#rock star fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aidaronan · 1 year

Text

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

#steddie #fanfic #mine #woodworker steve #rock star eddie #i meant for this to be a drabble but 😂

7K notes · View notes

total-dxmure · 2 months

Text

ೃ࿔ CHERRY FLAVORED →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: mega fan!ellie williams x rock star!reader

summary: your guitarist was carted off to rehab after just one month into your recent tour. fuck. there’s only one thing you can do, and that’s hire a replacement. your band thinks it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone that is on the same level of talent as your “beloved” guitarist. you don’t have high hopes that anyone can nail the songs quite like he did either, if you’re being brutally honest. enter ellie- she’s a mega fan. the girl knows every lyric and note like the back of her hand. . . and everything about you, which isn’t creepy at all. her apparent obsession with you is something that you and your tour manager can overlook if it means carrying on with the rest of the tour. forced proximity with a stalker-level fan . . . what’s the worst thing that could happen?

warnings: smut in next chapter, talk of substance abuse, the reader is a tease and a bit of a bitch but it’s hot i promise, ellie is obsessed with reader to an unhealthy degree.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

It was the kind of love that tortured poets mused over. Ribs straining against a heavy heart.

Ellie had deluded herself, as any love drunk person does, that she wouldn’t dissolve into a puddle on the floor if she were to meet you. She could keep her cool- downplay the crushing significance you held in her life. Your voice was constantly ringing in her ears. She could see your face in perfect clarity any time she closed her eyes. Pictures like snapshots played out behind her eyelids, and yet you always felt a million miles away for her. You were a perfect performer, situated on your sky-high pedestal, always out of her puny reach.

Because Ellie, as much as she despised this fact and dreamed of greatness, was a nobody. She grew up in a tiny town of no noteworthiness, her adolescent years spent dreaming about the planets and playing guitar with Joel. By all accounts Ellie was normal, while you were certainly not. Still, she liked to tell herself that she’d somehow manage to make herself worthy of your affections if she were ever to be blessed with them.

Finding herself in a situation like this seemed like an impossibility. She was partially convinced that she was daydreaming, having concocted some elaborate fantasy just to feed the insatiable ache. She was starved for you with no way to feed herself.

All it had taken was a single audition tape. One. Single. Tape. Ellie was staring, wide eyed, at Gene fuckin’ Murray.

The blood rushed from her head, hands breaking out instantaneously into a clammy sweat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function at the realization that she was staring at one of the people that she had worshiped for years. Gene’s talent had been praised by the likes of Lars Ulrich and Danny Carey. He wasn’t popular just for his looks but for his undeniable talent.

And he was staring straight at Ellie, arms crossed over his toned chest as he waited expectantly. She felt like an idiot. Should she be playing? If so, what did they want her to play? Surely one of their songs. She’d glossed past the fact that she was a megafan, instead making it sound like she was just looking for a successful band to join. She was talented. No, Ellie was really talented.

She wasn’t just a technical player, but excelled at making her own rules. She enjoyed the creative freedom that playing the guitar granted, and felt as though the world needed more Jimi’s and Van Halen’s. Ellie excelled at thinking outside of the box.

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her.

So she took a deep breath and tried to steady her heart, once again stepping up to the mic. If there was one thing that all of your bandmates had in common, it was the attitude. She’d watched hundreds of interviews, had studied all of their movements and mannerisms. . .she understood you down to a science.

“So do you want me to play or what?” Ellie spoke into the mic, gripping the neck of the guitar in the hopes that it might act as an anchor. She was scared that she might float away.

The manager’s eyebrows twitched at her sudden change in attitude but he didn’t say anything, merely turned to look at Gene. For a second everyone just stared at her, like a bug under a microscope. After what felt like five minutes but was really just five seconds, Gene broke out into a grin, motioning to her with a flick of his wrist. He wasn’t confident in her, Ellie could tell.

She had a sweet face, she knew that. Big green eyes and freckles- she was unsuspecting. People were usually shocked to find out that she had wrestled competitively in high school and had no problem putting a man three times her size on his ass. People expected very little from her, and perhaps that was part of Ellie’s real charm.

“What song?” She was staring at Gene now, gripping her guitar pick between two sweat-slick fingers.

“What ‘bout ‘Sometime Soon’? Know that one?” His tone was teasing. Condescending.

The song was fast paced. It was supposed to be played loud and hard- one of your angrier songs. Ellie knew that you had been the one to write this one, meaning it was one of her favorites. The notes weren’t beginner friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hard for her.

It was more style, less technical ability- which meant that Ellie would have no problem making this song her bitch.

It was obvious that Gene was the one meant to judge her. The manager was just that- a manager. They needed an actual musician to listen in. So she took a deep breath and readied herself. . .

and then the sound of your singing voice blasted into the booth. Drums, bass- she was meant to play with you.

She almost missed her que, eyes widening in nervousness. She thought that she’d be playing all by her lonesome. She thought wrong it would seem. They’d started her off right in the middle of the song. Probably to throw her off. She jumped in, fingers sliding along the frets to shape out the correct notes. She tucked her guitar pick against the palm of her hand with her thumb, using the pads of her fingers to tap the strings. Faster. Faster. Faster. She didn’t look up from her guitar to look at the men’s reactions to her playing. Instead she just pretended she was standing in the living room of her apartment, hellbent on getting another noise complaint from the bitchy nextdoor neighbor.

Her calloused fingers pinched the strings, satisfied with the way the guitar whined over the speakers. The guitar solo in this song was meant to be impressive- and it was, she had to give it to Leon. A lot of it was just bullshitting though. He’d admitted that he came up with the solo in the actual sound booth off of the top of his head while they were recording the song.

The man was a god. He deserved “guitarist of the year” two years in a row. Ellie had the Los Angeles native beat though. Where he had grown up in the constant presence of “the greats”, Ellie had grown up in a constant state of boredom. She’d been playing the guitar since she was fourteen. Every day she’d sit down for hours and practice until her fingers bled. . . literally. She had thousands of hours on Leon, and she knew that with certainty.

Ellie moved the guitar up and down gently with her fret hand, prolonging the last note so that it cried the way she wanted it to. The muscles in her arms were sore from how hard she had been tensing during the song. She’d been a lot more mechanical about it than she was used to, but she had something to prove.

After a second she looked up from her guitar to gauge everyone’s reactions. The manager had dropped his cold and indifferent demeanor, instead flashing her a small smile. It bolstered her, gave her the strength to turn and look at Gene.

He still had his arms crossed over his chest, and for a second Ellie was sure that he would tell her that she sucked. She widened her stance, shuffling her feet so that she was in a more defensive position. His heated gaze made her feel as though she needed to protect herself from whatever mental anguish he was about to put her through.

“I thought she was kick ass,” Gene finally spoke up, giving Ellie a small thumbs up. Her face lit up into a wide smile before she could school her reaction into one of indifference. “What do you think? You’re the one that calls all the shots.” He spoke behind him, looking down at someone that had been hidden on the couch all along.

Ellie squinted her eyes, taking a step closer to the glass to see if there was another businessman she’d somehow overlooked.

She saw your hair before she saw anything else. It was freshly dyed, different than the last she’d seen you in all of the recent tabloid photos. You were clad in leather- pants so tight that they looked like a second skin. Your top was just as restrictive, breasts spilling out from the top, midriff revealed to show off the small silver piercing you had decorating your belly button.

You were Hecate in the flesh- dark, sinister, mysterious and capable of anything. Ellie didn’t think that it would be possible, but you were even prettier in person. The sight of you sent a shock through her system, and for a second she felt her knees quiver, as if she could no longer hold up the weight of her own body. Her insides turned to mush; white, hot mush.

The Stendhal syndrome: Ellie had been brought to the very precipice of existence by sight alone. She was so overcome by your mere existence that she felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. Body trembling, eyes locked on to your face and nothing else- it felt like she might faint. She remembered reading about the syndrome once before in an art history class she took in college.

“Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty. . . I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations.”

The urge to flee was just as great as the urge to get her hands on you was. She was thankful for the wide stance she was currently in, because if her legs had been any closer together then she was positive she would have lost her balance and fallen over.

You were right there in front of her. You’d been right in front of her the entire time, she’d just been so focused on Gene that she hadn’t even seen you in her panic. She stumbled forward, her sneakered foot catching the jack for the amp. She slapped her hands over her ears as a blood curdling screech began blaring over the speakers.

Ellie could have died. In fact. . . she just might. She dropped her guitar roughly on the ground as she raced over towards the amp, fingers shaking as she turned the knob to the volume.

The booth, once again, was silent. Silent enough to hear a pin drop. Slowly she turned, grimacing when she noticed the looks on everyone’s faces. She’d embarrassed herself and ruined her chance. Even worse was the fact that she’d humiliated herself in front of you.

She had somehow deluded herself into believing that the two of you were soulmates over the years. She’d compared your birth charts, life numbers- had taken multiple celebrity compatibility tests. All signs pointed to a resounding yes. The two of you were star crossed lovers, cursed to never know one another. She had told herself that if she were ever to bump into you in person that she’d be able to keep her cool. Ellie was certain that she could pretend that she didn’t know who you are- could downplay the significance that you held

Her ignorance was laughable. She’d been so overcome by your mere presence that she’d stumbled on air while standing completely still. You were standing up straight now, and even from her spot behind the thick glass she could tell how much taller you were than her. You had to be wearing heels or platforms, because according to Google you were-

“You know how many auditions we’ve listened to today?” You had grappled the mic from the tech and were now hunched over his soundboard, the lights from all of the buttons and knobs casting strange, beautiful shadows over your face. Your eyeliner was dark and smoked out around your eyes, and in that moment Ellie wondered if you were an angel or a demon. “Twelve. Twelve fuckin’ people have walked into that booth today. Every single one of them has been absolute shit. So bad, in fact, that I’ve wanted to blow my fuckin’ brains out in this buildings tiny, piss-stained bathroom.”

Ellie blanched, lips losing their pink color as the blood drained from her face. She was about to pass out. Her vision was already starting to tunnel. She grabbed onto one of the microphone stands to hold herself up, trying to keep her expression hard and unreadable. People often told her that she had “dead eyes”, and she could only pray that her face wasn’t giving her crushing grief away. It felt like someone had just died; like she had just died. Actually, she would have rather you just go ahead and stab her then tell her she sucked. You were her idol, her dream girl, her everything.

And you were telling her that you’d rather blow your fucking brains out then listen to her play. How was she supposed to recover from this? She’d heard the saying “don’t meet your heroes” a thousand times, but this? She’d rather you just be a bitch to her. Actually, Ellie would probably like that. This was the worst thing she could have ever heard. Her nose twitched as tears began pooling in her eyes. She blinked a few times, praying that you couldn’t tell in the nearly pitch black room you were standing in.

“But this?” You turned towards your manager and pointed passionately at Ellie. “This is music.”

Breath left her lungs in a loud, audible whooshing sound, like a balloon deflating. Her shoulders relaxed, the hand that was white knuckling the mic stand falling limp at her side. No, you didn’t hate her. You liked her.

You liked her.

Everyone had their vices. Leon’s had, apparently, been copious amounts of prescription drugs- often consumed simultaneously. You were used to getting what you wanted. You drank whenever you wanted to, fucked just about anyone that peaked your interest and got away with your usual rotten antics and bitchy behavior. You lived the lifestyle that you’d always dreamt of, even when you were a little kid.

You enjoyed putting on shows. You were flamboyant, loud, and weren’t afraid of expressing yourself. Teachers often described you as a “free thinker” back in your elementary school days. You dressed yourself for school each morning, each outfit louder and more daring than the next. You were an artist, and like most artists you had some inner demons that you fought against. You still fought tooth and nail, even to this day.

Finally though, after what felt like a thousand years of waiting and biding your time, you had the life you had always yearned for.

You sold out arenas, appeared on the front page of just about every magazine imaginable, and had celebrities clamoring over themselves to be your “best friend” of the week. Things were good.

But also a bit empty.

The friends that you’d made in your youth only used your name for bragging rights. Your parents had stopped showing up to concerts years ago, instead choosing to listen about your successes through their shitty television shows. Life felt a bit hollow.

Exciting. . . just different than you had always been used to.

“Come play with us.” One of the women whined from her spot on your plush hotel mattress. The bombshell blonde was already stripped down to her underwear, her eyes glazed over from whatever overpriced alcohol she’d already taken from the suite's bar, at your expense no doubt.

Your manager was used to the up-charges on the company card. He would probably be relieved in the morning when he found out that you didn’t break anything. There was still time for that, of course. It was only one in the morning, which meant you had nine more hours to get fucked up and wreck the cushy room.

“I’m not feeling up to it right now.” You said simply, already disinterested in the two women you had invited to bed with you tonight. You were holding a beer bottle loosely between two of your fingers, swishing the remainder of the room temperature alcohol absentmindedly.

You weren’t much of an “observer” when it came to sex, more of a very active participant. Still, all you could do was sit back in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, muscles tense after a long show. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d invited the women back to the hotel. They were both attractive and had come onto you at the same time. It was obvious what they had been insinuating, and who were you to deny two beautiful women? The first thing that had popped into your head being “a threesome might make me happy”.

Except now you were bored out of your skull and would much rather be sleeping right now than watch two ditzy girls clumsily fondle each other’s fake breasts.

“Please? I want you to fuck me so bad-” There was a knock at the door, causing both girls to go silent for a second.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaustion threatening to swallow you up whole. If it was your manager here to yell at you for “accidentally” breaking an amp at tonight's show you were going to scream. It was too late for that bullshit. Still, you saw this excuse as a blessing.

“Hear that, ladies? Looks like we’ve gotta pack it up. Thanks for showing me a good time.” You stood up from the seat with a small groan, placing your beer bottle onto the counter clumsily. The glass clattered, almost spilling all over the shag carpet.

The two girls groaned, obviously frustrated that they hadn’t successfully gotten you into bed with them. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you lately. If this had happened a few months ago then. . . well, you would have fucked them- no questions asked. Were you maturing out of your “wild and crazy” phase? No, you didn’t think so.

You bent down, scooping up a discarded bra so that you could toss it onto the bed. Fabric rustled behind you as they began to quickly sort themselves out, hoping to beat you to the door.

“Who is it?” You called out in a sing-song voice, deciding that if your manager was already angry enough to show up in front of your door at one in the morning then you might as well have a little fun with it.

There was no reply on the other side of the door, causing you to scoff. He was giving you the silent treatment. You reached out for the door handle, only to have your shirt yanked on by one of the women. You could hear the seams ripping against the weight of her, her eyes wide with desperation.

“Please let me show you a good time. I promise I’m good- I swear.” There was a fear of rejection there, you could tell.

You felt a bit guilty and were quick to lean in to press a kiss on her cheek. “Baby, you’re gorgeous. I’m sure you would have been wonderful- but I’m tired. That’s all, okay? It’s nothing personal.”

And with that you opened the door. The air from the hallway was brisk, causing goosebumps to instantly break out on your bare arms and legs. You were expecting the balding, bespectacled Barry to be standing on the other side of the door, all in a huff about “expenses” and “damages to the venue”. Blah, blah, blah.

Instead it was Ellie. A very broken looking Ellie.

The girls were quick to straighten out their outfits, their attention now turned towards the guitarist. Groupies like this didn’t care who they slept with, just so long as they were getting it in with someone that was in the band.

“You’re Emma. . . right? The new guitarist? You were so great tonight. I mean- Leon was always a bit of a poser anyway. You’re killing it.” One of the girls started, moving to stand next to you in the doorway.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt angry. Genuinely angry. Were you jealous of Ellie? No, because you were sure they would still rather fuck you than her. You’d been their first choice, afterall. Maybe you felt the need to shelter Ellie a bit? Yeah, that had to be it. She was still learning the ropes, and the last thing she needed was to be sexually harassed in a hotel hallway.

