#Eddie Munson fake marriage au
Text
Fake Husband Eddie Part 2: Meeting Someone?
Part 1: here
Part 3: here
Tag List: @alana4610 @fluentmoviequoter @alicentswife @vivalasv3gan @goth-cowgirl-03 @yujyujj @slowgabinaburninroom @zaddyskye69
TW: Cursing and drinking
A/N: Before you all come for me don’t worry there is a part 3 and it’s the final part of this little trilogy lol also idk why I added in Frank and the Hideout backstory it was just something that was sitting in the back of my mind and it fit. Anywayyyy enjoy!!✨
You smooth out the front of your shirt as you sit down on one of the worn out barstools at the back of the Hideout. It’s been exactly a week since you met Eddie and it only felt right that the two of you have your first official date at the bar you met at. Over the span of a week you two have gotten to know each other quite well, you learned that Eddie would much rather FaceTime you than text you because he likes to hear your voice, especially your laugh he loves how it sounds even through the phone. You also learned that he loves his job, he works at the garage in town and he’s always got his head under someone’s hood fixing a transmission or tinkering with a stubborn fuel line.
Eddie has learned things about you as well, he knows that you like to read before bed and he doesn’t know why but it shocked him a bit to learn the two of you have a few books in common on your bookshelves. He notices things like how you try to hide your face when you’re smiling and he just assumes that’s something you’ve always done but he’s made a mental note to try to remind you how pretty you are when you smile because it’s really one of his favorite things to see. You go on little rants about things that have bothered you during the day and he loves how passionate you get because your arms go everywhere and you also always end it with “you know what I mean?” and even if he has no clue he can’t help but smile and just nod and reassure you that yes he knows what you mean.
The two of you have grown close over the past several days and you’ve started to develop a rather large crush on the long haired metal head. Luckily for you though Eddie made his feelings known the night he drove you home from the hideout.
“You know what?” You turn your head and look at Eddie who’s smiling at you as he watches you reach for the handle of the passenger side door of his van.
“What?” Eddie leans over his middle console so he can tuck a few stay hairs behind your ear making you blush as you feel his hand brush against your cheek.
“I think I like you.” You raise an eyebrow at him as you playfully glare at him making him laugh.
“You think?” You tease as Eddie reaches for your hand that has his skull ring on it, you smile as you watch him twirl it around your finger since it’s a little too big for you but you like how it feels so you haven’t taken it off.
“Sorry sweetheart.” He looks up at you as you find yourself leaning into him. “I know I like you.” He adds right before he places a kiss to your lips making you smile as he pulls away.
The sound of a glass being set down in front of you jolts you out of your daydream as you blink a few times before looking around to see if Eddie has shown up yet. You look at your phone and see it’s only ten minutes past six, the time you both agreed to meet so you just brush it off to him being a little late and look up to see the bartender cleaning a few glasses in front of you.
“What can I get ya?” Frank the bartender and half owner of the Hideout asks as he gives you a smile. “I make a mean martini.” He jokes as he shoots you a playful wink making you laugh.
“Uh I’ll just have a vodka tonic please.” He nods and starts making your drink. “Have you worked here a while?” You ask trying to make small talk to help the time pass before Eddie shows up and this is only the second time you’ve ever been here so might as well get to know the bartenders.
“You could say that.” Frank answers as he slides your drink in front of you. “I’m Frank and I may not look it but I’m one of the Hideout's original customers.” You just nod your head encouraging him to continue as you take a sip of your drink, Frank is an older gentleman with long gray hair he has tucked into a low pony on the back of his neck and a few tattoos scattered around his forearms that are only visible because he has his flannel rolled up to his elbows. “I helped them name this place because we used to meet here back in the day when it wasn’t actually a bar, to hideout from people we didn’t want to see or nagging wives we were avoiding so when they wanted to turn it into a bar I said why not just call it the Hideout?” Frank explained and you couldn’t help but giggle at the mention of avoiding nagging wives.
“It’s a great name.” You watch him smile as he looks around the bar to see if anyone needs anything.
“Meeting someone?” Frank asks as he glances down at the giant skull ring on your ring finger.
“Uh yeah.” You’re not sure how to answer his question so you just go with your gut. “My husband actually.” Frank just smiles and nods as he goes back to cleaning glasses as you slowly sip on your drink as you anxiously look at your phone again and let out a sigh when you see it’s now six thirty.
Eddie is elbows deep in a minivan’s engine that is just refusing to let him get his fingers in the correct place to install a new part. He lets out a frustrated groan as he takes a step back from the van and places his grease covered hands on his hips and closes his eyes and looks up towards the ceiling of the garage. He wonders for a moment what you’re going to wear on your date with him tonight, he’s had tonight circled on his calendar all week and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he even added little hearts to it and everything.
“Why do all minivans have to be so damn stubborn?” He mumbles as he opens his eyes and takes a step closer to the van. “I’m just trying to help you.” He explains as he uses his wrist to wipe some sweat off his brow, as he drops it back down to his side he feels his whole world begin to move in slow motion when he catches the time on his watch. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.” He drops the wrench in his left hand and heads for the break room of the garage.
“Eddie?” Greg the parts guy asks as Eddie rushes past him so he can grab his stuff from his locker.
“I’m late!” Eddie shouts over his shoulder as he heads for the door. He quickly jumps into his van and starts the engine as he digs around in his bag for his phone. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” He groans when he sees his phone is on 10% battery because he forgot to put it on the charger after falling asleep on FaceTime with you last night. He looks at the clock and silently prays to whoever it is that might be listening to let you still be waiting for him even though it’s well after eight at night and he was supposed to meet you at six.
“Shit shit.” He presses your name in his phone and it rings once before his whole screen goes black meaning his phone is dead. “Fuck!” Eddie feels like his heart is in his stomach as he pulls out of the parking lot of his work and heads straight for the Hideout.
He doesn’t look for your car in the bar’s parking lot because he knows you planned to get dropped off so he could just take you home. He not so gently snatches his keys from the ignition after putting it in park and slams his door closed as he exits the van. He ignores the looks he’s getting form the men outside smoking as he rushes into the bar, he’s sure he looks like he’s lost with his work overalls on tied around his waist and his hair in a messy bun and grease stains everywhere. Frank turns when he hears the door open and he raises an eyebrow at Eddie when he lets out a sigh at all the empty seats in the back of the bar, exactly where you told him you’d be so he could meet you.
“Looking for your wife?” Eddie looks at the bartender and nods his head because you’d been jokingly calling yourself his wife all week so of course you’d tell the bartender you were waiting for your husband. Frank tosses something at Eddie and when he catches it and sees what it is he feels his heart break a bit. “Left about an hour ago.” He adds as Eddie stares at the skull ring that’s sitting in the palm of his hand.
“Oh no.” And with that Eddie turns on his heels and runs straight back out to the parking lot towards his van because no way is he letting him being an idiot be the reason you two end things.
#Eddie Munson fake marriage au#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson au#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#Eddie Munson#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things au#my little dungeon master baby#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson concept#fake marriage au
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
I Will Wait
a soulmate!fakemarriage!au with rockstar!eddie and personalassistant!reader (also featuring ronance)
cowritten by @abibliophobiaa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, and @fracturedarkness
18+ only for mature themes and eventual sexual content. fem!reader
one (9.9k) | next | masterlist | AO3 | 🎵 shmackin' tunes
in this universe, there is no upside down, the year is 1995, and corroded coffin = nine inch nails. if you didn't check out the prequel publications (hot off the press on our series masterlist), make sure you do, since they provide important backstory for the IWW universe! read them carefully; there are secrets. 😉
Your mind is a buzzing whirl, just like that of the streets of New York City below, visible through the thick glass of your apartment window. Below, where you can hear the blare of honking horns, can see people loitering on the side of the road, hands waving high in an attempt to hail one of the taxis rushing past. You watch as people dart across busy intersections, dodging oncoming cars, scattering like ants across criss-crossed streets that teem with activity even in the dead of night.
It’s a constant, a comfort, something you can cling to as anticipation bubbles and wells in your gut.
Outside, the sun is beginning its slow descent; glowing bright skies begin to deepen into a powdery orange, hinting at a day starting to close. Your fingers press against the window, a mental note already forming to clean it once you step away, eyes peering out into the bustling city streets. You work your way down the mental list once more: dishes washed, already set aside in the drying rack; laundry ironed and folded, pressed neatly into your drawers in categorical order; counters wiped down, shades dusted, furniture polished; dishwasher emptied, cups, plates, bowls and utensils placed in proper cabinets; AOL inbox checked, your confirmation for the time you would be meeting your new boss responded to, while the rest of the emails were placed into proper folders or deleted completely.
You’ve already changed your outfit three times. Laid multiple options out on your bed and ironed them all. You had held them to your body in the reflection of your bedroom mirror and tossed them into a heap at the foot of your bed. This wasn’t just any day, after all. The importance isn’t lost on you. This isn’t like any of your temp jobs that came before it. This is the first you’ll be working alongside someone with undeniable notoriety in the music space.
A celebrity, really.
“I can see your mind working, you know?” Angela, your roommate, glances up from where she sits at your kitchen island. There’s a magazine in front of her with some likely-falsified article about the newest Hollywood “IT” couple on display, dressed to the nines with glowing, airbrushed features. Her nails tap along the countertop, stark red against pale cream, as she arches a brow in your direction.
You’re already walking into the kitchen to join her, skirt sliding against your tight-clad thighs as you reach down beneath the sink to grab a bottle of windex, sights set on the fingerprints on your floor-to-ceiling windows. She twists in the chair while you rustle about, ignoring her as you grasp paper towels from the rack.
“This is a good thing,” she says, sighing with an exasperated shake of the head. Your reflection obscures for a brief moment, replaced by blue spray, before you wipe your lingering prints away. “You’ve wanted to travel for so long. You know, see the world and all of that. This is your opportunity to do it. And shit, it beats working for that asshat you used to deal with. What was his name again?”
You slip back into the kitchen to throw the towel away, heels clacking against tile. “Carver,” you reply, just as the lid to the garbage falls closed. You lean back against the countertop, smoothing your sweaty palms along the sides of your skirt. “Pretty sure anyone would be better than him. I still can’t believe that Mr. Harrington came to the office looking to mitigate all that tension between Mr. Munson and Jason by trying to partner up Carver Distilleries and Corroded Coffin for a commercial, and Jason went and ruined it by running his mouth. I wish you could have seen it, Ange. Mr. Harrington was so disgusted with how he behaved, he extinguished the deal completely right there in his office.”
“Exactly, because even he knows that man is vile,” she sighs with a pout, her form slipping down from off of one of your shoddy barstools, curly blonde hair swaying around her shoulders as she walks. You snort when her hands curl around your forearms, shaking you lightly. “What did your new boss say? Something about you being more than equipped to handle this position? Didn’t he, oh I don’t know, request you specifically for his client? You’re going to be fine; in fact, you’re going to be wonderful. If there’s anyone in this world who can handle the notorious Eddie Munson, I think it’s you.”
With a newly restored confidence, you set to the bustling streets of Manhattan, sights poised on the recording studio address you were given. You thought your first day might start with something akin to an office introduction. Something, at the very least, a little less imposing than this. But you double checked your email from Mr. Harrington before you left and printed the directions that now sat clutched tight within your hands.
The building that stands before you at the end of your trek looms arresting and proud in the midst of the bodies swarming around you. Your eyes lift hesitantly to the glass door, your mirrored reflection leaping back at you. Angela’s words ring true in your ears; you are more than adequately equipped. You wouldn’t be invited here if it were not fate itself beckoning at your door. With a resigned exhale, your fingers twine around the cool, metal handle and step inside.
Schmackin’ Records is a world unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. From the moment your feet hit the mat at the front door, company logo etched into it, you know you’re no longer sitting at the front desk of Carver Distilleries. Your head tilts upward to the records dangling from the ceiling, then lower to the endless sprawling walls littered with posters boasting of accolades achieved by the success of the artists that have roamed these halls. You’re struck with the realization that you’re standing in the shadows of legends that have also trailed this path before you.
This— this place and this moment, are your current reality.
“You wouldn’t happen to be the new assistant, would you?” The woman at the front desk catches your attention. Your head whirls, fingers slipping from where they rest along a glass case affixed to the wall, proclaiming a recently obtained platinum record. Her face softens at your visible nervousness. “Sorry to scare you, dear.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine! I’m… ah, I’m actually here to meet with Mr. Steve Harrington. He gave me this address….” You hold aloft the directions in your hand, heart dancing in your chest as your heeled shoes propel you over to where she sits behind a glass panel. The woman before you glimpses down at your directions printed from MapQuest with a pitying grin, her head bobbing before her fingers clack away on her keyboard.
“That’s right! Hold on one moment, sweetie.” You open your mouth to speak as she lifts a phone from its receiver and dials a number quickly. You can faintly hear a voice on the other end. “Mr. Harrington? Yes, this is Joyce speaking. Mr. Munson’s new assistant is here looking for you… okay— yes, that’s fine. Thank you, yes— I’ll let her know. Goodbye.”
Your legs plant beneath you firmly, shoulders ramrod straight, head tilted up in anticipation of your new role. Joyce only resumes in her typing, head tilted down toward her computer screen, leaving you to simmer alone in the tense silence.
“Mr. Harrington will meet you on floor five. Just take that elevator down this hall on your left,” she says, head lifting abruptly from her work.
“Thank you!”
Somehow, the directions only bring you more nervousness. The knowledge that all that stands before you and your new role is five floors. A short elevator ride. Merely a few moments in time remain stretched between you and the catapult into a lifestyle you’ve only seen on television prior to this opportunity.
Your shoes clack against the laminate flooring, a foreboding tap tap tap as you shuffle your way down the short hallway and press the call button for your elevator. The doors open with a soft ping, heart ricocheting against your ribcage as you step inside and the silver metal closes behind you. Hesitant fingers raise to press the number five, the circle bursting to life and illuminating your selection. You step into the center of the room, hands clasped at your side, eyes ahead of you on your distorted reflection upon the surface.
You settled on a simple outfit for the day. Something pristine and professional. A thin black long-sleeved shirt, pale gray tweed skirt, black tights, and dark heels. Simple and understated, though still maintaining your own preferences for stylistic choices. Those same clothes cling to you now. Your tights suddenly seem too tight, heels increasingly pinchy around the back of your heel, skirt prickly and coarse against your thighs, the neck of your sweater digging into your throat. You’re parched, though you doubt any amount of water would assist you now.
The door opens to reveal sprawling wooden walls, as well as the figure of Steve Harrington standing before you in a pair of slacks and a simple button up. He looks exceedingly kind just as he did the first time you met him. Dark, depthless eyes with a wide grin spread across finely hewn features. His fingers card through his hair as you step out to greet him, hand coming to extend before you at the ready.
“You’re here! Oh, thank god.” He shakes your hand briefly and nudges you toward the opening of a hallway, those endless panels of wooden walls surrounding you on either side. The voice that spills from him in a rush is a frantic murmur of, “I’m sorry to have contacted you on such notice. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble—”
“Oh, not at all, Mr. Harrington,” you interrupt, swallowing thickly as he pauses in stride. “Sorry.”
“No, no. Please, call me Steve. Mr. Harrington is what people call my father,” he says, smiling softly. There’s a comfort in his gaze, a warmth that oozes from him. The tightness in your chest loosens, a deep breath pouring out. “We’ve… well, his last assistant quit abruptly, you see, and therefore we were obviously left with no notice. So when you said you could start as soon as possible, it was almost a godsend.”
Your hands grip tighter to the band of your pocketbook draped over your shoulder, leather still cool from the afternoon air. “I’m here for whatever you need, Mr. Ha— Steve.”
The hallway leads to a door, dark and imposing, with a wide silver handle. His fingers curl around it and hesitate, head turning over his shoulder to gauge your expression. The worrying of your lip pauses, teeth releasing from their tense position against your skin. Your mouth quirks upward into a hopeful smile, willing those nerves bubbling to subside.
“What exactly have you heard about Eddie Munson?” he asks you.
You know he’s not expecting a true answer. Not really. You’ve done minimal research. A quick Yahoo search brings up more articles than you know what to do with in reference to the infamous Eddie Munson. Most of which had brought you to pages detailing his altercation at the Grammy Awards in 1994 and the numerous escapades he’s gotten himself into in the course of his still newly established stardom, as well as his whirlwind romance with his wife.
“Not much,” you admit, and while it is the truth, Steve seems to deflate a bit.
His shoulders drop, hand coming to run through that full head of dark hair on him once more. That easy demeanor shifts, mouth turning southward. “Eddie is… he means well. He’s just— well, he’s gone through a few assistants in the past few months, as you know. In the few years I’ve known him, I can tell you with certainty he is dedicated to his craft, but he tends to veer into the wilder aspects of life. What he needs right now is someone who can handle him, and I truly believe that person is you.”
You feel your stomach drop. Initially, when Steve had offered you the position, he boasted of a fast-paced role that required adaptability. Your previous job had been nothing but back to back phone calls, fielding all the incoming clients and their questions, managing the schedules of your manager, and ensuring all issues were handled accordingly.
Babysitting a rockstar hadn’t exactly been on your agenda; yet even despite all of that, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity and had accepted the job offer.
“And the others?” you question, hand coming to rub along your bicep.