“. . . -lie” She was mumbling under her breath, eyes locked on the expensive carpet beneath her ratty old sneakers.

She had changed out of her stage clothes and put on jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair looked wet too, meaning she’d already taken a shower. She smelled earthy- Alpine, even.

You leaned against the frame, slamming your hand against the doorway to box the two women in, hoping to keep them away from the newbie. They flinched but both seemingly weren’t off put in their newfound pursuit.

“You’re the most talented guitarist I’ve ever seen live. I mean. . . your solos were incredible.” You hadn’t managed to successfully remember the girl’s names. Just that they were friends with two guys that had worked security for the venue tonight. People often took advantage of connections like that in order to get close to you and your bandmates. It usually worked too. Tonight was different though. Tonight you had a real stick up your ass.

Ashley? Amber? Sophie? God, you were bad with names.

“. . . -is Ellie.” Your guitarist mumbled again, slowly moving back down the hall in the direction of her suite.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion over her attitude, and you were quick to stumble out of your room and down the hall after her.

“Wait! Emma, can we get an autograph!” One of the half naked girls called after the two of you, trying desperately to shrug on her shirt to follow after.

Ellie turned then, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. You’d. . . You’d never seen her like that before.

“My name is fucking Ellie! Who is Emma? Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” She dug her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, trying desperately to find her keycard.

The girls gasped at her outburst, jostled by the look of pure evil on her face. Even you were taken aback, not used to this kind of attitude from her. Still, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know why she was acting like this.

Ellie was what some would call a “mega fan”, though that would be putting it lightly. The word “stalker” would be more appropriate. Your manager knew that before he even messaged her for an audition. He’d checked all of her social media sites and scrubbed the internet for anything he could find on her. One thing was made very clear:

Ellie was obsessed with you.

For whatever reason she seemed to be keeping it a secret from Gene and Chris. All she fessed up to them was that she enjoyed your music, which was why she’d auditioned in the first place. She’d conveniently left out the dedicated fan blogs and the status of her cult-like following.

You didn’t mind it. Sure, it was a bit creepy. . . but she was talented and you liked her. She could hold her own against Gene and Chris’ constant asshole behavior, and had been receptive to Barry trying to teach her the ropes of the business. It was obvious that she wanted this, even if her motives weren’t exactly purely for the music. You’d let her be as close to you as she wanted if it meant that she’d continue playing the way that she does. The crowd had loved her, and it was only her second show with the band.

She was a bit shy, but that would pass eventually. You remember your early debut days vividly. You’d been just like her, maybe even a little worse.

“Hey, stop for a second.” You reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her from fleeing after her outburst. She turned to glare at you, but her eyes softened as she took in your features.

You could feel her arm trembling in your grasp, so you gently let go. No matter how many times you touched her or spent time with her, she still seemed to get overly nervous in your presence. It was endearing.

“Aren’t you a bit busy? Don’t let me ruin your fun-” She was being sarcastic.

“I was done with them by the time you knocked on the door. They aren’t exactly my type. I’m not sure why I even invited them back in the first place.” If you had to guess, you’d probably done it out of habit. You were used to inviting people back to your room or tour bus.

Ellie didn’t seem pleased by your answer. If anything it seemed to upset her even more. She bristled, reaching back into her pocket for her keycard. What did she want to hear? That you hadn’t touched them? You groaned, wiping an exhausted hand down your face.

The elevator dinged behind you, meaning the girls had finally taken the hint and were leaving with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Are you jealous or something?” You asked once the elevator doors were closed. The last thing you needed were the girls trying to sell information to some shitty gossip magazine.

She froze, eyes going wide and lips going pale. It was almost like she didn’t think that you knew all about her dirty little secret. A part of you wanted to tease her. Really make her squirm.

“Why would I be jealous? Those girls weren’t exactly my type either.” She was good at playing things off. Ellie was a good liar.

But you were good at sniffing out the bullshit. It was one of your many talents.

“Not of me,” You leaned against the wall next to her door, watching with curious eyes as she began fumbling in her pockets for her key. “Of them. Do you wish I had taken you back to my room or something?” You cooed flirtatiously, flashing her one of your most sinister smiles.

She coughed, turning around so that she could hide her face from you. This nearly had you groaning out loud in disappointment. Was she blushing? Do her freckles look even brighter when her skin gets all pink and hot?

Nah, it was dangerous to think like this. Band members were always off limits. It was a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed was another Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham situation on your hands. Your PR team wouldn’t be able to recover. They’d just barely gotten over the “Leon” incident by the skin of their teeth.

Your old band member having to be tackled by three cops in a hotel lobby was horrible. It made you look sloppy. And sleeping with the brand new edition to the band was definitely sloppy.

“You’re acting crazy.” Ellie told you, shoving the keycard into the lock so that she could clammer into her room.

Pushing the boundaries was sort of your thing. You enjoyed being bad, fuck the consequences. Right about now you wanted to kiss Ellie. What would her reaction be? Was she a good kisser? You wanted to know. No- you needed to know.

“You’re right. I’m talking nonsense, don’t listen to me,” You called after her into the room. “Sweet dreams.”

And with that you sauntered back to your own room, practically purring in delight over the fact that it had been that easy to get to Ellie like that. You loved pushing the boundaries. . . and now you had a new toy to play with.

✦ message me about being put on the taglist!

@viswifetotallyreal @lillysbigwilly @overtrred28 @corpsebridenightamare @jokerpokimoon @macaroni676 @eveshyper @lil-elliesgf @fuckingstarellie @gold-dustwomxn @madislayyy @moonbluz @vianna99 @sawaagyapong @mrsromanoff @glory-grl @sadeyedsugar @inf3ct3dd @teatimedisaster @laucalo @ellieswilliamsgf @machetegirl109 @moonchild184 @onlinelesbo @lasting-lover @luvrrcharr @koremis @elsmissingfingers @whoreshores @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @circe-is-struggling @cqrrnts @elliewilliamsmiller0 @harrysslutsstuff @shewantstoknow @laundrybag29 @darkerstarsstuff @elliesdesperatewife @rulerzreachf4n44 @eviestevie-14 @deliriousrn @diddiqueen @bready101 @felsweb @jaeminpookie @elliesswearjar @2012wannabe @abbysbae @boobabietch @amorqts

902 notes · View notes

xoxoladyaz · 11 months

Text

It Hits Different This Time

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

“Steve.”

He hears Robin knocking on the door, her knuckles tapping firmly against the wood.

“STEVE.”

He’s lying on the bed in Robin’s guest bedroom, limbs starfished across the plush gray comforter, staring at the ceiling fan. Taylor Swift is singing to him, blasting from the Alexa speaker next to him.

Oh my, love is a lie, shit my friends say to get me by

“Alexa, volume up.”

“Steve – STEVE!”

It hits different, it hits different this time

“Alexa, off,” Robin says as she marches into the room. Taylor’s voice cuts off almost immediately and Steve huffs, frustrated.

“Steve, as much as I love listening to your ‘Sad Taylor Swift’ playlist, you need to eat something. Go for a walk. Take a shower.”

“I’d rather not.”

Sighing, Robin kicks his left leg until he’s made enough room for her to collapse down beside him and gaze up at the spinning fan.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

They lay in silence.

“It’s just – our three-year anniversary, Robin.”

“I know.”

“He didn’t even text me.”

“I know.”

“And the supermodels at the club! And the tweets!”

“I know, Steve.”

There’s moisture pricking at the inside of his eyes now. “I just – it’s dumb, okay? I thought we could make this work. But I guess I’m not as important to him as he is to me.”

“Dingus,” Robin chides, and he turns his face away so she can’t see that he’s actually crying now. (She still probably knows that he is; Robin always knows. He just doesn’t want anyone to see.) “Okay, is Eddie Munson a huge idiot? Yes, and he has been for as long as we’ve known him. Is he kind of an asshole now that he’s famous? Yes. Do I think this is the end? Not necessarily.”

Steve snorts. “It’s been four days, Robin. Nothing for four days. I think it’s already ended.”

Robin cuddles up to his side so now they’re legitimately snuggling together. “Look, all I’m saying is he’s going to be back in the state in a few days and I think you owe it yourself to at least have a conversation with him. Either you two decide to work things out and start communicating better or you decide that he’s not pulling his weight to make his relationship work and you get closure. Either way, I think you need to talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Steve sniffles. “You’re probably right.”

“Steven, I’m always right.”

“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about the Pixar question you fumbled on trivia night?”

“Dingus, I swear to god if you don’t let it go - ”

/////

Eddie’s groggy and nauseous and fuck the sun is too bright. He pulls at the window-shades as he stumbles into their kitchen, dropping his Louis Vuitton bag on the floor. The fact that he’s managing to walk while coming down from a five day bender that he barely fucking remembers is kind of a miracle.

“Steve! Stevie, baby, I’m home!”

Silence.

What day is it today, Saturday? He’s probably at the farmer’s market with Robin. Eddie’s a few days early anyways, wanted it to be a surprise. And honestly, it’s probably a good thing Steve’s not home, Eddie needs to keep sobering up.

He pulls a fresh bottle of water out of the fridge and collapses onto the restored dining-room chairs they bought a few months ago. He tips it back and drinks it down greedily, swallowing the cool water down his aching throat. “Oh, that’s good,” he moans to himself, dropping the now empty bottle onto the dining room table.

The empty bottle that clangs against something. Squinting, Eddie opens his eyes and looks down.

There’s a small box sitting at his spot, a card laying haphazardly onto the side. It looks like someone opened it and scribbled all over what they originally wrote.

Eddie frowns and grabs for the card. It’s Steve’s writing. Whatever he’s crossed out is unreadable. Instead, all there is is the following:

I would say Happy Anniversary, but judging by the fact that (1) you didn’t return my call or even text me back and (2) the paps caught you at the club with the guys and a bunch of supermodels instead, I’m going to assume that you’re not interested in celebrating it anymore.

Eddie feels his stomach sink so fast that he’s going to lose all the water he just drank.

Look, Eds, I am so proud of you for making your dream come true. I would never ask you to give that up or sacrifice your music for me. But I’m tired of feeling alone in this relationship. Of feeling like you don’t love me as much as I love you. Because I would do anything for you, but I think this all proves that you wouldn’t do the same for me.

Anyways, I still want you to have your gift. It wouldn’t make sense to give it to anyone else.

Your biggest fan, Steve

He can’t see straight and it’s not because of the drugs. He can’t breathe and it’s not because of his asthma or his wicked smoking habit.

He grabs the small box, flips it open, and chokes back a sob.

It’s a perfect replica of Aragorn’s ring, the ring he’s given that proves he is Isilduir’s heir. He’s wanted it foryears, but it was never something that he thought he could buy for himself. Sure, he could buy whatever random luxury shit without a sweat, but something so meaningful to him? Because reading The Lord of the Rings saved his fucking life in high school? His brain couldn’t deal with him buying it for himself. His therapist says it’s one of his many hang-ups regarding money and fame and his self-esteem issues, but that’s not what matters right now.

What matters is that Steve gave this to him, loved him enough to have it made for him.

And now Steve is gone.

Eddie grabs for his phone with shaking hands and checks the date.

“Fuck.”

Five days.

He’s five days too fucking late.

He’s dialing Jeff before he can even realize he’s doing it.

“Dude, I really don’t want to be talking to you right now.”

“Jeff,” Eddie barely gets out, his voice choking on a sob. “Steve is gone.”

Jeff’s silent for a moment.

“I’m on my way.”

#steddie #steddie week #steddie angst #steddie fanfic #rock star eddie munson #angst #stranger things #hurt/comfort #Steve x Eddie #lmk if you'd like a follow-up to this or not #hits different Taylor swift #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #stobin #stobin friendship #rock star au #fame au #corroded coffin

1K notes · View notes

amaliazeichnerin · 5 months

Text

fanart by @gahellhimself-blog, with kind permission

December 16,2023 As "Good Omens" has been renewed for a third and final season - and is trending on Tumblr right now, how about a wholesome alternative universe fanfiction, without explicit sex scenes, with ace-spec and nonbinary representation? This is what it is about:

Link to the fanfiction on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49784236 If you like it, feel free to leave a comment or kudos. Thanks and enjoy your weekend.😊

#visit our fundraising concert with crowley and the demons #Good Omens #Good Omens wholesome fanfiction #Good Omens fanfiction #Good Omens fanfic #good omens fanart #Crowley as a retired punk rock star #ace spec #nonbinary #ace spec characters #nonbinary character #agender character

593 notes · View notes

starazorr · 2 months

Text

♡ Punk Valentines

🗓️ 10/03/2024 | Blog

— 💬 Se inspirou? Me credite!

99 notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 2 years

Note

Oooh I’ve had an idea !!! Fuckboy!Rockstar!Bucky rough fucking a groupie !! She’s high out of her mind and he’s fucking her senseless . Frantic , fast , sloppy . She’s too eager , giving him the sloppiest blowjob and screaming like a woman possessed. Both covered in sweat . Slapping , name calling , hair pulling , fingers in her mouth . Just altogether rough … (if that’s not something you’re into feel free to skip this)

Rockstar Bucky

18+ minors dni

Fuckboy Rockstar Bucky x f groupie reader

Warnings: Bucky is a warning, SMUT (name calling, spanking, breeding kink)

Word count:

This. Is. So. Hot. I am into this, I am so so into this.

The night starts off with you both just smoking some weed in his hotel room after his show; the both of you sharing a joint while laying down. It doesn’t take long for him to have his hands up your skirt, his fingers shoved deep in you while you’re spread out on his lap. He has the joint in one hand, the other in your panties, smirking while you moan and pant, begging for him to keep going.

He lets you take another hit, loving the way your eyes glaze over, your moans growing louder the higher you get, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You can feel his cock hard under you pressing against your ass and there's nothing more you want than to have it fill all your holes.

*****

“Fuck, that’s it baby, get my cock nice and wet, fuck you’re such a little slut” his thighs were spread apart on the bed of the hotel room, clothes thrown haphazardly around the room. You moaned around his cock, your eyes rolling back as you took him down your throat. Your face was a mess; tears streaming down your cheeks from letting his cock stretch your throat, his precum and your spit dribbling down your chin.

“So fucking slutty, always knew you were a cockhungry whore” He smirks, biting his lip watching you stroke the part of his cock you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Not good enough. “C’mon baby, take it all, open up sugar”

He doesn’t take your whining as a protest, he knows you love it. He cups your face, squeezing your cheeks to force your mouth open more, his other hand guiding the back of your head to shove his cock down your mouth.

You groan, your nose flush against his trimmed hair, his balls nearly slapping your chin, he’s a menace and you love it. He fucks your face until he can feel his cock throb, hes so close to cumming but he doesn’t want to let go yet, not when he has other plans for you tonight.

“Baby, I’d love to fill your mouth up but it’ll have to wait until next time” He pulls you off his cock, tossing you onto the bed. You barely have time to process anything when he yanks you by the ankles and grabs you hips up.

“Ass up baby” Your face is pushed into the mattress, squealing when he slaps your ass, groaning watching the soft flesh jiggle. “You gonna let me taste this pretty pussy?” He spreads your legs apart, putting you on full display for him.

“Mhm, please Buckyy” you whine out while he teases you with his tongue, sucking and licking the slick that’s already coating your thighs. He doesn’t need to be told twice, licking a long thick stripe from your clit all the way up to your tight ring of muscle, your pussy clenching when he dips back down to fuck you with his tongue.