“I wouldn’t worry about it so much,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “You handled Carver. Eddie should be a breeze.”
Carver Distilleries was not your ideal job, but it was the job you acquired shortly after a brief stint as an administrative assistant for a local community college. The company touted a prolific background of over thirty years in business and you jumped at the prospect. It had been straightforward enough most days. The phones rang around the clock and you handled the calls as expected, passed them off to their proper channels, and made sure the son of the CEO was happy at all times.
Jason Carver was, to put it lightly, the devil’s incarnate. Most days you wondered if he’d been placed in this life for the sole purpose of bringing suffering to all those around him, with a pitchfork in one hand and tail swishing behind him as he stomped through the halls of the building.
You couldn’t recall off the top of your head a day wherein he had ever been happy. Shockingly so for someone born from wealth and thrusted into the limelight, silver spoon in mouth at birth. Jason was proof that money hardly ever solved all problems.
He reigned as the crowned Prince of the company, his father’s shining star, who never raised his finger to do anything. For years, he rode on the back of his father’s coattails and treated those around them like they were beneath him, nose always upturned, sneer firmly planted on his face.
That evening you were already overwhelmed. There was an issue down in the marketing department regarding a mixup in schedules, leaving the Carver’s seated next to a family they didn’t particularly have positive dealings with at an upcoming gala. To add to the rising tension, Jason sent you on an errand to retrieve his requested cappuccino. Light foam, two sugars, extra hot. When you’d returned, he was still in a meeting with some of his fathers business executives, hidden behind a glass door. You left the cup for him there, as requested of you, and rushed back to the front desk just as Mr. Steve Harrington walked into the building.
He’d come in looking like any other businessman you’d seen grace the building in the past. Perfectly tailored suit and tie, briefcase in hand, hair coiffed neatly atop his head. Steve Harrington, though young, harnessed a professionalism about him that Jason Carver lacked. There were no sneers aimed your way as he approached the desk and greeted you pleasantly, nor did he scoff at the hand you’d extended in greeting, welcoming him with a soft thanks.
“Mr. Carver is just finishing up another meeting and will be out to retrieve you,” you advise him, walking out from behind your desk. “Would you like coffee, water… tea?”
“I’m okay, thank you,” he says, holding his briefcase tighter within his palm as he made his way over to the small couch positioned across from you, nestled beside a potted plant. You retreated back to your desk as he pulled a phone from his pocket, voice rising just enough to ask, “Do you happen to have—”
“What is this?!” Jason’s voice boomed from down the hall.
A loud thump echoed from his office, likely from something he’d tossed off his desk in frustration, and you knew well enough to duck behind the covering of your work space. You frantically thumbed the spacebar on your computer to bring it back to life, assuring everyone in your vicinity that you appeared occupied as a shock of blonde hair filled your peripheral. He’d bursted into the room with the dejected coffee in hand, hair strewn about messily atop, eyes narrowed in heedless anger.
Your eyes flickered to the cup, then settled back on the opened email on your desktop computer. The subject line held a request for a flower arrangement you were set to purchase for Jason’s wife, Chrissy, because he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself.
You let out a soft sigh and explained, “It’s the coffee you asked for.”
His nostrils flared like a bull, the embers burning behind his eyes glowing brighter. “I know it’s the coffee I asked for. I don't pay you to answer me with that sarcastic bullshit—”
“Mr. Carver—” The rise of your voice caught you both off guard, only further angering him.
His eyes narrowed, brows knitted tight across the middle of his forehead, vein pulsing against taut skin growing redder by the second. “I asked for a cappuccino with light foam, two sugars, and asked that you make sure it’s extra hot. This isn’t extra hot. This isn’t even warm. It’s cold.”
“Yes, Mr. Carver. It was hot when I left it on your desk two hours ago. Would you like me to go and get you another one?” You try your best to retain a neutral tone. You’re aware of Steve’s eyes trailing along both your forms, interrupted from his own work by your increasingly heated argument.
He barked out an incredulous laugh, head shaking. “No, I don't want you to get me another coffee. You should have known my meeting would run long and planned accordingly. I don’t know where you get the nerve to talk to me like you are when you seem to have forgotten you are no more than a rece—”
“Mr. Carver.” You both paused at the finality of your tone, throat filled with the bitter taste of the degradation he attempted to throw your way. “Your two thirty meeting for the Tennessee Maple Whiskey commercial is here.”
He clicked his tongue, shooting a glower your way. You already anticipated a meeting in his office later wherein he reminded you of all the reasons why your behavior was unacceptable and why you were lucky to still have a position at Carver Distilleries.
“Fine. Mr. Harrington, give me one moment and I will call you back into my office. I just need to finish running something by my father. As for you—” His eyes darted back to your form. “—I will deal with you later.”
You exhaled a heavy sigh of relief as the blonde haired man sauntered back down the hall, leaving you to the comfort of your generally quiet front desk. Steve still lingered there, one hand curled around his phone, the other lifting the briefcase he held off his lap to set it in the seat beside him. You watched as he rose to his feet and dropped his phone within his pocket, gliding over to your desk with a small white card in hand.
You didn’t need to read the words there to know what he’d slid across your desk. It was an instantaneous understanding, the knowledge of a new opportunity, of a way out from beneath the weight of the man who wanted nothing more than to rule with an iron fist and remind others that they were all beneath him.
He glanced briefly down the hall to ensure no one was listening and leveled his gaze with yours, voice a quieted whisper as he said, “You work well under pressure. Carver is… well, Carver’s an ass. I can offer you more money, if you happen to be looking for another job. You could travel the world working for me instead of sitting behind this desk. Let me know.”
Standing before Steve, you feel the questions swirling of the validity of the hope he’d placed inside of you. Had it been premature? He’d only seen one encounter between your prior manager and yourself. That was hardly enough to base a whole career off of, and yet his fingers tighten around the door handle all the same, ready to pull it forward and open you up to a world of newness beckoning you.
Your sweaty palms slide down the sides of your tweed skirt, fabric rustling about your thighs as you step nearer to the door, hardening your resolve.
It’s now or never, you suppose.
“Remember,” Steve warns, just as you move to step inside the recording studio. “He means well. I should also warn that he can tend to be a little… flirtatious. But I would try and pay it no mind. You’re going to be great.”
The room inside is grandiose. Roof to floor wooden paneling shrouds everything in a honey warmth. There are a couple of couches near the far wall, one of which seemingly occupied, and a coffee table that sits in front of it. You catch the slow glug of a water dispenser in the distance, nearest to a coffee station in preparation of the long night that lies ahead of you all. To your right is an open closet, then further still a bathroom. The room itself is dim, lights adjusted for a cozier feel. Intimate and fitting for the tracks that are to be laid today.
The same room, previously full of echoing laughter and vibrant conversation, fizzles into deafening silence as Steve leads you into the room, calling out, “Guys, there’s someone I'd like you to meet!” The announcement has every eye in the room darting your way, faces drawn tight to get a sight of the newest visitor. Only you’re not a visitor, because one of these men is about to be your new client. Steve turns to you then, hand lightly brushing your shoulder to nudge you forward as he says, “This right here is the new assistant, Y/N.”
A round of introductory greetings reach your ears, your voice full of certainty as you return them. “It’s great to finally meet you all.” However, you’ve yet to capture the elusive image of your client, as two of the band members stand closely together, obscuring him from your direct field of view.
Steve continues, “This is Gareth Parsons, drummer of Corroded Coffin.”
The first of the group steps forward. His shaggy head of brown hair flops as he moves, reaching forward with an extended hand in greeting. The warmth of his palm fills the space within your own, squeezing lightly. You feel a little bit of that boiling tension dissipate, the weight on your chest at the notion of a room full of new people unintentionally judging you lightening.
His voice is kind, edged with humor as he says teasingly, “Nice to finally meet Eddie’s new babysitter.”
The next band member makes himself known. He has dark skin, dark hair and lovely brown eyes, full of a kindness that has your mind easing further. Those same comforting eyes flash quickly to his bandmate, a stern flicker of his warm gaze resting on Gareth’s, the latter of the two huffing from his nose.
“Behave,” Jeff warns, voice a low murmur that has Gareth resigning to his defeat. That warm hand releases from your own and he steps back enough into the fold of the remaining members to allow Jeff to step forward. “The name’s Jeff. I’m on rhythm guitar and synth. It’s so nice to meet you.” He flashes you a white smile, and you can’t help the grin that blooms across your features at his easy acceptance of your presence.
“Thank you,” you say, truly grateful that the first two introductions have thus far proceeded smoothly. “Both of you.”
Seemingly pleased with how things are processing, Steve clears his throat. “So that’s Jeff, who you’ve now met. And then you’ve got Harry, who would be the bassist of Corroded Coffin.”