You can barely get words out, his bruising grip on your thighs keeping them apart grow tighter the wetter you get. He doesn’t want to waste a drop, drinking every bit you spill out. His tongue is buried deep in you but you need more, your clit throbbing and aching. You push your ass back, making him groan, his hand going down to his cock to stroke himself.

“You’re so fucking messy princess, look at the mess your making” The lower half of his face is covered in your arousal, glistening in the light of the hotel room lamp. You can see his hand moving up and down, the tip of his cock leaking with precum when he strokes himself faster.

“Bucky, need more, please”

He smirks because he knows exactly what you need, he’s been avoiding it on purpose just to build your frustration more. He keeps teasing you till your whining and whimpering, trying to push your hips onto his face more.

“I know sugar, I know, you just need some attention here huh” He flicks your clit with his tongue, grinning when you moan. “So desperate, could play with this little bud all night”

His lips seal around your sensitive clit, suckling and moaning when you cry out, your hands gripping onto the sheets. He flicks and swirls around your tongue until your nearly sobbing, pulling away just before you cum.

“Noo, Bucky, fuck-AH” He slaps your ass, his hand rubbing the sting away after, shaking his head.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, I’ll fill you up princess, don’t worry” He’s on his knees behind you, his cock is nudging your entrance. He already knows you’re going to squeeze his cock in that tight little pussy, he hopes to hell his pull out game is strong tonight. If it isn’t oh well. He starts to push the tip in, the both of you moaning when his thick cock starts to stretch you.

“Come on baby, open up for me” He hisses, your walls clenching and stretching to accommodate his girth “So fuckin’ tight, would’ve thought you’re a virgin if I hadn’t been balls deep in you before”

“OH fuuuccckkk yes YES” You groan out as he sheathes himself inside, giving you no chance to adjust, his hips snapping against yours in an instant. “FUCKK” His heavy balls are smacking against your clit, his cock kissing your cervix each time he thrusts into you. He loves the way your ass bounces, but he wants more. He wants to see your eyes roll back, he wants to see how fucked out your face gets for him.

He pulls his cock out, flipping you onto your back before shoving his cock in again with one stroke. He’s slamming into you again, pounding you into the mattress, his face inches away from yours,

“JAMES PLEASE” Your clawing at his back, you don’t know what sensation to focus on, his cock, his hands gripping onto your waist, his lips brushing against your skin. “M’gonna cum, fuckfuckfuck” Your head lulls to the side but he doesn’t want that, he needs to see you.

“Lemme see that pretty face sugar” His hands grip your cheeks making your lips pout, forcing you to look at him. “Look at those pretty eyes baby, you’re high as fuck” His eyes are just as hazy as yours, the both of you climbing higher and higher towards your orgasm.

He loves the way you sound like a porn star; all those moans and screams are just for him. The best part about your screams is how you sound with his fingers shoved in your mouth. You gasp when he stuffs three fingers into your mouth, muffling your moans, drool coating your lips.

“Keep it down you little slut, unless you want half the floor to hear how good you’re getting it”

You clench at his words which only stoke his ego more, he loves how dirty you are just for him. For the rest of the world, you’re this sweet little groupie but for him? His personal little fuck toy. He starts to fuck you faster, the headboard rattling against the wall.

“Let you princess, know you wanna cum, let go baby, cum” Your moans and high pitched whines grow louder, your back arching, warmth and pleasure spreading through your body as your orgasm nearly tips you off the edge. His hands snakes' down to toy with your clit, throwing you head first into your climax, your walls fluttering and clenching around his length.

He licks the tears spilling down your cheeks, fucking you harder because he can’t hold back anymore. You’re moaning and crying around his cock, your nails leaving angry lines down his back. Your ankles are digging into his ass to feel him even deeper.

“Princess...”

He knows he has to pull out, and if he wants to he could. Right now. But fuck, your clenching tight walls are so fucking warm and wet. Fuck, imagine his cute little groupie whos supposed to be all innocent walking around with a swollen belly, full of his baby, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-

“OH FUCCKKK I’m cumming, shit-baby, fuck you feel so good”

He keeps fucking in to you, his pace sloppy, your mixed arousal squelching and dripping out of you. He hisses as he pulls out, panting beside you, pleased at how utterly wrecked you looked. Perfect. You’re already half asleep, the combination of the weed and Bucky’s cock have you floating on a cloud. You slur in your sleep, snuggling into the sheets. Bucky smirks, throwing his clothes on, giving your ass a soft spank before leaving.

“Until next time, princess”

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @peaches1958 @kingfleury @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @samfreakingwinchester @xnorthstar3x

913 notes · View notes

pxrxcxa · 1 year

Note

Could I request rockstar Eddie x female reader having reunion sex after Eddie gets home from tour?

Eyes for only you

Paring | Rockstar Eddie x fem reader

Summary | Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin takes off just after graduation, after being on tour for just a little while too long, your mind starts to wonder if all the stories of what groupies are like on the road are actually true, when Eddie returns, what should have been a happy reunion, takes a heated turn.

Warnings & expectations | Jealous reader, cocky Eddie, angry sex, Smut 18 + (minors I rebuke you), choking, p in v unnprotected, f & m oral, face fucking - let me know if I missed any.

Word count | 5.8 k

Authors Note | I unfortunately, have been upped on pain meds, so please forgive me for how long this took & if this isn’t up to my usual standard / or if there is mistakes. Major thankyou to @corrodedcorpsess for getting me through this one, & who I am sure will find all of my proof read mistakes (I am posting this now - naughty - because I’m about to fall back asleep) - yes I HC Dustin’s mom & uncle Wayne getting together in this cause I think it’s cute af, & the band names are historically correct cause I did research lmfao

Thanks for sending this in anon & being patient with me, this turned out quite long and took a different path than I intended, regardless I hope you like it! I just went with the flow 🖤

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

___________________________________

It was hard on days like this, to ignore the guilt of wishing Corroded Coffin had never been discovered and plummeted into the scrutinised world of music, laid bare for everyone’s prying eyes.

Especially with the scantily clad bodies of the groupies that swelled around you now, craning their necks over each other as they swung their glitter covered signs in the air.

Eddie would hate them. All the bright colours and curly writing. Although you couldn’t decide how he would react to what the words actually said, and how they described what the fawning groupies wanted to do to him. You swallowed the hard lump in your throat to banish the thought.

Someone’s sharp elbow nailed the side of your ribs. “Hey come on now, smile. You know he hates coming back here. He only does it for you.”

You scowled at a very grown up Dustin, especially since he was taller than you now, still seeing that hint of his baby face that you’d played DnD with throughout all of high school. Since you’d graduated, and of course Eddie and the others had taken off around the country on tour for the past eighteen months, the club was a complete set of new faces now, with a different dungeon master.

“Gee kid, thanks for making me feel better.” You rolled your eyes, staring at the dice set he rolled between his fingers, you’d never seen him without them since Eddie handed on the battton of responsibility.

“That’s not what I meant.” Dustin nodded at the pressed in bodies around you as they rushed to the hotel curb side, you clamped down on your ears as their head splitting shrieks erupted around you, cardboard crinkling in the air as they shook their signs at Eddie’s metal tour bus turning the corner.

“I know this stuff bothers you.” He conceded softly, his eyes prying your face for your reaction.

“I just can’t help but think about how much worse it is in bigger cities.” With hotter girls, you added on silently.

“Hey.” He snapped jokingly but still loud enough for you to turn your head to him, the driver of the bus hit the breaks a little too hard as the groupies rushed around the front of it dangerously, the buses breaks squealing as it came to a standstill. Dustin clicked his fingers to grab your attention back.

“I’m the one who had to sit through my entire freshman year listening to Eddie’s constant pining over you. Do you think she’s into DnD? Should I ask her? She was reading lord of the rings the other day, maybe I should make a reference?”

You smiled at Dustin impeccable impression of Eddie’s whiny voice. The gruff noises of security rushed forward as they formed a barrier around the door, shoving the intrusive hands back to create space. The ragged faces of security looked exactly how you felt.

“He’s only ever had eyes for you.” Dustin’s words were a little drowned out, but entirely right. Because as soon as the door creaked back with a puff of air, Eddie was at the lip of the steps, his favourite guitar strapped to his back as he swung his glare through the crowd, finding your welcoming eyes in an instant.

His face spilt into the eye crinkling grin that was plastered on posters across the county, causing your face to break into a defeated smile, it was like your body knew he was near and had fallen into that sleepy safe mode that only he could bring out in you, even with the alarming energy of the buzzing girls that suffocated the air around you.

You watched with a tight jaw as he raced through the makeshift walkway that security hurled him through, keeping a tight hold around his waist as he kept his eyes on you, ignoring the desperate claws that reached out to try and get a touch of the Eddie Munson

“Make way.” The two station guards that had kept you and Dustin away from the crowd, quickly unlocked the glass doors behind you as they ushered you inside.

You barely plastered a forced smile on your face and got brief a chance to take in Garreth’s and Jeff’s expression - they were straggling behind Eddie and didn’t seem to mind all the female attention - before Eddie’s wide chest smacked you in the face, his large hands digging into the backs of your thighs as he swung you up in the air and laced you around him.

You tugged his messy bun loose to let his curls flow around his shoulders, just they way you liked them as you let him devour you in a thousand kisses.

Your squeals of delight and his heavy grunts of sweet nothings in your ear demolished everything else in the small room that crowded almost instantly, you didn’t notice the deafening screams of fans turn almost silent as the doors locked with a click and dark curtains were drawn across them.

Someone annoyed cleared their throat as Eddie’s sweet lips finally encased yours, tasting like tobacco with just the slightest hint of whiskey.

You pulled back accusingly, glaring at him as you twisted the stray hairs at the back of his neck while the corners of his mouth turned up cheekily.

“Celebrating?” You scoffed teasingly as you licked the taste of him across your lips. Eddie’s arm tightened around your waist, holding you pressed against his core still in mid air as he tugged his guitar strap over his head.

“It helped pass the time, it’s a long drive from Florida, and I fucking missed you.” He grinned, burying his face against your neck as you laughed and slid from his grip, Eddie bent down to lower you softly to the floor as Dustin forced his way between you two.

“Missed you guys.” He grunted as they smacked each other on the backs in a violent-masculine- sort of way.

“You’ve grown Henderson.” Eddie whistled appreciatively, gripping his shoulder as he stepped back as if it get a better look at him.

“That’s what happens when you’re only supposed to be gone for a few weeks and turn up a year and a half later.” Eddie had the grace to look ashamed as he glanced sideways at you, not missing your fallen smile.

“Yeah I’m sorry I missed the wedding step-bro.” He grinned, knowing exactly how to taunt at Dustin to get a reaction.

“Step cousin-“ He screeched as you laughed, brushing away non-existent dust from Eddie’s shoulders, just for an excuse to hold him

“Did they like my gift?” He smiled at you, circling his arm around your waist to pull you in tight. You were glad he still felt the same, with his intoxicating scent that was singular to only him and wearing his thread bare leather jacket he’d had throughout all of school. No matter what happened on the road and no matter how famous he and the band grew, he was still your Eddie.

“They’ve just finished moving everything in. Mrs Munson is running around to cook you your favourites, Wayne’s there to keep her sane.” You smiled at the way Eddie’s eyes lighted up at the mention of his uncle, thinking back to his reaction when you’d told him over the phone that those two had finally succumbed to the inevitable chemistry. They’d grown close after each cup of tea that Wayne sought out after Eddie took off, from the way he’d closed his eyes when Dustin would come in rambling excitedly about his new campaign idea when he took over as Dungeon Master, it seemed like he was hearing Eddie’s words flow through him. As much as you denied it, you’d missed Eddie so much it physically hurt, and you’d hung onto Dustin as much as high school and your work schedule would allow to fill the void he’d left behind.

“Been taking care of all of the little sheepies? What are you gonna do when you graduate-“ Eddie smirked at Dustin, gesturing at his old dice set clamped between his prodigy’s fingers. You slipped out of his grip as their conversation turned towards old epic Hellfire nights.

“S’good to see you guys.” You murmured as you pulled your old DnD club members into a group hug, holding your breath as the stench of sweat and alcohol washed over you. They didn’t feel as familiar, and you pulled back with a questioning look as you searched their faces. You couldn’t pin point the slight change from where they’d turned from your nerdy friends into confident men, but it was there.

Your stomach curled as you pictured the reason why, your thoughts drifting to the masses of fan crazed girls with their bra’s hanging from their wrists, just outside those locked doors. Suddenly peering back over your shoulder at Eddie to see if he had the same distinguishable confidence.

You spied the rough jackets and frayed jeans of the unfamiliar men over Garreth’s mounds of fluffy hair, recognition curling in your stomach.

“You guys are The Rose right?” You smiled out of curtesy, not remembering Eddie telling you he was coming home with extra band mates but a memory of their faces on some of the posters he’d sent you, tugged at you.

“Actually, we go by Purgatory now.” The one closest to you on the end of the lounge grinned as he looked you up and down, slight recognition flaring in his own eyes.

“I’m kinda diggin Iced Earth.” The hairy man next to him grunted as he pulled a wrinkled pack of cigarettes from his pockets.

“These guys are the reason I’m home late honey.” Eddie joked as he moved beside you in silence, his long fingers dug into your hip bone as he pulled you into him protectively, something harsh simmering beneath his false smile as he glared at the group of men. He noticed your concerned look and tried to brush it off before anyone else realised.

“Since we’re in a cover band saturated market, Gavin suggested we start networking across the region and start booking shows for our bands as well as bringing acts from other cities. It took off really well and there were shows every other week.” You glanced at the important looking man clad in the tailored black suit, arguing madly with someone on the phone as he paced the hotel’s empty lobby.

“Right…” you drawled, wanting to be a supportive girlfriend but the way Eddie’s finger tips slipped beneath the band of your jeans, almost absentmindedly tracing your sensitive skin, had derailed your train of thought completely.

“Yeah we wanted to keep going, but Eddie insisted on going home first.” The angrier looking man in the group of strangers spoke up for the first time, picking his finger nail as he glanced at you accusingly.

“Insisted? He practically drove the goddamn bus here. I’m Gene by the way sweetheart, lead vocalist.” The puff of smoke blew towards your face as the hairy man lent forward to cup your hand in both of his, winking as he pulled back and shot Eddie a knowing smirk.

“Alright alright, enough.” Eddie sighed, swinging his hips back and forth as he subtly tugged you away.

“Here.” A handful of shiny black hotel keys were shoved under your nose as the band mates reached for their own, waving off the list of rules that their manger rattled off at top speed.

Eddie’s hands were definitely tugging you away with urgency now, slight panic flaring in his eyes.

“Well.” Gene grunted as he rose from the sofa seats, squishing his cigarette in the glass ashtray beside it as he squared his shoulders and faced you with a grin. “I’m gonna go see what beauties out there want the back stage experience.” His words confirmed your worst fears and made your stomach sink.

You weren’t an idiot, and you’d heard all the stories about what happened on ‘the road’ and that sometimes men thought with their dicks over their heads. But Eddie had promised, even if eighteen months was a long time and his phone calls had grown shorter.

“Those were the days, huh Eddie?” Eddie’s fingers flexed in your rigid hand as the skinny band mate who looked perpetually angry clapped Eddie on the shoulder, shooting him a nasty grin as he scowled down his nose at you, like you’d personally ruined his Christmas.

Eddie stiffened beside you as you turned into ice, practically hearing the clogs turning in your head as you tried to swallow the bile in your throat.

“Eddie remember, two days-“ Their manager reached out a pale hand to try and stop Eddie as he rushed towards the glass elevators, your movements were robotic as you let him pull you with him.

“Yeah yeah yeah I know.” He snapped over his shoulder, his thin patience withering as he smashed the button with his thumb.

“What about dinner? My mom-“ Dustin broke away from Garreth to catch Eddie’s elbow just as the elevator dinged.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive me. And I promise to visit them bright and early tomorrow, thanks for coming to see me kid.” Eddie’s tone was final as he shook him off, his palm burned into your lower back through your shirt as he guided you into the lift.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Eddie nodded towards the closing doors, sliding closer to you as a sarcastic “Yeah if you ever resurface” was muttered and met by bouts of laughter.

Eddie laced his rough fingers through yours instantly, crushing you to his chest as he pressed his face into your hair and shuddered.

“I missed your smell. You haven’t changed much. That’s good, you’re perfect.” He waited for you to laugh with him, and squeezed your shoulder to pull back when he was met with stony silence.

“You’re quiet.” He murmured, smoothing out the crease between your brows as he caught his tongue between his lips.

“Yeah.” You replied lamely, from this angle you could see how long his lashes were, and how his dark eyes still caught the glint of every light. You could feel his original guitar pic necklace hidden beneath his expensive shirt, under the heavy chains that adorned his soft neck.

Suddenly you wanted to cry. He was so beautiful it hurt, the sort of beauty you kept hidden away from the filthiness of the world.

And he’d been parading it around the country for almost two years.

“What’s wrong.” His voice was gentle now that that the two of you were alone, falling back into the familiarity of your innocent high school years.

When Corroded Coffin had really taken off just a few months after graduation, it hadn’t been so hard. Each tour was only a few weeks, and a few weeks wasn’t that big of a wait. You’d fuck him nine ways to Sunday as soon as he got home anyway, to make up for it.

But hearing the others he’s toured with speak so freely about it? Right in front of you no less in such causal remarks, and the way Eddie had tensed while he waited for your reaction.

The insecurities and horrid nightmares bubbled back to the surface in seconds, thoughts that you’d tried to squish had run rampant each day that brought you closer to Eddie’s return.

The dark hotel door room swung back with a groan as you strode straight through it, brushing by Eddie’s chest as he held it open for you questioningly. He let you stew silently as he wandered around flicking on lights in the overtly decorated suit, the evening sun glistened on the crowded sidewalk, still filled with screaming groupies. From this height but hidden by the one way tinted windows, you could see the line stretched around the whole block.

“This wasn’t exactly-“ Eddie shrugged out of his jacket as your anger finally reached a boiling point. Mixed with the guilt of ruining his home-coming because of your damn insecurities and suspicions, your tone was harsh and dripped with venom.

“Two years is a long time to wait.” You spat, rounding on him as he froze.

“…. I know, I am sorry but things just kept getting extended because they’re going so well-“ He held his hands up between you with a small smile, heading down the wrong path as to why you were upset and trying to diffuse your sudden anger.

Your heart ached, all that your sweet boy wanted to do was tell you about his dreams finally coming into fruition, and you couldn’t stop being a bitch because all you could imagine was his strong hands sliding over someone else’s skin.

“- For sex.” You cut him off, clenching your jaw as you tightened your arms across your chest, your frayed nerves taught enough to snap as you waited for the unbearable truth to explode between you.

Eddie laughed.

“You think that’s funny Munson?” You hissed, staring between his crinkled eyes as he doubled over.

“I think it’s funny that I’m right.” He let out a deep sigh as he straightened up and wiped the smirk off the corner of his mouth, licking his lips as his ran his eyes up and down your body.

“What?” You covered your chest spitefully, hiding your hardened nipples away from his eyes. He didn’t deserve them until he explained himself.

“That’s why I didn’t really want you near those guys. They’re pretty uhh… wild.” Eddie scratched the back of neck as he shrugged, taking a few steps towards you.

“You’re telling me you never gave some desperate groupie the ‘back stage experience’?” You thought back to the other band mates words, and how pointed and obvious they felt.

“No, they’re just jerks that are mad I wanted to come home to my beautiful girlfriend. What do I have to do to make you believe me?” Eddie crossed the last few feet to tear your arms away from your body, pinning them to your sides. You couldn’t help but feel your resistance slipping away from his warm touch, your anger dimming as he hovered over with a smirk, knowing he’d won you over.

“Two years on the road, with all these girls throwing themselves at you, and you, Gareth and Jeff never caved once?” You scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I didn’t.” He sucked in against his teeth as he lifted his head back, scrutinising the paneling in the ceiling with an innocent expression while you muddled over his words.

First of all, gross. You couldn’t and didn’t want to imagine your nerdy DnD friends and club members, being lady killers. But they didn’t have girlfriends to come home to so you couldn’t really judge, and a lot could change in two years. Although, apparently not the way Eddie felt about you.

You tried to bite back the smile as he pinned you against the glass window with his body, every contour of his was pressed flush against yours, and his hard boner was rubbing against your thigh painfully.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Eddie trapped your jaw between his skilled fingers, his skin smelling like smoke as he tilted your head to suckle at your exposed neck. Eddie’s mouth curved into a smirk as his teeth grazed your skin and you shuddered, grabbing onto his arm to keep you upright.

“I’m not jealous I’m pissed. Because now I’m the jerk for ruining this.” Shame washed over you, and your anger flipped around, facing in the other direction now that you realised how foolish you’d been. Eddie sighed your name against the soft dip between your neck and shoulder, like he could read your mind and wanted to rub it in.

“My hand and just the thought of you was a thousand times better than anything any of them could have given me.” His fist banged against the glass next to your head, biting at your ear. Your knees caved at the dirty thought of Eddie stroking his cock while he pumped away at the thought of you. How after so many years of being together, and leaving no sexual path undiscovered, did the mere touch of him still drive you crazy?

“You’re still mad.” He scoffed, moving his hand to your hip as he gripped them painfully, forcing you to gasp as he pinched your chin tighter.

“I’m trying not to be.” You spluttered, bitting down on your lip as he bent his face down to yours with a dangerous smile.

“I can help with that.”

Eddie’s hands fell to the zipper on your jeans as he tugged your core towards his, devouring your lips as he ripped them down your thighs in seconds.

“These are new.” Eddie dropped to his knees as your bare ass pressed up against cold glass.

“I brought them for you.” You gasped as your hands moved to tangle in his curly hair, pulling on them as his eyes traced over the lacy blue panties, leaving little to the imagination.

“For me?” He groaned disbelievingly, glancing up at you through his crossed brow.

“Now who’s the jealous one Eddie?” You laughed, shivering as you held onto the thin veil of resilience his tongue was about to fuck out of you.

“Shut up.” He grinned, pressing his nose against your cunt as he inhaled deeply and pressed his hands into your sides, pulling you further into his face.

“Eddie… no, this is supposed to be about you.” Your protest was weak to your own ears, as much as you loved to please him, you loved the feeling of his mouth on your clit a lot more. He grinned up at you as you grinded down onto his nose, calling you out on your lie.

“After two years, I’m not going to be able to last more than five seconds inside this pretty pussy.” With that, Eddie’s fingers pinched your skin as he pulled away the fabric from your drenched cunt, swirling his tongue around your hot clit as you shuddered and arched above him, using your grip in his hair to move his face against you.

Pain shot through your head as you slammed it back against the glass but you didn’t care, moaning as Eddie’s strong tongue licked a long strip from your dripping hole all the way to your throbbing bud, trapping it between his teeth as you swore and curled over his head. Eddie’s large hands pinned your hips back against the window, keeping you in place as you thrashed madly against him. Your grip turned to stone in his hair and you weren’t sure if you were pulling him away because the feeling of his mouth biting and licking and sucking at your wet folds, was enough to make you cry, or if you were pulling him closer because grinding down on the hard bridge of his nose was enough to make you come right there and then.

Eddie pulled away from you suddenly as he shot to his feet, circling the sides of your head as his tongue assaulted your mouth, pressing in to each corner as he swirled around the taste of you.

“I’ve fucking missed that taste, pretty girl.” He let you breathe for a second as he watched you fumble with his belt, smiling at your whispered swearing to get it undone.

Eddie’s hot finger tips reached for the hem of your shirt, pausing with wide eyes just as he tugged it over you.

“Surprise.” You licked your lip before biting down on it, cupping the soft under side of your boobs as your thumbs pressed at the metal bars piercing both nipples.

They’d hurt like a bitch, but God Eddie’s reaction was so worth it.

“Holy fuck.” His rough hand replaced yours as the other one moved back to between your thigh, stealing a gasping moan from your lips as he traced his fingertip over your sensitive clit, ignoring the way you melted in his hands as his eyes flickered between the piercings that definitely weren’t there the last time.

“So fucking hot.” It was like the sight drove him insane, he already wasn’t being gentle with you but as his sharp teeth encircled around the bar, sucking at the soft skin before biting the errect tip of your nipple, he forgo all control.

Eddie’s hand disappeared from between your cunt, ignoring your moan of defiance as he spun your hips around, slamming you back against the window as he pressed in behind you, the clinking sound of metal coming apart before you felt the wet tip of his cock pressing against your ass.

You could still see the crowd of giggling girls beneath your naked body, in that moment you wouldn’t have even cared if the glass wasn’t tinted.

Sharp pain shot through your skull as Eddie wrapped his hand in your hand, tugging your head back until your tits were on full display, bouncing freely as he aimed himself up against your entrance, bowing your hips back to him until the arch was almost painful.

You could see the reflect of Eddie’s straining arms beneath his shirt, the reverent look on his face as his raging cock found your hole.

Eddie pushed his hips forward as you gasped out in pain, the size of him stretching you out with a burn as he filled you up, tears sprung to your eyes as your hands curled against the cold window.

“Fuck, I swear you’re even tighter.” He groaned as he dived further into you, reaching around with his free hand to rub your nipples between his fingers while his other kept your hair in a tight fist.

Either you were tighter or he’d grown even fucking bigger because you hadn’t felt this type of pleasurable pain since you first took his thick size, Eddie’s groans were sending you delirious as you let out breathless gasps, relishing in the stinging feeling as his skin slapped against yours.

“Look.” He demanded, tugging your head back harsher until your eyes opened with a snap. The window pane was clouding from the heat of your bodies as his hips bucked faster into yours, but you could still see the crowds he nodded at.

“They all wish they were you. They want my cock, but it’s all for you baby. I’ve waited two fucking years for this sweet pussy, you gonna stop being a bitch and give it to me?”

His round eyes met yours in the reflection, love and adoration flaring in them so you knew what he really meant. That tight coil in your belly lurched as he hit that good spot inside of you, earning a cry as your shaky fingers moved to your clit, no where near as good as Eddie’s but enough to bring you close to the burning edge.

“Look at you.” He grunted lustfully, releasing your hair as his hand snaked around your neck, crushing the sides of it until you were high on lack of air. Your eyes met his in the reflective glass, watching your tits bounce up and down with each plunge of Eddie’s long cock into your cunt, your face was red and formed in a state of pleasure.

He was glorious, and your eyes went blurry from the tears the feeling of him brought to your eyes. Eddie wrenched himself from you with a gasp, catching you as you slid to your knees, moving you to the couch in an instant.

“I need to see you.” He explained before pining you to the velvety cushions and crushing you with his weight. Eddie groaned into your skin as you begged for him, his cock slipping between the slick dripping from your cunt before he buried himself back in you. Your nails dragged at his shirt before Eddie tore it over his head in frustration, shivering against you as your fingers left red marks behind on his soft skin. His hair was everywhere between you as it shrouded you from light, enveloping you both in a silent dome of nothing but the euphoric feelings Eddie’s hips were thrusting into yours.

The beams in the couch dug into your back painfully as Eddie pounded away, his rings bit into your skin as he wrapped your legs around his hips, grinding his pelvis into yours with a smirk because he knew you loved it, until he noticed your grimace.

“I’m okay.” You shook your head, planting desperate kisses along his panting skin as you rolled your hips against his length inside of you.

“Bed.” Eddie grunted, always wanting you to be comfortably not matter how rough or angry the sex was. He pulled you to your feet over his lap, spinning you around as he slapped your ass and pressed a kiss to it, biting down on the soft flesh until you squealed and slipped from his grasp.

Eddie sat back in the couch as he watched your beautiful form crawl across the covers, turning back to face him on your knees with a pout as he admired you.

Eddie kicked off his jeans, leaving him completely naked while he stroked his glistening cock and threw his other arm over the back of the couch, running his thumb over the dripping head of his cock as he tilted his face to the side, biting down on his lip as you smiled at him.

“I fucking missed you.” He laughed as you curled two fingers at him, twirling your nipples with your free hand as you gasped from the pain.

“I’m still mad.” You taunted, a devious idea coming to you.

“Still?” He sighed with a smile, rolling his head back on his shoulders as his ring clad fingers tightened around his cock, collecting the slick from you cunt as his ran it up and down.

You flipped onto your back, scooting down the edge of the bed until your neck was hanging off it, watching Eddie innocently as his smile widened. You brought your knees to your chest as your hand darted between them, rubbing harsh circles on your clit as you pinched your nipples with your free hand, smirking as Eddie sprung up from the couch towards you. His cock hung heavy and wet just mere inches from you, the heady scent of his musk and your combined sweat was dripping from him as you reached out to cup his balls.

“Still.” You grinned. “So fuck it out of me.”

Eddie’s hand gripped under your jaw to tilt your head back, sliding his choking length down your throat as you gagged, Eddie moaned at the sight as he traced the outline of his bulging cock through the soft skin of your exposed throat, before moving down between your thighs to smack your hand away and give you what you needed.

Eddie’s thick tuft of pubes blinded you as he fucked your face, every single sensation and nerve ending exploded into over drive as his deft fingers slid deep inside you and curled, keeping the pad of his thumb on your clit until you were shaking and crying on the bed beneath him. The coil snapped easily as your orgasm floored you, drenching his fingers as you moaned around his cock, gripping the sheets beside you as you arched off the bed.

Eddie pulled himself from you, strings of spit dripping from his cock as he slid into the bed next to you, shaking from his own pleasure as he pulled you onto his lap on top of the sheets.

Eddie held you steady as you slid down easily onto him, more than enough wetness from your mouth and your cunt to ride him. Your ears were ringing and your eyes rolled back into your head as gripped the back of his hair. Eddie’s eyes were heavy and blown wide, watching you bounce up and down on his cock like you were a creature sent straight to hell just to corrupt him. If his throbbing cock didn’t send you into your second hazy orgasm, just the mere sight of him would have. He didn’t last long, only a few roles of your hips before Eddie’s mouth clamped down against your chest and you both froze into each other, shuddering with held breaths as waves of pleasure rocked you both and then crumbled into moans and whimpers. You felt Eddie’s hot cum pooling between your thighs, but you were both too fucked out to do anything but laugh as he encased your lips in a soft kiss between sweaty strands of hair, pressing his warm hands against your naked back to pin you to him.

Eddie’s hips bucked up into yours accidentally and you both groaned from the over sensitivity. “I missed you.”

__________________________________

You were still sitting on Eddie, like on him. His soft length was still inside of you, your wetness and his come swirled between your folds that were pressed against his hips.

Neither of you cared, and had missed the feeling of each other too much to move an inch right now. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, listening to Eddie tell you every single detail of his trip, down to the way things smelled to what the tour bus driver wore.

“It was incredible, our crowds gone from four drunks to thousands of people. Gavin says it’s only going to get bigger from here.” His excited hands fluttered to your sides as he noticed your smile drop, his own wide and goofy grin slipping.