Harry steps forward, his hulking frame shadowing your own, to shake your hand. You lock your hand within his and he opens his mouth to work over the words he’s going to say when a voice cuts through the silence.
“The name is Harry Cox. And if you’re nice to him, maybe he’ll show it to you.”
“Eddie, fuckin’ really?” Jeff asks brusquely, whirling around in the Eddie Munson’s direction.
You’re not sure what to expect as the men shift and separate, bodies moving one by one to reveal the figure that’s so far remained hidden from your view. In theory, you’ve seen pictures of him. One would have to be living under a rock to not have come across a photograph of Eddie Munson somewhere. The infamous photo of the men standing around you, dated back to when they were teenagers, boyish frames huddled together in the halls of their high school before they had skyrocketed to fame at a trajectory no one ever anticipated; the clippings from not so flattering headlines showing his swift rise and downfall, leaving him on thin ice; the photos documenting his hasty nuptials to his actress wife. However, none of those compare to the intimidating figure that commands the presence of everyone around him as your hesitant eyes clash with his beneath the dark shroud of his sunglasses.
Your eyes settle on the dark swath of ripped jeans over coltish limbs. Black material stretches tight over sinewy muscle, thighs splayed out in front of him, scuffed Doc Martens thrown carelessly against the cherry wood of the coffee table. Your eyes start the slow crawl upward, tracking along black shirt stretched over his broad chest, with an equally dark leather jacket hugging his biceps. His arms rest over the top of the couch, a confident sprawl of elongated limbs against plush cushions. His face is almost feline, predatory and intimidating, most of the upper portion of his face obscured by those aviator sunglasses. The parts you can see are striking: lengthy, wavy hair that falls to his shoulders, soft and feathery against the leather jacket; those long fingers adorned with silver rings pushed flush against knuckles, broad hands covered in intricate tattoos; the pale skin over high cheekbones, an indent on his cheek that hints at a dimple if he weren't looking your way in disdain; full lips, soft nose, and the slightest hint of shadow along his jaw.
The Eddie Munson portrayed in the tabloids Angela had showed you over the years pales in comparison to the man that sits before you. This man oozes presence— owns this sort of magnetism that pulls the attention onto him in the center of the room with the mere sound of his voice.
“And that would be Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist for Corroded Coffin,” Steve explains, the arresting presence of the man sitting on the couch in front of you rooting you in place.
Gareth coughs out a quiet, “Resident douche.”
Jeff shoots him another scathing look. It’s enough of a distraction to draw your attention away from your new client, uneasy laughter welling up from you. Your stare drifts momentarily to Steve, his warm smile easing your tension, hand unfurling in front of him. The gesture has you faltering, understanding his intent is for you to make a proper introduction.
You shuffle your way toward the man, disregarding the way he barely even acknowledges your presence within the room. He’s not once moved, back pressing further into the curve of couch cushions, eyes peering up over at you through the top of his sunglasses. Dark and depthless, an endless swirl of ink, devoid of any emotion that might give you insight into how he thinks this initial meeting is going. You hear it then in the vestiges of your mind. A soft howl, nearly imperceptible—the whisper of wind in the distance, echoing in your ears. A warning, an insinuation of something to come. Still, your hand stretches into the spaces between you, left to linger in the open air.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Munson.” Your voice remains firm— unwavering, despite the fact that he dismisses your hand.
Jeff scoffs from beside you, head shaking slightly as his foot comes to shove Eddie’s off of where they rest against the wooden surface. They hit the ground with a dull thud, though Eddie’s posture remains lax, facade unwavering. “She’s talking to you.”
Eddie remains silent for a time, those dark eyes sliding up over the top of his sunglasses, voice hollow as he mutters, “You can call me ‘Sir.’” It’s innocent enough until the corners of his lips tug into a salacious smirk, fingers moving to push his sunglasses further up onto the bridge of his nose, head tipping upward a bit so he’s now level with your unrelenting stare. You worked with Jason long enough to understand this game, the ploy to see if you’ll break at the first sight of tension, and you’re not falling into that trap now.
You take a step closer, hand hovering in air untouched, voice unyielding. “I’ll call you Mr. Munson, or Eddie. Take your pick.”
Gareth chuckles at your left, but your eyes remain focused on Eddie in your battle of stares. Him, veiled through darkened lenses, and you in your refusal to grant him the satisfaction of looking away for even one moment and admitting defeat. You hear that soft howling again, a quiet whir in your ears, just as Steve claps his hands and a new man enters from the recording room, voice slicing the strained silence. “This right here is Argyle. He’s the producer and sound engineer working on this project. Today, the guys will be laying down the tracks for their latest album, so you’ll be here to take care of anything Eddie might need in the interim.”
Your head turns, breath catching at the unexpected arms that loop around your shoulder, fingers reaching up to press against the hawaiian print on his shirt, those long strands of his dark hair smooth beneath your fingertips. He steps back to take you in, head bobbing animatedly as he says, “Nice to meet you, my dude—dudette. I’m the king of this music castle here. Can’t say I’ll be of much assistance, but if you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.” His greeting concluded, Argyle meanders back over to his seat again, contentedly rocking the swivel chair back and forth with his feet.
There’s a sudden creak of leather that draws your attention; Steve runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the waves as his gaze darts from you to Eddie, who’s now rising from the couch. Eddie cracks his neck to the side, finally pulling off the aviators and dropping them haphazardly to the coffee table, where they skitter before meeting the magazine stack beside you. You push the top one back into place with the tip of your finger.
“Call me if you need me,” your boss says, one broad hand landing on Argyle’s shoulder, crinkling the Hawaiian print. “Good luck,” he mutters, patting him twice before moving toward the studio door.
You aren’t sure who Steve had been wishing luck to, but since his parting words don’t seem to phase the producer, you figure they must have been meant for you.
The heavy door thumps closed after him, echoing through the silent room. You can feel almost everyone's eyes on you— the outlier, the new variable in this equation, the only one here who doesn't have a pre-existing role in the narrative. As your gaze darts from one man to another in the span of that brief silence, you see a variety of expressions: curiosity, pleasantness, neutrality. But only one expression truly matters, and of course, unfortunately, it’s the expression of the only man whose gaze is averted as if reluctant to acknowledge you.
You take a moment to study your client now that you can clearly see his face, and what you see does not fill you with confidence. Eddie Munson's eyes are large and brown and framed by long, soft lashes, but there is only hardness in his dark stare. The crinkled lines at their corners would be charming, but they're wrinkled in a critical squint, not with a smile. Instead, though his lips are plush and pink, they're twisted in a faint sneer as he gazes at the plexiglass of the recording room, decidedly away from you.
He means well, Steve had said. But you can't help but think that this man doesn't look like he means anything but ill will towards you, his new assistant. Despite the welcome from others around you, it's making those new-job jitters deepen.
In the middle of your examination, those dark eyes—very suddenly and unexpectedly— flick to yours.
It's an impact you couldn't have braced for. Instantly, a rush of prickling heat crawls up your spine as if Eddie is looking through you, past skin and bone and muscle, straight to your very center. It’s a look that pins you down, flays you open, leaving you entirely exposed in its disapproval.
Blessedly, because of the time you'd worked with Jason Carver, you have perfected your customer service poker face. There is no outward appearance of your inward reaction, aside from the dampening of your palms; smoothly, you run them down textured tweed in the guise of fixing wrinkles before clearing your throat lightly.
It does the trick. The room, which had been suspended in silence following Steve's departure, suddenly stirs as Argyle spins in the chair to face you all fully, folding his hands over his belly. “Well, all right, brochachos,” he says, nodding slowly, his long curtain of black hair swaying as he does. “You ready to record some shit?”
"Fuck yeah, dude," Gareth answers immediately, pushing up from his knees, an enthusiastic smirk splitting his face as he leads the way to the recording room. Harry follows next, his hulking form shuffling from behind the coffee table. He pauses before reaching you as if he's afraid to enter your space; you shift quickly, moving closer to the coffee table to make more room as he fits himself around you.
"'Scuse me," he mumbles, and the gentle baritone of his voice coupled with the tiny tinge of pink on his cheeks makes you smile.
"No, I'm sorry," you're quick to assure him, "I was in the way."
He smiles shyly back as he passes by you, pausing by the recording room door to let Jeff enter first.
Distracted as you were by the exchange, you’re hit with a tiny spike of panic when you realize Eddie has begun to follow them, seemingly with no intention to address you again. It would leave you adrift with no direction— no inkling at all of what you can do to assist him, especially as Argyle already said he won't be much help— and that makes you act hastily. Impulsively.
Your body tilts forward, jerking after him, and your hand flutters out of its own accord, stopping just shy from making contact with his jacketed elbow. Eddie stops abruptly as his eyes dart to you; he squints as his gaze flicks down to your outstretched fingers. Your cheeks heat as you feel almost chastised, but you don’t let your embarrassment show. Instead, you let your hand drop, looking evenly into his dark brown eyes as you ask, “How can I best assist you right now, Mr. Munson? Is there anything in particular you'd like me to do?”
His stare sharpens, plush lips curving in the whisper of a smirk. “You a fan, sweetheart?” He asks, voice gritty with smoke and a quiet smugness as if he already knows the answer.
You keep Steve’s words in your mind, his warning about Eddie’s potential flirtatiousness. The shift— from thinly-veiled disdain to this— is jarring, but you figure it's probably meant to throw you off. “Of you or of Corroded Coffin?” you ask, expression carefully schooled to neutrality. Eddie's smirk tightens at the corners, grows a little more defined, but you continue before he can respond. “If I’m honest,” you tell him, “I’m not really well-acquainted with your music.”
His brows jerk, and when his eyes scan down your body before returning to yours, they’re narrowed again. “Let me guess. You’re a TLC girl? A little Backstreet Boys groupie?”
There’s a heavy shade of judgment in his voice that tells you he isn’t really interested in learning the answer, only in confirming for himself that your musical taste leaves much to be desired. You can't deny that the implication rankles you. You bristle at the thought that he presumes to know you when you've only just met, that he considers you lacking before you've given any reason for him to. The injustice of it makes you rush hot again, but not with nerves— with irritation.
Still, you maintain that mask of professionalism. You don’t let it show. “No,” you reply evenly, meeting his gaze dead-on, unhesitant and unashamed to share your preferences. “More like Smashing Pumpkins. Hole, too.” You ignore how his expression suddenly glints with salaciousness. “Though I do also appreciate harder stuff. Like Alice in Chains, for example,” you add, following it up with a small, polite smile. And it's true— you do appreciate some metal, despite it not being your go-to. It's not as though you don't like Corroded Coffin's music on principle.
But this answer doesn’t seem to excite him. Instead, Eddie’s sharp gaze dulls slightly as you refuse to play into his game. “Right,” he says, expression easing for the first time. “Well then, I do have something you can do for me, sweetheart.”
Pet name aside, it's the most pleasant he's sounded so far, and you brighten, having expected him to put up more resistance. Maybe all you needed to do was show that you were truly here to help him.
"Okay," you say, face expectant as you await his instruction.
Eddie’s lips twitch up into a tiny, crooked smile. “You see that door over there?” He flicks his finger lazily toward one of two narrow doors on the far wall, set into the wood paneling. You nod obediently, and he leans in, eyes wide and brows tugged up, pitching his voice low and soft like he’s coaching you through something secretive. “Well, inside, there’s a box. A box of all our recordings. Yeah?”
He waits until you nod again, a little more hesitantly this time. “What you can do for me is go in that box and listen to everything inside. Every album, every EP, every demo. Even the shitty garage recordings. Even the b-sides.” He pauses, tipping his chin down. And though he doesn't raise his voice, its softness sharpens to granite. “Because I’ll be goddamned if my personal assistant doesn’t even know my music.”
Your face was too eager for him not to notice the way it falls, and Eddie straightens, putting distance between you as he stuffs his hands in his back pockets, elbows jutting in satisfaction. That ghost of a smirk returns as he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, raising his chin and leveling you with one last look through his long, feathered lashes before he turns away.
His clear dismissal sinks into your chest, and you huff lightly through your nose, rushing with disappointment. Almost as if he can sense the crack in you, he whips back around abruptly; it startles you, and your spine straightens as you jerk to attention. “When we’re done recording, there’ll be a quiz,” he says, and the sharp smile on his face becomes a threat.
You can't help it— a bit of nervousness leaks through your expression then. That seems to finally please him, and Eddie releases you from his dark gaze as he, at last, joins his bandmates in the recording room. The sound of instruments tuning surges before the glass door thumps closed behind him, muffling to silence again.
Now left alone with your task assigned, you turn toward Argyle a little helplessly. He’s gazing at you with an absent smile on his face, still in the same position with his hands folded on his belly, seeming entirely unphased by the contentiousness of your new client. You exhale a quick breath, using it as a reset before asking him, “Can I get a pair of headphones and a Walkman or something?"
"Certainly, my little dudette." He points toward the same door Eddie had indicated. “There’s bound to be some somewhere in that closet.”
Lovely. You nod slowly, flashing a quick smile through pursed lips. “Thank you,” you say before turning and making your way over to help yourself.
The interior of the closet is lit by a single dangling lightbulb, and despite the polished fixings and thorough decor of the recording studio itself, this room is bare-bones in its furnishings. Metal shelving crowds the narrow walls, and the floor is plain poured concrete, barren compared to the plush rug in the lounge area. Your heels clack hollowly as you edge tentatively into the space, avoiding loose cords until you’re standing in the center of the tiny room, directly under the lightbulb. Your hands plant on your hips as you survey your surroundings: shelves and shelves of identical cardboard boxes, all unlabeled aside from an occasional errant number or acronym that means nothing to you, some stacked three high.
Of course.
It takes a good half an hour to finally uncover the correct box. Thankfully, though the labels on the outside are useless, the contents within are masking-taped with far more descriptive labels, written in a messy but still legible scrawl. When you open the box, seeing ‘CC’ on the top CD case feels promising, and a little shuffling reveals some hand-drawn album artwork complete with a coffin and bats that can't be for anyone other than Corroded Coffin. With the correct box secured, you pick your way back to the closet door, setting it down to begin your search for a Walkman, some headphones, and a tape player, since you’d seen a couple of loose cassettes in there, too.
You’re nothing if not thorough. No one can ever accuse you of not doing your job.
When you re-emerge from the closet, the recording room behind the plexiglass is not peaceful like you’d left it. It looks like a television set put on mute as you see Gareth’s hair whipping, Jeff’s shoulders swaying, Harry’s nose scrunched in a concentrated grimace, and Eddie’s lips hugging the mic, pink crawling up the base of his neck, its cords stretched tight with effort. You avert your eyes to Argyle, whose long straight curtain of ink-black hair sways with each bob of his head, his ears enveloped by an oversized pair of fancy headphones. Everyone seems to be moving in time with one another, rocking to a rhythm you can’t hear, and the utter silence in the room combined with those frenetic movements strikes you as comical as you carry your box and its contents over to the smaller couch, placing it on the cushion beside you.
As instructed, you dig out each CD and cassette, organizing them methodically in chronological order and choosing to begin with the oldest one. The faded marker on the front tells you it’s from 1986, and the marker’s haphazard scrawl matches the scrawl of sound that blares from the tape deck when you slip the headphones over your ears and depress the play button. The sound is tinny, echo-y as if it’d been recorded in someone’s garage. And you suppose it probably was. Judging by the year, you figure they were probably still in high school or not far from it when they recorded this.
The Corroded Coffin of 1986 is not particularly remarkable. The kick drum holding the beat isn’t quite precise enough, and the bass is somewhat sloppy. Not every transition is tight; sometimes a beat that should be synchronized is just a split second too soon or late, whether guitar-strum or cymbal-strike. But there’s an unmistakable energy to the sound— a fervor, an insistence that demands you pay attention. You can feel that pouring-out of teenage aggression through the growls and licks and chugging of the guitars, through the lyrics sung in that voice that, though it sounds higher and less smoky than the voice you’d heard from your client today, is still unmistakable Eddie. Corroded Coffin has something to say, and you can’t help but listen.
Your gaze drifts up to the plexiglass of the recording room. Your eyes see them as men, but your ears hear them as boys. And you can almost picture them in that garage, surrounded by brightly-striped lawn chairs and deflated pool floaties, youthful bodies jerking and swaying with no less enthusiasm than what you see before you now. When you think about it, it’s kind of touching to imagine them as young boys with nothing but a dream. Clearly, it took years of effort to become what they are now. You watch Eddie’s long-lashed eyes scrunch closed and his dark curls cling to the sides of his jaw with sweat, and a sense of wistfulness wells up inside you as you think of your client as that boy in the garage, a boy who didn’t know what he’d eventually make of himself.
You’ve only heard three songs before the play button pops up, signaling the end of the tape. Quickly, you move to the next two— more garage recordings, all short and sounding similar— before you’ve exhausted the cassettes and are ready to begin on the CDs. The first is marked as a demo from 1988, so you know it’ll likely be longer than what you’ve listened to thus far. You slip it into the player, settling back against the cushions as you begin, eyes wandering over the wood-paneled walls as you imagine Corroded Coffin recording it right here seven years ago.