“I can‘t do this again.” You murmured as tears spring to your eyes, hating that you weren’t strong enough to tell him to go, you’d never seen him so happy.

“Neither can I. They’re going to have to drag me out of this bed.” Eddie’s fingers traced light patterns up and down your naked back and with a genuine smile as guilt shot through you.

You shook your head as you swallowed, forcing the words that didn’t want to come out, “I’m not asking you to give up your dreams. I can’t.”

“I’m not. Come with me.” Eddie shrugged as he let the words fall so casually.

“Seriously?” The corners of your lips quirked without permission, the warm fleeting images of a life you’d never considered, flashed between you.

“Of course, the guys have their groupies. I want mine.”

The way your bodies were interlocked did dangerous things as he laughed at your expression.

“Now that you’ve got that out of your system.” He grinned, tapping the sides of your thighs with a delectable grin. “Can I make sweet, soft love to my girlfriend now?”

___________________________________

Eddie tag list } @mavex @fckyeahlames @harrys-tittie @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @chickennug90 @miss-momma-drama @luceneraium @eddiesgffff @sammararaven @nightless @dotslabyrinth @relocatedheads @princessbubblehoe @muggleluna @sagittariughs @gloryekaterina @e0509 @urlivingdeadgirl @crimsonsabbath @lem0nb0iii @lelenikki @bebe0701 @bratckerman @the-tacos-unite-blog @extravagantplant @plethoravellichor @justmesadgirl @corrodedcorpsess @fanfictioniseverything @maximizedrhythms @sleepygery @ms1oftheboys @brittanyyydamnit @xsecretsirenx @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @aaaasdfghjjkkllll @figmentofquinn @daydreamerblues @hellfire-puppet @wonderful-outcast @drakensmainbitch @iamaslutforcoffee @emolooswrld @tayhar811 @alana4610 @princesscutie23 @msgexymunson

___________________________________

#eddie smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie fanfic #eddie munson headcanon #stranger things 4 #Eddie requests #Eddie rock start #Eddie rock star

612 notes · View notes

katyawriteswhump · 2 months

Text

Bed of Roses (steddie love month, day 17)

For @steddielovemonth, Day 17 prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl ) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: prostitution, unwanted kink/abuse/pet-names (NOT between Steddie) alcoholism, substance abuse. Tags: rockstar Eddie, rent-boy Steve, make-up fic, angst, shameless perversion of Bon Jovi lyrics. WC: 2,000.

...

“'Cause a bottle of vodka's still lodged in my head…”

In his dressing room, pre-show, Eddie grasped his second bottle of vodka in an unsteady hand.

“…and some blonde gave me nightmares; I think that she’s still in my bed.”

This was NOT GOOD. Eddie had gotten sap-fest Bon Jovi lyrics slithering around his brain. He couldn’t for the life of him remember his own lyrics.

“Hey, Amigo,” he announced to the vodka. “I got a venue of ten thousand to entertain, and you’re literally my Obi-Wan—my only hope.” He caressed the bottle’s label. “80% proof, huh, Baby?”

I’m serious, Eddie, you’ve had enough. You WANT to follow Kurt Cobain into the 27-Club?

Riiiight. That was not a Bon Jovi lyric. That sounded more like Steve Harrington, in sensible-parent mode, hands planted on his slender hips.

The tears struck fast. Eddie clonked the bottle onto the dressing table then followed it, pressing his heavy head to the glass.

He seriously didn’t want to die. However, he was so through with this life. Of any life, without Steve. The cavity where his heart once lay veered between grating emptiness and an unbearable pain.

His fingers twitched toward the bottle. Screw it, the show must go on, and he’d lost his only light in the darkness…

“… as I dream about movies, they won't make of me when I'm dead.”

That still wasn’t one of his own darn lyrics. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single goddamn word of any of Corroded Coffin’s songs.

A sharp knock on the dressing-room door had him squealing like a little piggy. An old guy poked his head in.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You hired me, Mr Munson. Dirk Gordon—Private Dick?”

“Ah… Yeah, so I did.” Eddie’s rotten heart hammered way too fast. “Have you..?"

“Yes, Mr Munson. I believe I’ve found him.”

…

“What do you mean, you're not gonna pay me?” Steve wrapped his arms tight around himself. The only heating in his boss’s rundown office came from the guy’s endless chain of cigarettes. “I spent the whole evening simpering at that old dragon. You told me she liked music—I talked music endlessly.”

“You yammered on about some death-metal garbage. She likes Wagner.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “What’s Wagner? That crusty old film-star?”

“Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve. What am I gonna do with you?” His boss sauntered around the desk and hooked an arm around him.

Jesus, you stink.

“You’re good-looking, kid, you’re charming, but you simply can’t cut it with that kind of high-end client.”

“She seemed happy.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, failing to shake the guy off him. “She paid you, right?”

“Not the full whack, and you got a fancy meal out of the bitch. Look, I’ll give you your cut, if you do better tonight.”

He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck. Steve tried not to shudder. When his boss produced a piece of paper and wedged it down the back of Steve’s skin-tight jeans, he stopped trying to hide his revulsion.

“Details are all there. He’s a banking exec, early forties—no more dinners and dances with Doris, you’re spending the night at his house.”

A dry lump clogged Steve’s throat. “Is he gonna want..?”

“Sex? Christ on a bike, what trade do you think you’re in?” He squeezed Steve’s butt.

“Jesus fu—” Steve bit his lip, fixed on his damp sneakers.

“Believe me, Steve, your hair ain’t your best asset. You’re gonna have to sell that plump lil’ ass for real, sooner or later.”

Steve flinched, then schooled his features as blankly as he could.

“This guy’s got a few kinks, but as Johns go, he’s a pussycat.” He lifted Steve’s drooping chin with his knuckles. “Show him what ya got, Sport.”

Steve couldn’t get out into the drab morning fast enough. He retrieved the paper from his underwear, shoved it in a pocket unread, then stumbled, zombie-like, into a diner. “Black coffee, please? It’s an emergency.”

The waitress smiled. “You want breakfast, Steve?”

He shook his head, though his stomach grumbled.

He ended up slumped on the table, his face pillowed in his arms. Christ, ‘male escort’ had never seemed like a great idea, but he’d figured the pay would beat waiting tables. So how come he was still behind on his rent, and that he still couldn’t afford to eat some days, let alone buy his pain meds?

He muffled a miserable laugh in his elbow. He genuinely wished he could afford to get smashed, get high, because nothing could fill that gaping black hole of pain. Even worse, one of his fave Bon Jovi songs was playing on the radio, and SO not helping:

“Tonight I won't be alone, but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely.” Shit! He was fighting back dumbass tears already. “I got nothing to prove, for it’s you I’d die to defend.”

Why the hell did he run away? He can’t recall any reason that mattered anymore. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he mumbled. “I miss you so much.”

Somebody touched his elbow, and he jolted up. “Sorry, hon,’” said the waitress, “we need this table for dine-in customers.”

“Right.” Steve swiped any tell-tale moisture from his cheekbones. “I’ll clear outta your way.”

...

“Ready for playtime, Bunny Rabbit?”

Steve’s skin crawled, and his face burned. He’d gotten his head in the client’s lap, and the guy was playing with his hair. It would be tolerable, he guessed, if he’d not so often laid in Eddie’s lap like this, and… Christ, Eddie! Steve shut out the unwanted touching and began to drift. He was so beyond tired. And that song from the diner crept back:

“Now as you close your eyes, know I'll be thinking about you. While my mistress—she calls me to stand in her spotlight again…”

The pinch on his cheek startled Steve back to the present. “You kipping there, Bunny Rabbit?”

“Uh… er, sorry, Daddy.” Uuuuuuurgh! “Whatever you want, Daddy.” He dared sit up. “I’ll grab a condom and, uh… stuff.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” When Steve went to rise, his arm was grabbed, and he was held in place. “I don’t like rubbers, Cutie.”

“You heard of this thing called AIDS?” Dipshit!

Steve wrenched his arm free. The guy raised his hand and slapped him. Which wasn’t exactly out-of-the-blue, because face-slapping had been listed among this repellent son-of-a-bitch’s kinks.

“I’m paying top whack for you.” He leaned over Steve, suddenly kinda huge and scary, not least because Steve now saw double. “Your pimp said you were clean, so I’m gonna have you any way I like.”

“I… uh…” Steve kicked the bastard’s shin and shoved him hard. “Go to hell, asshole.”

He fled out into the night, still dizzy from the blow. He pulled his mesh vest back on over his head. The icy wind bit, and he realised he’d left his only jacket behind.

“Jesus Christ! JESUS CHRIST!” He kicked a lamppost, holding back on venting the true force of his feelings. Still hurt.

He limped off up the street, fast as he could. The ache in his toes at least distracted him from the ringing in his ears. An hour later, he stumbled around the corner of his block, thinking only of throwing himself into his bed, while he still had one.

He was so close, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood suddenly on end. Through the haze of his exhaustion, he realised a car crawled up the gutter behind him.

Had Mr Happy-Slappy-Sleazebag come after him? Then again, Steve’s pursuer could be anybody. After all, he was walking through a red-light district, shivering his ass off. Dressed like the whore I am. Hahaha!

The car pulled up right beside him. A blacked-out window rolled down.

Steve ran, turning sharp up a dark alley, then… Shit, shit, SHIT AGAIN! He was only a hundred yards from his digs, and yet he was so messed-up that he’d sprinted up a dead-end.

He nearly kicked the bricks. Instead, he punched them, as if that would blast through the solid wall. He turned about, bit his grazed fist, and sank slowly onto his haunches.

Two figures approached up the alley, silhouetted against the lights of the street behind. Get up, Harrington! GET UP! His legs wouldn’t obey, and his breaths came only as rapid gasps. Nothing felt real anymore. Am I gonna die..? I’m gonna die!

A hand stretched out of the gloom.

Steve stared at it—at the familiar chunky silver rings, which couldn’t be real. He glanced up, and… wtf? It was Eddie, apart from it wasn’t Eddie. This dude looked more like Eddie’s ghost. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

Maybe I scored some Benzos after all, and totally ODd.

“Stevie?”

No mistaking that voice. If this was a trip, it was a good one. Steve pried an eye open, and Eddie’s hand was still there. Steve took it, let it help him to his feet, because… Why not? Suddenly, they were in each other’s arms, clasping each other tightly. This is real. You’re real! Eddie reeked of booze, and also of something devastatingly comforting and familiar. Somebody’s wretched sobs shook through them both.

“I’m s-sorry.” Steve sounded broken. “I-I honestly don't know why I left anymore. I was such an idiot.”

“No. I was the idiot. I’m sorry, too. So very fucking sorry.” Eddie sniffed hard, lifted his tear stained cheek from Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve not been doing so good without you.”

Steve blinked the moisture from his vision. He wondered if he looked as wrecked as Eddie—red-eyed and waxy pale, under the distant glimmer of the streetlamps. Probably. If he hadn't leaned against Eddie, his legs would’ve given out again.

He laughed, without knowing why. Eddie laughed too, and it warmed Steve’s soul. “Gonna be honest, Eddie—not been doing so good without you, either.”

…

When Eddie got out of rehab, Steve waited on the steps of the clinic, hand stretched out to take his. He pulled Eddie close, and then into a sweet, lingering kiss that renewed Eddie more thoroughly than even a lengthy booze-free sleep.

“I’m never going through that again,” said Eddie, his lips still brushing against Steve’s.

Not least because I never ever want to be parted from you again, even for a fortnight.

“Yeah, but you’re dry, Eddie, and you’re alive. I’d say that’s goddamn metal of you.”

They started back to the car, hands still clasped tightly. “Not gonna take credit, Stevie. You’re what got me through.”

“You might’ve got me out of a fix, so we’re even.” Steve’s sigh rode on a wistful sadness. “I mean, I was so lost. Thinking of you was all that kept me… I dunno, alive, I guess. You know, I kept on thinking about that Bon Jovi song.”

“Uh, you know how I feel about Bon J—"

Too late. Steve burst into song: “Well, I'm so far away, each step that I take is on my way home. A king's ransom in dimes I'd give each night to see through this pay-phone—”

Eddie pressed fingers to his boyfriend’s parted lips. “As much as I hate cutting you off in your prime—two teensy-weensy issues. Firstly, I had no idea where you were, and you never called! Second, what’s wrong with my blood-and-death drenched lyrics?”

Steve took Eddie’s fingers and kissed them: “Hurt too much to think about them.”

“You know what, Sweetheart? Hurt too much to sing them, without you around. Even though none of them are actually love songs.” Eddie raised his gaze to the heavens, and looped his arms around Steve. “Go figure.”

“You sure they’re not love songs? C’mon—they’re all secretly about me, right? Only coded or something. I’ll crack it one day.”

Steve’s gently mocking smile destroyed him, in the best possible way. They tumbled into a French kiss, and he resigned himself willingly to the only thing that mattered:

“And the truth is… Baby, you’re all that I need.”

...

Thanks for reading <3 Likes, comments and reblogs always much appreciated :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on ao3).

#steddielovemonth #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie x steve #steddie love month

53 notes · View notes

italiansteebie · 1 year

Text

this was only supposed to be a paragraph im sorry

It was what Eddie so eloquently deemed “Prep Night.” The rest of Corroded Coffin thought it was kind of stupid, but entertaining, at least.

It was almost show time, and in came the hundreds of fans dressed in their nerd garb, with hints of their regular fashion popping through the tattoos and piercings that littered their bodies.

It wasn’t until halfway through the show did Eddie notice him. Soft wispy hair, thin framed glasses, and a soft yellow sweater that Eddie so desperately wanted to take off. It wasn’t a big show, 200 fans maximum, and the more intimate venues allow for some crowd work. And with sweet cheeks pressed up against the barricade, he knew just who he was going for.

—--

Steve walked into the venue, heart thrumming as he made his way to his spot against the barricades. Dustin was hot on his heels, Corroded Coffin being the first band that introduced him to the metal scene. To his surprise, none other than jock, Steve Harrington, loved the band too. He says jock with love of course, the guy had been his babysitter for forever, so, who better to go to the concert with him?

They were practically shaking with excitement, once in their places at the barricade, Steve manages to finally take a look around. “Hm. Not what I expected people to be dressed like at a CC concert…” Dustin snorts at this. He’d seen the “Prep Night” flier on instagram, and happened to forget to tell Steve about it. But it doesn’t matter, he fits right in. The crowd was buzzing, “Oh, yeah! It’s Prep Night!” Dustin yelled over the noise, and right as Steve was about to reply, the house lights dropped, in lieu of a reply, an excited scream ripped through Steve’s throat.

They’d made it through half of the show, ribs pressed against the metal, it hurt, but the music made all the pain worthwhile.

“What’s up, Indiana?!”

A wall of cheers responds.

“What an amazing turn out for our annual prep night! Woo!!”

From the stage Eddie watched as yellow sweater screamed. ‘He really went all out for tonight,’ Eddie thought as his gaze locked on him. He watched as he screamed, shaking the guy beside him by his shoulders. That’s when he caught the flash of silver poking through his tongue, and Eddie almost dropped to his knees. He’d been looking for the guys' metal scene fashion sense and hadn't been able to catch it until now. He almost regrets looking for it. Almost.

Eddie shook himself back into the frontman role. “Now! One of you… Really nailed it for prep night. And lucky for you, tonight we celebrate it!”

The crowd cheered louder than it had all night, a surprising feat from the already deafening noise level. Eddie smirked, gaze returning to yellow sweater, “Will the man with the fluffy hair, in the yellow sweater PLEASE, come up on stage?” He watched as his mouth dropped, the kid besides him screaming, twin smiles across their faces.