It begins with the ticking of cymbals, the clatter of the snare, and the whine of a guitar. Much more polished than the garage recordings but so unmistakably eighties in its sound that you can’t help but feel your lips curl up in a little deprecating grin. Still, your foot bobs along, and you end up listening to half of it before your curiosity for more overwhelms you. You switch to their debut studio album, which is what that demo eventually became, and that same song— now track begins the same way— the ticking of cymbals mixed with a snare’s clatter, but you recognize the difference immediately.
This— this— is Corroded Coffin.
Eddie’s voice is grittier and deeper, and the band is tighter, and the addition of those grinding metallic sounds and the electronic synth parts, which have clearly evolved past that stereotypical pop-eighties style, create something truly special. You’d been truthful before when you told Eddie that you hadn’t listened to much of his music, but now that you are, you find it genuinely enjoyable.
Time passes. Argyle’s head bobs, the guys grow sweatier, and your foot steadily bobs until Pretty Hate Machine concludes. And you should move on to the next EP, but you instead find yourself skipping back, back, back until the disc whirls in a blur of muted blue and pink and the first track starts again. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in it until a muffled commotion of voices and thumps rouses you. It’s the guys exiting the recording room, chests heaving, shirts tacky against their chests, looking tired but pleased as they converge on Argyle in a tight circle. You watch their faces light up with smiles and eager chatter, smiling yourself as they seem all of a sudden more boyish for it. Even Eddie, whose visage was once marred with disdain for you, is grinning toothily; as the joy turns his dark eyes amber, you feel a tiny pang low in your stomach at the sight.
Nuh-uh. None of that.
It fades quickly under your quick dismissal, smothered by a reminder of the pride you take in your professionalism. He’s objectively attractive, sure. But he’s still your client, and nothing would change that.
Before long, the group around Argyle disperses. Gareth and Jeff wander towards the couches while Harry stops at the water cooler, gulping down two fills of the plastic cup dwarfed by his meaty hands. You quickly move the cardboard box beside you to the floor and pull the headphones from your ears as you watch Eddie divert from the path, heading back into the recording room without his bandmates.
“What’s he doing?” you ask Gareth as he flops down, sagging against the arm of the large couch across from you. He shakes his damp bangs out of his eyes, flicking sweat that narrowly misses you before he replies.
“He’s laying down the rest of the synth parts for the most recent track. We have to record it separately.” His lips tilt in a grin as he adds playfully, “Ed might be talented, but even he can’t sing and strum and play keys at the same time.”
You find your interest piqued as Eddie folds himself onto the bench behind the keyboard. “He doesn’t need a break?” You watch as he stretches his back with a grimace before shaking out his hands, ruddy fingers turning to a blur.
Jeff just huffs out of his nose, drawing your gaze. His dark skin is shiny with the evidence of his exertion. “Oh, he needs a break,” he says, exasperated though his eyes are fond. “He just won’t take one.”
“Yep,” Gareth adds, “He’s a stubborn bastard. Won’t stop ‘til it’s done.” Gareth and Jeff each accept a tiny plastic cup from Harry gratefully, and you shuffle closer to the couche’s arm to make room for him next to you. You tilt toward him as he sinks down carefully beside you, but it doesn’t draw your eyes. They’re stuck on Eddie, on the look on his face as he nods at Argyle: focused, as if his fatigue is nothing to him but an insect to be flicked away. Argyle nods back, tapping a button on the complex board of switches and sliders in front of him. As Eddie’s head begins to bob, you realize what they just recorded must be playing in that plexiglass box, silenced from your ears.
Before you can overthink it, you rise from the couch, the muffled thumps of your heels shifting from thick, plush rug to clack against wood. As you come up next to Argyle, he remains gazing evenly ahead, eyes never wavering as his head bobs in time with Eddie’s. You’re considering whether or not to interrupt him when, without looking at you, he asks mildly, “What can I do for you, brochacha?”
“Are you able to play it out loud?”
Argyle glances at you then. “Alright,” he drawls, stretching out the word as if impressed. “You wanna hear the bitchin’ beats? Certainly.”
And with the push of a button, the once-silent studio fills with sound.
It’s a perfect marriage of grit and polish, evoking both the garage recordings and their first album in the best way. The distortion on the vocals makes Eddie’s voice sound even more imposing than it was in person when you first met him, and you watch his shoulders rock, brow scrunched tight. “This world rejects me. This world threw me away. This world never gave me a chance; this world’s gonna have to pay.” Eddie’s voice projects over the speakers, though his plush lips are motionless now. With such ease you almost don’t notice them, his fingers begin to dance over the keys, adding a subtle electronic melody beneath the drums and grating synth.
You can feel the tension of the song— the building of something carnal, something furious brewing beneath the surface, threatening to whip your hair back from your cheeks. Its energy builds and builds as Eddie’s voice goes almost breathy underneath the effects, singing, “Something inside of me. It screams the loudest sound. Sometimes I think I could…”
You sense it’s coming, and yet you’re not prepared for it when Eddie’s voice becomes practically a howl: “I’m gonna burn this whole world down!”
The guitars, the drums, the bass and synth— they all explode out in a whirlwind of thrashing sound and driving noise as Eddie’s body rocks, fingertips turning white as he forces sound from the keys. His teeth are grit, his face is pouring sweat, and the sight of it speaks to one thing: determination.
You can’t help but admire that.
You don’t even notice that your head’s been bobbing along to the beat until it ceases, and as you grow still, it whips to the guys at the couch. This song is better than almost all their others. If the rest of the album is like this… Your eyes sparkle with the force of your excitement as you beam at them, and in their pleased smiles and behind their eyes, you can see it: pride and confidence, knowledge that this album they’re creating is going to become something big.
That feeling is effusive, bubbling in your blood as the door to the recording room opens and Eddie emerges. His curly bangs are plastered to his forehead, his eyes are ringed by dark circles and his lips sag in fatigue. Yet despite it, from within, he’s positively glowing.
Caught up in the moment, all you can do is blurt, “Holy shit.” You blink dazedly at Eddie for a moment as his face goes slack, and then he tosses his head back and laughs.
Eddie’s laugh is husky and wild, unrestrained in his amusement. Utterly unfiltered. He laughs as if you’ve told the funniest joke he’s ever heard, and it’s then you realize this is your first day on the job, and you’ve just cursed in front of your client.
Your face fills with heat, cheeks burning as you stutter, “Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry, that was entirely inappropriate—”
Eddie snorts, waving you off, looking not only unbothered but positively tickled that you’d cursed in front of him. To give yourself a moment to recover, you spin, clacking toward the water cooler to fill up one of those little plastic cups like you’d seen Harry doing earlier. You stammer past your indiscretion, and as you focus on expressing yourself, you feel the burn in your cheeks begin to recede. “I shouldn’t have forgotten myself like that. But that song was just… I mean, seriously. It was like… like a return to your roots or something, but not just that.” You pass him the cup carefully, falling back onto your hip as you cross your arms and your eyes dart to the ceiling. You’re trying to put it into words, and you feel frustrated that you’re struggling to. “Okay. It sounded like those early garage recordings where everything was just raw. It’s gritty and angry and cathartic. But it also feels so… new. Like compared to your last album, but also compared to what other bands are doing right now. You know?”
It doesn’t seem entirely adequate, but that’s all you’ve got— all you can do to express that almost intangible quality that you felt but can’t describe. You finally let your chin drop to meet Eddie’s eyes and are surprised to see them no longer dark and shuttered or squinty with mirth. Eddie’s eyes are wide and bright, amber like sun shining through whiskey as they stare unwaveringly into yours.
"Yeah, you picked up on that?” For once, there isn’t a sharp edge to his voice; in fact, he sounds almost pleased. “With this album we're experimenting with something a little different, really trying to focus on the textures and moods. Trying to find ways to create sound that’s not music. Not in a traditional sense, at least.”
You nod eagerly, caught up by the enthusiasm in his voice. “Yeah! That’s it. I don’t listen to metal much, but it just doesn’t sound like what you typically hear nowadays.”
Eddie crosses his arms, holding his elbows as his tongue plays against the inside of his cheek. “You’re right,” he concedes, so easily that it comes as a surprise. “In a way, we are going back to our roots; all the way back to being the freaks who don’t want to be packaged up in some neat box. Especially seeing where this industry is going. Like, I’m watching bands that got me through the hellscape of high school crumbling and folding to the pressure. I mean, fuck.” A whip of sweat-damp curls as he shakes his head, his gaze heating with molten passion, pinning you so intently that you couldn’t look away if you tried. “Do you realize the irony of a genre that prides itself on being anti-establishment becoming part of the establishment?”
“Fuckin’ bullshit, man,” Gareth pipes up from the couch, and Eddie’s arm flies out, an eager finger shaking in his direction as his eyes go wide and almost wild.