The crowd screams again as yellow shirt is helped up on stage by a security guard. It was no secret to their fans that Eddie is gay, and with yellow sweater in such close proximity, he just couldn’t help himself. “Damn, gorgeous.” This time he did fall to his knees, holding a hand up towards yellow sweater, catching his red cheeks in the stage lights. He brings the mic close to his lips, “What’s your name, baby?” Eddie hands him the mic, “It’s Steve,” his voice comes out breathless and Eddie struggles to rise to his feet.

“Give it up for Steve!”

Eddie’s been handed another microphone, “Congratulations on winning Prep night, I gotta say…” Eddie’s eyes flick up and down taking in Steve’s whole look. “You really nailed it, you look like you dress like this every day.” Steve laughs, holding his own microphone up to his lips, “I do!” He cheers.

And Eddie thought he was intoxicating, but Steve. Damn. The crowd went wild for this prep, and he couldn’t blame them.

And if Eddie was dead before, he was in heaven now, because Gareth and the guys had started the next song, and Steve had taken it upon himself to sing in Eddie’s place. And fuck. He was good.

Style really means nothing because Steve was going wild on the stage, ending note ringing out as he landed on his knees, chest heaving, eyes flicking around the crowd, a tinny smile spreading across his face as he held his arms out.

Shaken from his state, Eddie saunters over to Steve, smirking as his arms drop to his sides. Eddie places a finger under his chin, lifting it ever so that Steve is looking into his eyes. “Wait for me in my dressing room after the show,” He tells him, smirking as he tries to subtly adjust his pants.

Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun.

235 notes · View notes

strawberrywinter4 · 3 months

Text

Fandom: Loki (TV 2021), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Relationship: Loki/Mobius. M. Mobius

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Loki Laufeyson, Mobius M. Mobius, Sylvie, Casey, Brad Wolfe, Hunter B-15, Ouroboros, Ravonna Lexus Renslayer, Thor

Notable Tags: Rock Star AU, Rock Star! Loki, Agent! Mobius, music industry, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, music festivals, Slow Burn, Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Bottom Loki, Top Mobius, Traveling

Summary: Rising rock star, Loki Laufeyson, is having difficulty keeping his reputation in check. His manager hires him one of the industry's most wanted agents, Mobius. M. Mobius. Loki is displeased by this arrangement and does everything he can to change this nonchalant man's mind about being his agent. However, Loki is struck with a growing attraction to the agent in this process. To his secret enjoyment, Mobius seems to be experiencing the same feelings.

As this relationship grows, Loki and Mobius must conquer the world of fame by dodging reporters, dealing with toxic past lovers, and paving the way to the life they truly desire.

Playlist here

Read chapter 1 here.

Thank you @starrose17 for the inspiration!!

#lokius fanfic #lokius #loki tv #loki series #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x mobius #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #loki fandom #writerscommunity #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #Melodies in the Dark #rock star #Rock Star AU

49 notes · View notes

couldawouldashoulda50 · 6 months

Text

The Distance and the Time Between Us

A/N: So this is my attempt at writing my very first series involving William Nylander.

Overall, it is more or less a “right place, right person, wrong time” type of storyline. The fem reader grew up outside of Toronto and is gifted in all things music. She’s had world-wide success as part of a band as well as a stellar solo career. She’s been bestowed with absolute (perfect) pitch and has been categorized as one of the best singers/musician/songwriters of recent time.

Where it was suitable, I have tried to be accurate with various facts but I will at certain points be changing reality around to aid in the story. I guess that’s the beauty of fiction; you can snap your fingers and make it so, no matter what it is.

Not to sound like I’m accepting an Ocscar, but I wanted to thank @leafs-lover and @spine-buster for interacting so kindly with me as a newcomer to this space, and for reading through the first iterations of my thoughts blurted out onto the page.

Not to beat this to death, but I’m still figuring out Tumblr so hopefully I won’t make a giant mess of things as I post each new segment.

Warnings - allusions to sex, swearing, end of a relationship, I think that’s it

Word Count - 3.8k

----------------------

September, 2021

The end of the evening hits differently than you thought it would.

A few hours ago, up on the bandshell stage with your bandmates, Brandon (the guitarist, alongside you, and vocals), announced to the audience that you and the band were taking a step back from performing, recording and touring. For the past decade (give or take), the band that you co-founded with Brandon had achieved remarkable success along with fame and fortune. You all had far exceeded the low expectations that many had when you began your music careers together.

And it was time….in fact, it was very much overdue.

Personal lives are albeit neglected in order to reach this pinnacle of stardom and for once, you all mutually agreed that it was time to give up the rigours of a touring band and enjoy life. After all, for all that’s been sacrificed, you all deserved it.

The other members, Maebh (bass, vocals) and Colin (drum, vocals), together had their blossoming family to look forward to. Brandon and his partner wanted to pursue other musical interests. There was a sense of excitement, and relief, leaving behind the pressure-cooker lifestyle that your lives had become.

And then there was you.

In one sense, you had been dreaming of this moment for years. Almost complete freedom from all the commitments from both your explosive solo career, and the band from which you emerged. Until now, it had always been one more appearance, one more record, one more song, one more tour, one more interview, one more movie - year after year after year. On the surface, you were one of the most successful and sought-after musical artists of the past 10 years. Coupled with your band’s success, your individual success had been nothing short of magical. The drive and determination you possessed, alongside a bit of luck and (mostly) sensibility propelled you up to and through the insanity of stardom. You always made sure you kept grounded and were full of gratitude, always keeping your humility intact. You had become, in the eyes of the entertainment world, the epitome of grace and etiquette under such scrutiny and pressure.

On the flipside, you have been grappling with an overwhelming sense of despair and an ache deep within that you can almost taste since the moment the band made its decision.

Now that this last performance was in the books (and it was an incredibly successful one at that), you sit in the backseat with your sullen thoughts as your driver navigates the SUV towards your Toronto home. You glance over to your manager, Evelyn, and choke back a sob - your throat constricts and you bite your lip to try and will back the tears that threaten to fall.

Evelyn's typical stoic demeanour softens for a moment, and she grabs your hand; she's well aware of what has gotten you in this state.

You return to staring out the window; your mind replaying what you’ve sacrificed for your career and the fear of the unknown with your future.

The reality is that it's not what you've sacrificed, but whom.

It was when you saw William in the crowd tonight, surrounded by peers, teammates and countless beautiful women, the pit in your stomach formed. You weren't prepared to see him and God, he looked better than anyone should ever be allowed to.

The pit grew as you saw him singing along to the songs sung by your voice.

It grew even more as you saw his eyes fixed on you perform alongside some NHL players and other hockey notables in attendance who came up on stage to sing their favourite songs with you - clearly fueled by the liquid courage that was in abundance at the event.

The pit became virtually unbearable as you saw him laughing and dancing with a beautiful girl that was not looking like anything plutonic. At least not in the way she was clinging onto him.

It was no small feat to get through the rest of the night, performing and interacting with the crowd as effortlessly as you did. Trying not to focus on the thought of him being close enough to breathe the same air as you. If you glanced his way, you forced yourself to dismiss the idea that he was often stealing glances back at you, or the notion that perhaps he might still want you as much as you clearly still wanted him. You became a master at suppressing your feelings in the past and tonight was no exception.

It had been almost two years since you last saw or heard from William.

At the start of September of 2019, you and William found yourselves yet again in a familiar place in life; William beginning another hockey season, single, after he and his girlfriend had parted ways during the summer and you returning to your home town of Toronto to visit loved-ones after a summer of festival performances and travelling.

Your calendar was full with invitations to many high profile events in the city and your attendance always drew quite a crowd. As usual, you were attending all of the events alone which seemed to be mercilessly pointed out by every entertainment news correspondent that lined the red carpet. William would catch a glimpse of you on TV as they showed you arriving at a film festival party or an exclusive restaurant, and soon thereafter, you'd receive a notification from him on your phone.

That is how it always started; a few sweet and flirty text messages, then a couple of phone calls and not long after, you and William would be tangled in the sheets of either your luxurious Toronto home or at his hi-rise condo that boasted an incredible view of the city. It was such a natural and easy existence when you were together. As overly sugary as it might sound to most, your insides felt like there were beams of sunshine that would radiate through your body from the sheer sight of him. Somehow, you always felt calm and at peace in his presence.

Simply put, it always felt incredible spending time with him and it always brought out the best of you. You felt happy and it was very apparent William felt that way too.

However, true to the pattern of the past few years, you would need to leave again, having to depart mid-way through October for an unknown period of time. You had several performances booked throughout Europe, Asia, and Australia followed by more exclusive appearances for royalty and dignitaries around the world. Leaving William throughout the years under these same circumstances only became increasingly difficult, leaving you both heart-sick for a time afterward. Eventually you both would bounce back and resume life without too many broken-hearted thoughts about each other swirling around in your heads.

You and he had often discussed trying a long-distance relationship, only for you to hold firm on your initial refusal. You had always maintained it was not fair to him to have no say or input on when you could see one another. You felt it was too much to ask someone as young as him to have to stand by and watch everyone around him celebrate with their significant others, or be consoled by them, while he has to go it alone. He deserved to be in a relationship where both people were utterly devoted to one another; you desperately wanted to be that person but your contract obligations just kept stacking up against you and those circumstances were out of your control.

Once you had returned to London, sitting alone in the new opulent townhome you had just bought in Knightsbridge, you had made the decision on a dreary November evening in 2019, that it was time you fought for what you wanted; the man you had fallen in love with.

Calculating the time difference, it was nearing dinner time in Toronto on William’s day off. Barely able to contain your excitement, you sent William a text asking him to call you. It wasn't long before your phone rang and the familiar picture of his jersey appeared on the screen. Your excitement quickly dissipated once you answered; it was clear from his low, soft tone that this call was not going to be a happy one.

Before even getting to your reason for wanting to talk, you had asked if he was ok. He paused for a torturously long period of time and said he was not. He explained that it had become too much for him after these past few years to be on this rollercoaster of being lovers (mostly secret lovers at that), for such short moments in time, only to have to watch you leave again and again and never being certain when you’d return. He wanted to be able to give all of himself to another and up until that point, he had quietly kept a part of his heart solely for you. To pour salt into an open wound, he finally added that the level of celebrity you had reached was not something he felt he could handle as the pressure of being inevitably thrust into an even bigger spotlight is not what he wanted in a relationship.

An extreme ache travelled through your body. You felt blindsided. Perhaps it wasn't for the reasons that William rhymed off for wanting to essentially sever ties with you, but more that you had finally succumbed to your deep feelings of love for him and now it was too late. Your heart completely shattered from his words as the visions of your future with him disintegrated into nothingness.

William quietly apologized, his voice barely above a whisper. He said he had to go and hung up, never giving your brain a chance to catch up or for your voice to speak.

Once the call ended, the friendship you had with him ended. In your mind, he became an apparition - nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

The many memories that you had of the two of you together became too much to bear and with that, you clicked into total self-preservation mode. You no longer followed him or his siblings on any social platform. Aside from a select few, you limited your interactions with the Maple Leafs, many of whom you had become friends with over the years along with their significant others. You wouldn’t watch game highlights or check scores - you untethered yourself from anything to do with William.

It was not long after that painful conversation that you heard William and a previous on-again/off-again girlfriend were back together. It was exactly what you expected, which was of little comfort. The heartache you felt was profound and rather than giving yourself time to grieve or heal or whatever you needed to do, you allowed the loss of his existence in your life to harden you. Save from your close friendships and your family, you no longer cared about the love aspect of a normal human life.

Between rehearsals for your tour, you threw yourself into writing music; sitting for hours on end in your state of the art recording studio on the lower level of your home. Up until that point, you had a massive catalogue of songs that, at the very least, uplifted people. The message of your songs had now transitioned to loss. The record execs salivated with each song you presented - dollar bills in their eyes given the huge music market for words rife with longing and regret. Even the accompanying music you created held the same vibe; music that would make the hardest person want to weep. As time went on, your songs were released under the guise of other popular singers. The releases were wildly successful which further catapulted your reputation into the stratosphere, being deemed as one of the most talented songwriters in current time. With all the notoriety, you found it difficult to embrace the new heights in popularity and monetary gain, given that it was all based on the inner turmoil of someone that felt as broken as you did.

There was a domino effect with shutting down the pleasure side of life; your once effervescent personality was replaced with forced smiles and you were noticeably disengaged in conversation. The change in your demeanour didn’t go unnoticed with your circle of friends. Forever begging you to come out before you departed on the first leg of your tour, your friends tried to rally around you, nearly breaking down the double doors to your home to let them in.

Even the rare times you relented and allowed them to drag you to all the exclusive clubs that dotted London’s Soho and other districts close by, you ended up drinking little and leaving early.

Despite how you felt, you always looked exquisite, dressing in elegant attire that perfectly accentuated your shapely figure, and hair and makeup that were magazine worthy. Other than writing and recording music, dressing up was one of the few things that surprisingly made you feel better, even if it was for a fleeting moment.

The good feelings were often chased away as a result of the jeers and catcalling which inevitably started from the snobby and ill-mannered men that occupied space at each club. What these men had in money, from their aristocratic lineage or otherwise, they lacked in every trait you valued. If it didn’t make you feel ill first, it made you seethe with rage with their greasy, vulgar, drunken comments about what they would do to you if they got you alone. After berating them for their tastelessness, and saying apologetic goodbyes to your friends, you would leave to go home. The rage that coursed through your body would then dial down to frustration which would then lead to a pit of sadness.

Washing the night off in your oversized bathtub, you started to sob. Tears streamed down your face forming tributaries along your cheeks to your jawline before dissolving in the hot bath water. You missed William totally and completely. His friendship. His laugh. His face. His touch. The way he felt under you or on top of you. The way he looked so disheveled when he’d first wake up. The taste of his tongue against yours. When he teased you of how badly you suck at every video game you tried. The list of things you missed about William felt endless. You were certain, more than ever now, if you were to ever try to love again, you would have to settle for someone that was a distant second to him. That thought broke you even more.

As the days leading to the end of 2019 grew shorter, and weather more miserable, your mood and thoughts about William changed, seemingly adopting the climate that surrounded you. You started to convince yourself that perhaps the feelings you and he shared weren’t really real; perhaps he had been wheeling you since you met. Your thoughts continued to darken when you realized you were likely nothing more to him than just a convenience when he was in between relationships; he used you like a disposable girlfriend…once you would leave for your next project, he was totally free to move on to someone else. For all you knew, maybe you were amongst a string of girls he was wheeling. It would not be unheard of.

More and more you pieced the puzzle of your own design together. He couldn’t have loved you - even though he admitted that he did when you were in his arms last. Once you had whispered the same to him, it was like floodgates opening with the words “I love you” that flowed effortlessly between you. You told each other every chance you had during that last blip of time together.

You resumed the previous thought. He couldn’t have loved you to only turn around and cut you off the way he did, a mere month later.

Once the tour began, the moment came when you all but discarded the loving feelings you once had for William and forced out the amazing memories. You continued to captivate audiences around the world with your powerful songs and incredible voice. Images and videos of you being celebrated for your beauty and elegance were in continuous rotation on every social media platform. Leading up to award season, your name was on repeat for several music award nominations. You graced a number of red carpet events and attended after parties, always looking ravishing as you engaged in chats with interviewers and stopped to take pictures with other celebrities and onlookers.

Your mind snapped back to reality as the SUV pulled up to and through the security gate of your sprawling Toronto home. You thanked the driver and Evelyn politely asked him to wait for her, and you and Evelyn disappeared into the house.

You stood in the front foyer for a moment, soaking in the fact that this is where you’ll be hanging your hat, both literally and figuratively, until you decide where you truly want to be. As beautiful of a house as you had here in this city, you knew it would take a lot more than an exquisite interior to make it feel like a home. All you wanted was for your home to be filled with love and laughter and family and friends.

“Why don’t you just head straight to bed…you look like you’re ready to collapse” Evelyn said, picking up your small suitcase and walking toward your master bedroom on the main floor.

You ran your hands gently over your face, trying to stimulate enough alertness to respond.

“Very good idea…God, I’m just beyond. I think I may end up sleeping for 2 days straight” you said.

The adrenaline that surges through your body during your performances is a feeling like no other, but you knew the downside to that was utter exhaustion after the fact.

The welcome sight of your large California King bed took hold, and you immediately stripped down to your bra and panties, and slipped between the crisp cotton sheets, pulling the overstuffed duvet up over your shoulders. Evelyn continued bringing in a few more of your belongings into the bedroom, all the while, you could already feel yourself sinking into the mattress and the urge to sleep was taking hold.

“Thank you Evelyn…for everything. I don’t know what it’s going to be like not to see you almost every day”. Your eyes welled up with tears, your throat tight with emotion.

“I’m going to LA, not Mars…all you need to do is call. You just remember - we made an incredible team, and that was just as much you as it was me. Evelyn paused. “You have been such a gift to my life.” and she leaned over to kiss the top of your head.

“Call me soon and let me know how it’s going with your new act” you yawned, and started to drift off.

“Do you want me to turn your phone off?” Knowing the answer already, she didn’t wait for a response….you had fallen asleep already anyway.

Evelyn grabs your phone from the charger and sees text notifications on the lock screen.

Knowing your passcode, she bypasses the biometric prompt and the home screen appears.

Evelyn realized your phone had been on do not disturb for quite some time. She taps the message icon and sees a familiar name as the sender.

The first text is short, sent earlier that night.

Hey - it’s William Hoping to get a chance to talk when you have a min

Then there’s a second text sent a little while after the first:

Are you still here?

Then lastly:

K - well. I hope you’re staying in TO for a bit. Would like to see you.

Evelyn looks over at you, sound asleep, and considers the options.

Ignore the messages, turn off your phone and leave it for you to decide on how to handle it once you’ve got some rest.

Text William back on your behalf to at least let him know you’re home and to try back in a day or two

Wake you up to show you the messages.

Given your current peaceful resting state, and knowing you like virtually no other, Evelyn is aware that waking you up now would only unleash a rabid and maniacal beast - and she wanted no part in that.

Just as she considers shutting the phone off, the words “Incoming Call” appear with “Ny88” underneath.

Evelyn stares at the caller for a moment and then picks up.

“Hello, Y/N’s phone”

“Um - Hi…this is William, a friend of Y/N. I was trying to get a hold of her for a couple of hours…I was just, uh…worried”. William’s voice trails off

“Hi William, it’s Evelyn…not sure if you remember me; we met a few years ago. Y/N’s back home now - sorry, she had her phone on do not disturb. Not sure why.” Evelyn confesses. “But she was knackered and is asleep now….I think you know the drill with her after she comes off after a concert” Evelyn laughs.

“Oh, right - yes…hey Evelyn. Yeah - I remember…she’s down for the count afterwards” William chuckles. “Well, I was hoping to bump into her tonight after the show but it seems like she was surrounded the entire time.”

Evelyn paused, unsure of exactly how much she should convey to William.

“I know it’s been awhile; she would have liked to have seen you, I’m sure.”

There was further silence, and remembering she had a flight to catch, Evelyn tried to speed up the conversation. “Do you want me to leave her a message for her to call you when she wakes up?

“Fuck…that'll be days” William muttered under his breath, suddenly realizing Evelyn may have heard. “Sorry…shit…scratch that, '' he said nervously. "I…I just really was hoping to see her or talk with her tonight, but I guess that's not possible" he said, defeated.

Evelyn looks down at you sleeping. She recalls the car ride home, you flushed and wrought with emotion as the memories you suppressed of William came flooding back. She watched you during the intermissions of tonight's performance hiding away in the dressing area, trying to keep your shit together after seeing William in the crowd. She had seen you at your highest highs over the years when you and William were able to spend time together and at your lowest low after he ended it.

You finally have the time now, she thought - so it's go time…now or fucking never.

"I've got to catch a flight, so I'm leaving straight away. If I give you the security codes to get in, I can trust you that she'll be in good hands, right William?" Evelyn paused before finishing with "Because so help me God William, if I hear of anything to the contrary, you do not want to see my other side."

“I’m leaving now” William says with a rushed tone and hangs up before Evelyn has a chance to respond.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #nhl imagine #hockey fic #rock star #musician #right person wrong time #angst #fanfic #nhl fanfiction

51 notes · View notes

falling-star-cygnus · 1 month

Text

saw a comparison between Bennett and Aventurine and how they were both burdened by their luck and felt compelled to write them meeting -> note: im not really that far or that in to Star Rail. So if Aventurine's characterization is off, i do sincerely apologize

takes place after meeting Sparkle :D {and if it's obvious im bullshitting in some places, no it's not <3} pry Lichtenburg Bennett out of my bony dead hands

{An ornate chip sparkles in the dazzling lamplights as it's flipped high in the air}

{It lands in the palm of an irate blond, one that smiles as he strolls along the pathways of the deserted night. The chip repeats it's flight.}

"That crazed Fool..."

{Aventurine's nose scrunches despite his efforts to keep an elated face. It's not like anyone's around to see him, but- still. The first step to living a lie is to fool yourself first. The chip is weighing heavy in his palm, so he flicks it up again.}

{And again. And again. And again. Sparkle's words echo in his head.}

"- are you from Sigonia?" "I say you belong to the space under the manhole cover, not in a dream." "...the lapdogs of the IPC."

{Lapdog.}

{The next few moments feel wrapped in honey, sticky sugar thickening his mind to a snail's crawl. His fingers brush a blackened code on his neck, a sigh breezing out a clenched jaw}

{For the first time, the chip lands wrong in his hand. It's pinched between the junction of his pinkie and palm, rocketed to the side as Aventurine's fist clenches}

"Ack-!"

{...}

{Who was that?}

{Aventurine hadn't made that sound.}

{Slowly, like his head was moved by marionette strings, he turns his gaze to the side. The sight of a boy with ashy blond curls greets him.}

{He's clutching his nose in one hand, the chip Aventurine had accidentally shot at him [seriously- what are the odds?] nestled in the other.}

"Ow... where did that come from? I almost wish it was a rock."

{The older man shakes himself out of his daze, quickly but casually making his way over. This boy was young- or at least looked and sounded young- so... a gentler persona should be the ideal approach}

{Fuck if he knew how to approach kids though.}

"Hey there! So sorry about that, it slipped from my hand!"

{Bright emeralds snap to attention. It actually gives Aventurine pause, how bright they are. Pure. He would almost believe them unburdened if it wasn't for the snarled scar speared through his bicep and Lichtenburg figures peeking out around his neck}

"No, no- it's ok! I probably shouldn't have been walking so close anyway.. It's just- I'm kind of lost?"

{Aventurine blinks.}

{He wasn't lying of course, for once the chip quite literally slipped from his hand. Which- almost never happens, he'll admit. An unlucky incident that... was kind of thrilling. To be unlucky- not to hit a scar riddled kid in the face.}

{But still, was this new blondie really going to take him at face value? Not even a suspicious side eye? Talk about naivete...}

{And- lost? How do you get lost in a dream. That takes some serious skill...}

{Unless he was lying. Penacony was full of those after all.}

"Sir...?" "I was wondering why I hadn't seen someone like you around here before!"

{The sudden switch from quiet introspection to enthusiasm startles the kid back a step. Minor setback, that was fine. He could still salvage this encounter.}

{He offers his hand to innocent emeralds}

"Lost, huh? That's unfortunate, kid. What's your name?" "Oh- I'm Bennett!"

{Bennett fumbles for a second, going to shake Aventurine's hand with the one still holding the poker chip before switching to the one over his nose.}

{Poor kid pulls that one away too when he sees the speckles of blood on it. Shit, did he really hit him that hard? He knew the chip was heavy but he didn't think it was that heavy.}

{There was already a bandage pressed over his nose too...}

{Aventurine shakes his bloodied hand when he notices the boy growing increasingly distressed. They were both wearing gloves anyway, so it's not like it was a major issue.}

"Well, nice to meet you, Bennett. Even if it's under... unlucky circumstances."

{The older man was hardly ever unlucky. There was a reason he was called Aventurine, damnit. He never lost a game of chance. And he never made a losing bet. Something else was afoot here, he was sure of it.}

{The once white bandages over Bennett's nose slowly gets swallowed by red as the kid gives a weak little laugh}

"I'm pretty notorious for unlucky circumstances, actually. No matter where I go, my bad luck always seems to cause problems for other people..."

{...}

{Aeons, he looked so sad. Aventurine's chest actually hurts a little just looking at the boy. After all, he wasn't the one with a bloody nose. Fake as it was in this dream world.}

"Nonsense, friend. You've hardly caused me any problems. If anything, I owe you an apology for nailing you in the nose."

{Unintentionally.}

{The older man wraps an arm around the kid's shoulder's to steer him towards one of the many shops in Dreamville. They didn't actually have any vendors in them at this time, but they had to at least have one bandage somewhere. Right?}

{Although with Bennett's luck, maybe not.}

"Let's get you a new bandage, yeah?" "Oh-! I have one right here!"

{And lo and behold, he produces a near identical bandage from one of the pouches hanging from his belt. The only difference was the rounded corners.}

{Aventurine plucks the bandage from between Bennett's fingers to apply before the kid can insist on doing it himself}

"You must get hurt a lot to just have this on you, huh?" "Ah, heh. I guess? But that just comes with the territory of being an adventurer! And- with being unlucky too..."

{An adventurer, huh? That explained the scars, at least a little}

{He slowly peels the ruined bandage off Bennett's nose and flicks it off to the side. To his surprise, it doesn't cleanly make it into a trash can. No, the wadded up thing bounces off the side and, for a second, Aventurine resigns himself to having to walk over and pick it up}

{But it does go in- having bounced straight up instead of back at the blond duo- so he won't actually have to pause in treating his new friend's injury. That feeling of anticipation that fluttered in his throat though... was that how normal people felt? Unsure that something would go there way but hoping it would?}

"Woah... that was so cool!" "...It was, wasn't it?"

{For once, Aventurine felt genuine. Like he earned this bout of boasting. He felt... normal around this kid. ...Huh.}

{The older man smooths the new bandage over Bennett's nose, careful with the pressure he applies. The waxy paper slips between his fingers before he can throw the backside away}

{The boy catches it, innocent emeralds widening when it lands secure in atop the poker chip still in his palm}

"Maybe our lucks are rubbing off on each other, Benny." "Ah-! No, I'm sor-"

{Aventurine ruffles Bennett's hair before he can finish}

"Don't apologize, it's a good thing. I happen to have spectacular luck, I'll have you know. It really takes the fun out of winning." "It does?" "Completely."

{Bennett looks thoughtful at that, glancing down at chip in his glove. Innocent emeralds widen again as he shakes the backside of the bandage into his other glove to hold the disc out to Aventurine}

"I never gave you your chip back!"

{The older man reaches for it, but- he doesn't know if he'll ever see this kid again. Hm...}

{He plucks the waxy film out of his other hand, completely ignoring the chip}

"Please, I have hundreds of those. Keep it."

{Bennett sputters, but Aventurine can't see him as he walks to throw the film away}

"I can't take this-! It looks expensive!"

{It certainly can be exchanged for a lot of credits.}

"Think of it as... a memento of our friendship." "But- I didn't give you anything."

{The older man laughs, startling even himself.}

"Give me something next time we meet then, Bennett."

{It isn't until Aventurine is almost out of sight that he realizes he never gave the kid his name.}

{Well. There was always next time.}

#in my flop era #you cannot convince me that Aventurine's bedazzled poker chip is not heavier then a rock.#you just can't #genshin impact #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr aventurine #genshin impact bennett #hsr fanfic #genshin fanfic #aventurine #bennett #genshin crossover #star rail crossover #hoyoverse #mihoyo #honkai #star rail

45 notes · View notes

squirrellypoo · 11 months

Text

The many occupations of fic Lestat de Lioncourt

I thought when I posted The many occupations of fic Louis de Pointe du Lac that there really weren't enough non-rockstar ones to do a similar list for Lestat. But I was wrong! It turned out that he has nearly as many diverse talents in the various fic AUs as Louis!

Again, this is just a list off the top of my head of ones I’ve read and enjoyed, though please do tell me in the comments if I’ve missed any.

Ballet dancer in “Meet me at the barre” by @dancermk Porn Star in “Pretty Boy” by @the-blackstag Instrument importer in “you’re the one, designed for me” Mafia boss in “Saveur de La Maison” by @suikamelon6 CEO in “it’s like a suckerpunch straight to my heart” by @thefairylights Actor in “Practical Ethics” by @prouvaireafterdark Antiques dealer/importer in “good to love” by @brightfelon Coven master in “Under the blood moon” by @revolution-starter Model in “Let the Flesh Instruct the Mind” Priest in “It’s a Sin” Actor in “Wishful Desires” Museum curator in “Reformation” Construction worker in in “Analyst Retentive” by @calipsan

Rock star/musician in (deep breath)... “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same (modern loustat series)” by @thefairylights “Cord of Communion” by @brightfelon “Brooklyn Baby” “Music when the sun goes down” by @mythicaltzu “The Saint” by @revolution-starter “see-through” “The Splendour of Us” by @lesfleursrouges ...and a Music producer in “Your mouth and madness” by @brightfelon

Yes, there are tons and tons more featuring Rockstar Lestat which makes sense since it's canon, but I've left out all the incredible book-based fics that recount the SF pre-concert reunion, for example.

Apologies for inevitably missing off any authors here. Tell me if one's yours and I'll edit to add!

#iwtv #iwtv fic #iwtv fanfiction #iwtv fanfic #loustat fic #loustat fic rec #loustat #lestat de lioncourt #rock star lestat #interview with the vampire #iwtv fandom

119 notes · View notes

xoxoladyaz · 9 months

Text

AU-gust, Day 6: Domestic

Eddie Munson was a rockstar. Eddie Munson was a renegade. Eddie Munson was a bad boy, living life on the edge, destined for wild nights on the open road, for success and fame and riches. Eddie Munson was –

“ – ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie whirled around from psyching himself up in the mirror to glare at Jeff. Jeff, who had the utter nerve to roll his eyes at him.

“You’re being ridiculous, man,” Jeff repeated.

“He’s not being ridiculous, he’s being a baby,” Gareth cut in with a snort.

Eddie gaped at his two best friends, his musketeers, his brothers in arms. “What – I – how dare you! I am not being a baby, I’m Eddie fucking Munson, I’m a high-rolling freak on the streets and in the sheets - ”

“Dude, gross.”

“ – who’s ready to rock across America!” He finished emphatically.

Jeff just quirked his eyebrow at him. “You’re literally pouting right now.”

“No, I’m not!”

Jeff and Gareth shared a look before sighing in tandem. “You’ve gone to bed before eleven every night the last few weeks. The rest of us aren’t even out of the venue by the time you’re asleep,” Gareth started.

“Not to mention the fact that you can’t do anything in the morning until you’ve called and talked to Steve,” Jeff continued.

“And if you can’t talk to Steve during his lunch break then you’re grumpy for the rest of the day.”