“Fuck-ing bullshit,” Eddie enunciates, and as his voice roughens, he almost seems to puff up with the strength of his ranting. “Look, I do get it. They’re not the first to end up caught in the wheel; happens before you even realize it. But you know what you’re left with at the end of the day? Jack fucking squat. And we’re just as angry and powerless as we were as kids.” He jams two ruddy fingertips against his open palm, brows raised in emphasis as if willing you to understand. “This— this music was our escape back then. And it’s going to be our escape now. And I don’t give a fuck what anyone says about it.”
He’s nearly craning over you now, breath hot as it puffs against your face, face drawn tight with his fervor. But you aren’t afraid. Because though he’s nearly yelling, Eddie’s ire isn’t directed at you. Your expression doesn’t harden up or crumble under the weight of his passion; instead, you accept it, letting it whip against you without faltering.
Your steadfastness seems to temper him as the tension in his face eases slightly, though he doesn’t back away. More quietly, he says, “All they want is the next sound-bite, the next commercial success. Sorry, Arg,” he throws a glance toward his producer, “but I honestly don’t give a shit whether there’s even one song on this album that would be a successful single. It’s not meant to be consumed that way— picked apart like fuckin’ buzzards on a corpse.”
Eddie’s amber eyes hold you as he breathes, “This album is raw. It’s ugly, and it’s personal—”
His words choke in his throat, and for a moment, there’s something tentative connecting you, drawn thin between your gazes. Something fragile but nearly tangible, like the foam of the sea that bubbles against sand but melts to nothing if you reach for it.
But then Eddie blinks, and the connection is severed as he seems to realize he’s talking to you: his personal assistant.
His glorified babysitter.
All at once, the passion is gone. He flattens, taking a step back. And there is no preamble to the sudden switch in his demeanor as he demands, “Where’s our dinner?”
the next chapter will be released on @abibliophobiaa's blog!
🌿bluey's masterlist | 🌙luna's masterlist | 💌myo's masterlist
#blueywrites#i will wait#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#rockstar eddie munson#eddie munson rockstar au#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x fem!reader#corroded coffin#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson smut#eddie munson soulmate au#eddie munson fake marriage#myos ideas
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
when we were young (Chapter 3/3)
Stranger Things | E | Steddie | 14,817 | 3/3 |
Snippet:
It was inevitable, wasn't it? After Steve dragged him, ripped up and bloody from certain death. After hell opened up and spilled out into Hawkins. After a borderline bald little girl shoved it all right back from where it came. He was lost from the first time he found himself curled up in Steve Harrington's bed, still trembling from a nightmare. He couldn't risk keeping Wayne up at night, so when Steve offered his guestroom, who was he to say no?
And when Eddie tossed and turned sleeping alone? Who was he to say no to the offer to share the King's bed?
Becoming friends with Robin kind of happened by accident. Sure, they knew each other from school, but he never had a real reason to keep up with the band kids besides waiting for Gareth after practice. Seeing her run off to keep pace with Harrington was…something. Getting to know her? Robin was amazing. Funny and bright and just the kind of friend Eddie had been missing.
At the time, he thought he’d recognized a bit of himself in her. The shameful secret parts. The part that nearly got him killed.
A kindred spirit. A fellow freak.
But no.
He’d thought he’d been the only one sneaking glances at Harrington when no one was looking. Apparently not.
And the worst part? The worst part?
He gets it. Fuck, if Steve had ever caught him looking, had ever even vaguely looked back, Eddie would’ve taken the plunge.
That’s why he can’t face her. Robin’s an actress, for fuck’s sake. She’s successful. All the shit they talked about. All the dreams they cooked up in the dark of the night, curled up in Steve’s way too massive bed. All Eddie’s wanted to do is see her on Broadway. Watch her on fucking TV (holy shit Robin’s on TV), but he can’t. How do you face someone who’s supposed to be your best friend when you’ve fantasized about deepthroating her husband?
Yeah. Better to just cut ties.
At least it was.
It was a sprint at the end, but I'm proud to say I've finished my entry to the @steddiebang of 2023! Super excited to share with all of you. Special shout-outs to the amazing people who helped get this project done. My amazing betas sarasmiling and house_of_chant for making this fic readable! All the love in the world to my artist artist adreannaness whose work is available on both twitter and her ao3.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#fake marriage au#steddie big bang#steddie bang#steddie big bang 2023
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fake Relationship Hellcheer
It's a classic trope for a reason, and we're so lucky in the Hellcheer fandom to have some wonderfully talented writers creating work for us all to enjoy. So here's a little selection of some of our favorite fake dating (or marriage!) Hellcheer stories
Twenty-one rules by Eleanor_Gamgee
Eddie and Chrissy start fake dating to keep her ex-boyfriend out of her hair. Together they decide on twenty rules for the relationship. Eddie gives himself one extra rule to live by
Voted Most Likely to Run Away With You by @blondiest
After Eddie saves Chrissy from Vecna, they know they both need to get out of town. Fast. But pretending they're a married couple will avoid so many questions, it makes perfect sense. Right?
(Title is from Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift, which is just the perfect Hellcheer song and a lovely Easter Egg! We might do a works influenced by Taylor collection soon!)
We’re a lie (you and I) @ebongawk (makeshiftcandy)
Chrissy needs to show Jason that she is deadly serious about not wanting to date him. Dating Eddie seems like the perfect way to make him realise that.
Life after Death and Taxes by Eleanor_gamgee
A second entry from this author, with a guest appearance of Henry Creel as a scumbag landlord. Bonus points for also kind of being a coffee shop/D and D shop AU... maybe we need to do a coffee shop universe list as well
#hellcheer#eddie munson#stranger things#fanfic#hellcheer au#chrissy cunningham#eddie x chrissy#chrissy x eddie#fake dating#friends to lovers#fake marriage au#*
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Writers: @abibliophobiaa, @blueywrites, @breddiemunson & @myosotisa.
Collaborators: @fracturedarkness, @myosotisa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson & @abibliophobiaa.
(Make sure to follow along with all writers and collaborators, because you never know who might be posting blurbs for upcoming chapters...)
-
Soulmate!FakeMarriage!AU with Rockstar!Fboy!Eddie and Personal Assistant!Reader
Also Featuring Ronance
Eddie Munson has always cursed fate. Fuck you, fate, he says. I built my own success. You don’t dictate my life. And with dark flashing eyes and a manic smile, he proves his defiance.
Fuck you, fate, he says when the crowd is nothing but five drunks, so he toils and sweats until everyone knows his name.
Fuck you, fate, he says when the ink doesn’t take to his soulmark, so he buries it in black and red til it can’t be seen.
Fuck you, fate, he says when his publicist makes him marry an actress, so his hotel room becomes a revolving door of one night stands.
Fuck you, fate, he says, and Eddie Munson becomes someone who can’t be tamed.
But then you become his assistant. He kicks and claws, spits and sneers, fights til his knuckles go bloody and his nose stings with coke and tears.
In the end, he stops saying it.
18+ only for mature themes and eventual sexual content. Fem!reader, Fake marriage, Period-Typical Homophobia, Soulmate AU, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Angst (with a happy ending)
-
Shmackin’ Tunes (Playlist)
Hot off the Press! (Prequel Material):
01/ 02/ 03/ 04/ 05/ 06/ 07/
Masterlist: (tag list open) 🏷️
Chapter One: NOW POSTED @blueywrites (9.9k)
Chapter Two: NOW POSTED @abibliophobiaa (9.1k)
Chapter Three: NOW POSTED @blueywrites (15K)
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x afab!reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson soulmate au#rockstar!eddie munson smut#rockstar!eddie munson x reader#rockstar!eddie munson x f!reader#rockstar!eddie munson fanfic#rockstar!eddie munson x you#rockstar eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#IWillWait
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
i feel like Modern Steddie would make an amazing 'The Proposal' AU.
like... Steve being originally from somewhere like Italy, and he's technically an immigrant although he's lived there forever, he's always been super on it with his visa renewals, but he's also a boss bitch high up Editor-in-Chief at a book publishers in New York an he ropes Eddie into a fake marriage to get a green card when he maybe forgot about his visa application needing him to stay in the country for a hot sec.
sue him, his memory has always been a bit shit! His mother used to say it had to be because he backed himself right down the stairs as a baby and bumped his lil noggin on every step on the way down.
probably correct. surprisingly he didnt die.
and Eddie is his deeply overworked assistant with dreams of being an editor, some might call him Steve's shadow, because he's always just kinda. there. like an off putting prop in the corner that looms there until he's summoned. He gets Steves coffee, answers his emails, reads submissions, gets him snacks and migraine meds at 2am when Steve cant sleep etc.
kinda wants to see Steve get hit by a bus, or at train. Whichever makes the most mess with the lowest chance of survival.