“You keep complaining about the fact that none of his shirts smell like him anymore - ”

“ – seriously, you threw a temper tantrum until Stu stopped and bought a bottle of his shitty cologne for you to spray on your pillow - ”

“ – and you keep making super long and sappy speeches about missing your ‘sweetheart’ every single performance before we play ‘Faithfully’ - ”

“ – it’s embarrassing dude, we’re a metal band!”

“ – and to top it all off, you literally can’t go more than three minutes without talking about Steve or what Steve would think of what we’re driving by and God forbid you make any sort of decision without talking to Steve first.”

Eddie stood frozen, paralyzed by the heat rushing towards his face. “I – I do not!”

Phil walked in from the back of the bus and chuckled. “Dude, you literally called him to ask if you should order ketchup or mustard with your burger last night.”

“I - ” Eddie sputtered before crossing his arms. “I – he was having burgers too and I wanted us to match!”

“Awww,” Gareth cooed mockingly, fluttering his eyes back at Eddie. “That’s so sweet.”

“Ignore him,” Jeff said, shoving Gareth off of his chair. “For the record, it is really sweet, man. So why are you trying to hide it with all this ‘bad boy of rock and roll stuff?’”

“What do you mean ‘hide it?’ I’ve always been a bad boy.”

Silence. (If they weren’t on a moving bus and had their windows open, it would have been the perfect moment for a symphony of crickets to kick in.)

Eddie squeezed his arms against his chest and pouted (and yes, he knew he was pouting this time, thank you very much.) “Rude.”

Jeff rose with a sigh and crossed the tour bus. When he reached Eddie he threw his arm around him in a half-hug. “Eds, my man, I love you, but you’ve only ever been scary looking.”

“Seriously, you’re the sappiest guy I know,” Gareth added unhelpfully.

“And before you say that’s not metal,” Jeff kept going (and yeah, he knew Eddie pretty well to head off that train of thought), “that’s what sets us apart from the rest of the bands on the scene.”

“What does?”

“You being a super loving guy, man,” Phil nodded with a dazed look in his eyes. “Truthfully, I think love is the most metal thing of all. It can change the world.”

“Wow,” Gareth snorted after a few moments, “have you gotten up close and personal with Mary Jane already today?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

“What Phil is trying to say is that you’re made of love, dude. And it’d be a real shame if you lost track of that, especially because that��s what we love about you, and that’s what Steve loves about you,” Jeff finished. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder comfortingly before letting go.

“You’re right,” Eddie rubbed his hands against his arms. “I know you’re right, it’s just – this was supposed to be what I wanted, you know? Touring and fame and the open road. But - ”

Jeff prodded him gently. “But?”

“But I miss Steve,” Eddie sighed. “I miss seeing him come home every day. I miss waking up next to him every morning and falling asleep next to him every night. I miss his delicious pasta dinners and his burned pancakes because he always burns them and I just – I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I just miss him. But I don’t want to give up what we have either.”

The boys were silent for a moment, looking amongst each other and back at Eddie, who was wilting in on himself.

“Well,” Phil started, “we don’t have to tour like this. We could just do weekends maybe?”

“Or summers,” Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “That way Steve can come with us.”

“And Will!” Gareth perked up, grinning. “He doesn’t take classes in the summers, he’d be able to come with us then.”

“And that way by the time we’re done touring, Steve will be headed back to work and you can be home with him,” Jeff nodded, like it was decided. “We can definitely make that work.”

Eddie’s voice was small and quiet when he spoke. “You’d really do that for me?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be just ‘for you,’ it would be good for all of us, but yeah, man. We just want you to be happy. That’s way more important than any tour.”

Eddie nodded once, twice, and then he was throwing his arms around Jeff and tackling him to the floor. “Thank you thank you thank you, you guys are the best, Steve’s gonna be so excited I gotta go tell him RIGHT NOW - ” and then Eddie was off, whooping happily into the back of the tour bus.

Jeff sat up from his spot now on the floor and exchanged looks with Gareth and Phil. “You’re good with that, yeah?”

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t going to say anything, I was,” Gareth shook his head. “Eddie’s way less of a slob when Steve’s around.”

“And he’s a great cook! I’m getting tired of all this Taco Bell.”

“Speak for yourself, Phil!” Gareth growled, affronted, and the three remaining Corroded Coffin members began arguing about the nutritional benefits of Taco Bell.

(When they finally went on tour again the following summer it was a much better experience for everyone involved. Eddie was almost constantly in a good mood, Gareth didn’t feel the need to strangle Eddie for hogging the phone, Phil ate his weight in homemade – or hotel-made – pasta, and Jeff? Jeff got to enjoy himself without any worries about his best friend losing his way, because anytime Eddie got a little stressed or in his head, all it took was one look at Steve and he was okay, and that was more than worth the crowded tour bus.)

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #rock star eddie munson #steddie fanfic #corroded coffin #august fanfic challenge

1K notes · View notes

red-bat-arse · 4 months

Text

I Got a Problem 🎸🎶🎻

AO3

Chapter One

Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, famous for bringing rock to new heights with his band Hellfire, listens to everything but Country. 'King' Steve Harrington, leading light of the new generation of traditional Country artists, has a few thoughts about that.

=<+>=

Eddie Munson did not normally find himself accused of being musically pigeonholed.

He'd played alongside punk bands in his early touring days, and grew up on jazz and the blues from his mum and uncle. His hits on the pop charts prompted a few collaborations with electronic and indie artists, and his sophomore album featured a few rappers who wanted to get experience with rock. Metal was his bread and butter, he had a soft spot for soulful folk ballads, and given his close friendship with Argyle he was more than familiar with reggae and funk and all varieties of stoner music.

Of course, you could probably guess that the exception to all that was the ever contentious genre of country. However that wouldn't be a problem, wouldn't even be on Eddie's radar, if not for the batshit insane decision Hopper made in a diner three blocks away from the studio the week prior.

Eddie scowled and shot Jeff another look when his vocalist snickered at his expense. On the other side of the room this party was happening in, he could see Steve Harrington talking with Dustin and laughing at whatever the kid was frantically gesturing about.

He was dressed in a embroidered beige western shirt with pearls on the long cuffs, blue jeans with a brown belt and a big copper buckle, and honest to god cowboy boots that matched the ensemble. His hair was styled high and his biceps strained the shirt sleeves a little, and when he turned on his heel to follow Dustin's pointer figure Eddie was briefly overcome with lust at the amazing ass in his direct line of sight.

"I don't care," he pronounced finally, twitching as Harrington spun back and ruffled Dustin's hair, grinning wide when the kid squawked in outrage. Jeff outright snorted and Eddie glared harder. "I think doing this before we move to a bigger space is stupid, but all power to the Chief if he thinks we can make it work."

"Don't care at all, got it," Gareth said, coming up beside him. "It's just business concerns. Like, our assets."

"See, why can't you be more like Gareth, Jeffery? He knows exactly what i'm talking about," Eddie slung an arm over Gareth's shoulders -and he must be in a good mood because he didn't duck away. "Business assets."

"More like his ass-et," Jeff muttered, and Eddie valiantly ignored him.

Five days ago Hopper walked into the studio's monthly brunch and introduced them all to one Joyce 'Mama' Byers -which, okay, even Eddie knew who she was -and dropped the bombshell that she signed on with them two days prior. Once the commotion died down she was the one who dropped the next one, informing them all that they'd soon be sharing close quarters with nine other artists from her former label, preeminent among them the one who convinced them all to walk out, that being Steve Harrington.

All ten of them were country artists. Prison Break Records hadn't put out any music that wasn't solely rock or metal in it's entire eight years of existence. To say there was a bit of culture shock going around was an understatement.

"Give them a chance, Ed," Grant passed by with a few cans of coke tucked into the crook of his arm and slapped him on the shoulder, making Eddie stumble. "Half of them are in the middle of doing the bar circuit right now, and it's not like we need the studio space anyway. It's all good."

Eddie huffed, trying not to let Grant's comment sting -he knew he didn't mean anything by it. But at nearly six months to the day, even though the guys would never rush him, maybe Eddie was getting a little bit worried about the future.

"I was talking with the Byers, apparently it's mainly gonna be Joyce and Harrington recording for the next month at least," Gareth piped up again, jabbing a thumb in the direction of country music's leading family -Argyle had somehow struck up a conversation with them and while the younger brother seemed confused, the elder was paying rapt attention to whatever their resident stoner was explaining. "Everyone else is taking a break or doing small shows or one off songs, like Grant said."

"Fine, fine, I get it," Eddie held up his hands in surrender. "But if they start blasting fucking honky-tonk bullshit-"

"Oh come on, Munson, don't tell me you're one of those."

Eddie paused, then slowly turned around, feeling his face heat up only partly in embarrassment to see Harrington standing just behind him, having apparently been abandoned by Dustin in the last few minutes. He had his hip cocked and a hand casually resting with the thumb hooked in his belt, and up close Eddie could see little moles scattered all over his face and neck like flecks of paint. Next to them, Jeff turned and coughed a laugh into his elbow, muffled.

"What, pray tell, are you talking about?" Eddie quashed the instinct to puff up for a fight. Just because Harrington was a good old jock with arms that could bench him didn't mean he had to have his back up, and he reasoned that this was his home turf here. He and Hopper may not always see eye to eye, but if Eddie asked he'd take his side in a heartbeat.

Harrington gave a funny little smirk, the kind you'd give to the family dog who was doing something cute but ultimately futile.

"You're the type who hates Trace Adkins but's never heard of David Allan Coe," he raised an eyebrow, then nodded to Jeff and Gareth, holding out a hand to shake with each of them. "Name's Steve. Good to meet you guys."

"Jeff," "Gareth," his bandmates parroted back, easy as breathing, while Eddie was still stuck on Harrington's little dig about the artists he was or wasn't aware of.

"You do most of the song work, don't you Munson?" he was asked, and Eddie belatedly realized he hadn't actually accepted Harrington's handshake. It was too late now, so he kind of awkwardly answered in the affirmative and watched that hand get pulled back and settled onto Harrington's other hip, so the man was standing almost like a judgy mother hen as he kept talking. "I've been kind of obsessed with Dark Sheep lately -especially the way you captured sexuality in 'Something On Your Tongue'; like how it's all about being confident, and whether it's a stranger at a club or working a job, the narrator's attracted to them in a way that's not gross to listen to. I mean, 'I love the way you dance with anybody' as a line is pretty refreshing when you think about it and... oh. Sorry," Harrington trailed off and turned a little pink, ducked his head. "Didn't mean to ramble on there."

Steve Harrington listened to Hellfire's music? Eddie blinked and the guy was still in front of him, looking earnest as a slice of apple pie or whatever the fuck, and he mentally shook himself. 'King' Steve Harrington listened to his music enough to have an opinion on it, on specific songs from their last record, and he came out the end of it liking his lyrics?

"Dude, get it together," Gareth whispered and elbowed him in the ribs, jolting him out of his fugue.

"Didn't think that was your thing, Harrington," Eddie ran his mouth with the first thought that came to mind, even if it was kind of dickish. "Sexual liberation ain't exactly very prayerful of you," he made the sign of the cross on that last part.

Far from what he expected, that got Harrington to bark out a big, surprised laugh. "Oh, c'mon," he rolled his eyes. "You can't seriously think I'm in with the god squad? They were most of why we left Tiger Studios in the end. Besides," Harrington flashed a charming smile, pearly whites matching the pearl buttons below on his shirt. "It'd be pretty hypocritical of me to preach against sexual lib, considering."

What the hell did that mean? Was it just his brain pulling tricks on him, or did Harrington's eyes flick up and down Eddie's body right then -and where the hell had Gareth and Jeff gone? They were supposed to be his buffer against his least favourite genre, not -ah, there they were -not chatting up the other members of Harrington's little ensemble across the room.

"Consider me told, then. You ain't godly whatsoever, I'll be sure not to disparage your sterling reputation again with that mistake, my liege, cross my heart," Maybe he was laying it on thick here, but there was something about Steve Harrington that got his pulse up; when the other man tilted his head with a baffled smile at Eddie's statement, he had to clench his fist hard so he didn't just -well, he wasn't actually sure. "But I think without the god talk that just makes you a hick, big boy, sexually liberated or otherwise. Is that better or worse?"

Maybe Harrington was just pissing him off with his... everything. His shit genre and his cocky attitude and the way he dressed to impress, it was cringey at best and edging on pretentious at worst. Eddie crossed his arms and scowled, annoyed with this damn situation of having to navigate a whole new set of people in the studio when he was already behind in his work and had no fucking clue how to fix-

"Hicks make some good music, Munson," Harrington said, sounding all kinds of condescending about it. "Especially these days, if you know where to look. Sounds to me like you're a little musically pigeonholed," Eddie went ramrod straight as Harrington threw that accusation in his face, and he felt his cheeks go hot in offense. Harrington smirked, noticing. "But hey, I'm always down to help out if you wanted to explore your options."

Musically. Pigeonholed. Musically pigeonholed!

"Fat chance of that, boots," Eddie swung his foot forward and knocked toes with Harrington, fancy brown tops against Eddie's scuffed workman's. "Sounds to me like the crown's too tight on your head after dropping contract. When you can write a song that's not about beer and trucks and girls, give me a shout, okay? Maybe I'll even give it a listen."

Steve's smirk turned a shade meaner, and he was probably going to say something really nasty -figures -when he got clapped on the back by a big man in a hawaiian shirt and with a thick beard, holding a martini of all things.

"Woah, kids, tone it down a notch. We're here to have a good time," the guy said, part patronizing and part stern -it was a weird combination. "Especially you, Discount Dio. Take it easy on the new guys or I'll ask Wayne to break out the baby photos, tout de suite."

Oh, so this was Murray. Wayne's mysterious drinking buddy who just so happened to be one of the artists who bailed along with Harrington. Eddie had no doubt he'd make good on the threat -not that he needed it, exactly. The interruption seemed to have taken the wind out of both his and Harrington's sails, if the way the guy looked embarrassed was any indication.

"Sorry, Murray," Harrington said, and Murray rolled his eyes.

"Just relax, kid. None of these guys are Hargrove, or even Carver Jr for that matter," he shook Harrington's shoulder a little, and shot Eddie an odd look. "Even the ones that growl and snap at you are just Chihuahuas. And you, puppy," he snapped his fingers in Eddie's face, making him flinch back in surprise. Also, offended -puppy? "I think you've got a hot head right now, so you should remember you know better than to shit on music you've never listened to. Don't you?"

Fuck, damn his big mouth. He felt his cheeks go tight with embarrassment, and he cut a look at Harrington. They were both close to thirty and yet here they were feeling like scolded children.

"Shouldn't have said that, Harrington. Sorry," he offered, ash in his throat. The guy looked surprised, but nodded, accepting, and Murray threw his hands up, sarcastically relieved.

"Thank god! Now come on, join the party," he hooked a hand around Eddie's neck and used his martini arm to bump Harrington forward.

The country boy looked at him one last time before seeming to shrug off their entire interaction, a fake expression of cheer getting plastered on after a flash of disappointment. Why he was disappointed was anybody's guess; maybe he'd thought Eddie would be more repentant in his apology.

Fat chance of that. Musically pigeonholed his ass.

Eddie sighed, flexing his hand, and readied himself to push through a few more hours of socializing. Internally he apologized to Hopper, too -a productive working relationship with the country club didn't seem like it was in the cards for him.

=<+>=

I keep a running list of songs referenced in the notes on AO3 -I don't do tag lists!

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #musician au #country star #rock star #fic #fanfic #st fanfic #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #hurt/comfort #cross posted on ao3

34 notes · View notes