He hasnt seen his family in forever. (family being Wayne and the Hawkins lot), he's not rich, his family dont own some fancy business empire, they're just... really good down to earth people and Steve...
Steve who grew up with ice cold parents, who didn't really get the whole family experience, who never understood why Eddie could possibly want to spend christmas with his family instead of running around for him on christmas eve because ew family, is thrown for all the loops ever when they not only welcome him with open arms, but treat him as though he is actually family.
it's wild, and it's warming his cold heart, and oh no why is Eddie Munson actually charming, what the shit?
Is he in love with his fake Fiance?
Maybe. can he still go through with the fake marriage?
maybe not.
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steve is Robins beard/no upside down AU where Robin and Steve run away and get married after Robin graduates because she gets outed in the last few weeks of highschool and its the only way to stop her parents from sending her to a christan all girls college.
Originally the cover up plan is for Robin and Steve to tell her parents that they just recently started dating and a girl in band started the rumor about Robin being a lesbian because she was jealous and hoped it would make Steve and Robin break up. They can fake date and then "break up" after Robin goes off to college in Chicago, claiming the distance was too much.
Robins mom is fully ready to accept this as fact, after all it will do so much for their status in town if her daughter marries into the Harrington family
Robins dad, on the other hand, hates the idea of his only daughter being with the son of Richard Harrington. He watched the bastard play with his sisters heart in highschool before running off to marry some rich girl and will be damned if he sees the same happen to his daughter. No it will be better if he put an end to all of this and ships her off to Mount Saint Marys so she never has to see the Harrington boy again.
Cue Robin and Steve aided by Joyce and Hopper making a plan for them to run away because Steve will be damned if all of Robins dreams are crushed because her father wants to be an over protective asshole. They decide the easiest way to stop her dad from tracking them down and forcing Robin to come home is if they get married.
So the night after graduation, Robin sneaks out of her house and steals away into the night with Steve. They drive all night until they make it to chicago as the sun is rising. Joyce has a cousin who lives in the city and is willing to let Robin and Steve stay in her spare room until they get settled.
Carina has the same motherly warmth as Joyce, though she never married or had kids instead choosing to live with her " Capital R Roomate" Marjorie. Of course, the two women know the truth of Robin and Steves situation and as soon as the court house opens, they bear witness as Steve and Robin sign the marriage papers and offically become Steve and Robin Buckley-Harrington
They actually fought quite a bit on last names Steve insisting that he should take the last name Buckley because fuck his parents, while Robin still angry at her father wanted to become a Harrington just to spite him. Carina is the one who convinces them to hyphenate after, to her horror and amusement they suggest combining their lastnames and becoming the Buckington's (Steves idea) or the Harringley's (Robins idea)
Steve and Robin find jobs together at a local coffee shop and after Robins first semester at school working towards a degree in linguistics, Steve decides to apply for community college eventually deciding he wants to become a school councilor, he loves working with kids and hey if he can help atleast one kid all the schooling will be worth it.
Steve and Robin love the city and once they both graduate -Robin ending up adding a teaching degree in with her linguitics- they get jobs teaching at a local middle school Steve as the guidance counciler and Robin teaching French and Latin. They talk briefly about getting divorced after a few years but after almost dying in a fire together when starcourt burned down they're trauma bonded for life, honestly steve doesnt know who he was kidding thinking he'd be fine staying in Hawkins until the kids graduated while Robin went off to Chicago.
Carina and Marjorie introduce Robin and Steve to the queer scene in Chicago and Steve has his bisexual awakening. Robin becomes Steves beard just as much as he is hers. They both date around a bit, but nothing serious ever comes of it theres not many people who can handle the combined force that is "Steve And Robin Platonic With A Capital P Soulmates"
Enter professional substitute teacher/drama club advisor Eddie Munson and brand new lead journalist of the Chicago Tribune Nancy Wheeler, who are both confused, gay and unwilling to be homewreckers but cant help but to be sucked into Robin and Steves orbit all the same
#teachers au#except nancy shes a journalist who meets robin when shes asked to come in a set up a booth for career day#no upside down#platonic stobin#steddie#ronance#im actually in the process of writing this but im a slow writer and have final school papers coming up#which ive been procrastinating by writing this instead#Run Away With Me AU
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Two Trees Collapsed my House so Everythings on Haitus (yes really)
PROFILE:
Ayo, I’m Ghost.
31/PNW/Actual Cryptid
AO3: GhostHost
Twitter: @Hauntedslightly
This is a Stranger Things Account now lol
I do a lot of prompts/thoughts, everyone is more than welcome to take them and run (I wanna see the results thou 👀 ) I have the same policy with fanfic: it’s fanfic, lemme see them inspired works 👀 👀
Fanfics
Steddie
Small Town Rumors (Pseudo Dad Wayne Munson takes in a beat to shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as an owed favor to Hopper.)
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four
A03
Lifelines (Gareth and Steve as Secret Cousins AU)
Part One / Part Two / Part Three
Door Prize (Alt S4 where Dustin invites Steve to help out Hellfire during the annual Hawkins High School Holiday Bazaar. He shows up with baked goods in a Hellfire shirt, Eddie catastrophizes.)
Part One / Part Two
Cults of Personality: A Doozy of a Day (A reverse “Hellfire adopts Steve” wherein Steve + The Party Adopt Hellfire! Featuring Eddie “cannot fake being a heterosexual for his literal life” Munson and getting stuck in Hopper’s cabin.)
A03
Eddie Has ADHD Domestic Fluff AU
Part One / Part Two / Part Three
Adopt a Jock (Hellfire Adopts Steve in S2 AU)
A03
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five 1 / Part Five 2
Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine
Chokechain (Steve’s parents try to force him into an arranged marriage and no one quite understands their type of abuse towards Steve AU)
Part One / Part Two
AO3 / Podfic by the amazing Rambling_Company
Steve is a completely random teacher who ends up working remotely during the pandemic and the rest of the party is famous/infamous AU
Intro / Part One: Erica Sinclair / Part Two: Eddie Munson-Corroded Coffin
Merry Crisis (AKA After Dustin tricks Corroded Coffin into a white elephant exchange at Steve’s house Eddie becomes determined to solve the Mystery that is Steve Harrington )
Part One / Part Two
AO3
Whumpverse: Eddie finds a drunk and bloody Steve Harrington in a bathtub at Tina’s party three days after Starcourt. He incorrectly comes to the conclusion Steve is in an abusive BDSM relationship)
Windows / Parking Lots
Stobin Timeloop AU (with Steddie)
Bit One / Bit Two /
Rejected Stobin Time Travel AU Bit
Hungry: Werewolf (NOT A/b/o) AU
Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three/ Jonathan Interlude
AO3
Illustrated Bits and Bobs
Plaid Walls/ Blanket Forts
The actual fic on AO3
Oneshots
Indie Horror Filmmaker Eddie and Actor Steve AU Steddie
Fake Punk Steve Steddie
Questionable Behavior (aka Eddie Gets his Cafeteria Rants Thrown Right Back At Him) Steddie
Steve and Robin Hold Hands when they Fight Steddie, Stobin
Eddie Gifts Steve a Ring as a Joke Steddie
Steve is a member of the Clause (yes that Clause) Family Steddie
A03
In an alternate dimension, Eddie was Vecna’s sole survivor--This dimensions Steve crosses over to bring him home. Steddie
Werewolf AU, featuring Transmasc Gareth and protective Eddie & Steve
“Are we gonna get through a date where you don’t spend half of it trying to escape?” Steddie
“Steve had to save the guy’s life first, but once he did, Jonathan was a dead man.” Steddie + Greatwise
Eddie’s soulmark was burnt Soulmate AU Steddie
Mike is one of Steve’s kids, even if they both hate it-- Steve & Mike, Byler + Steddie implied
Fanfic tag is #0o0 fanfics
I am weak for the horse AUs
#hey look you can pin shit now#thats so much easier than coding side pages lol#THEY NEVER CENTER RIGHT
825 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steddie Fic Recommendations Part 6!
Previous Recommendations: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five
Tuesday is Steddic fic rec day in this Tumblr house! Get some popcorn, a glass of ice water, and read these beautiful fics, babes.
Also, any Tumblr blogs that may be tagged, feel free to reach out for me to remove the tag. I have no qualms doing so!
As always, the tags and themes vary on all of these fics. Heed all tags, ratings, and archive warnings with caution.
Hug by hotluncheddie @hotluncheddie
“All Eddie believes in, all Eddie knows, is that Steve’s house is so fucking loud.
‘The walls Stevie they’re so, so white. And your fridge! It’s just, loud and and weird.’ Eddie had said, already frustrated when Steve came to pick him up, even more so once they arrived.
And once he was inside, it was like everything doubled, tripled. Steve’s house was unbearable tonight.
But Steve had just laughed and Eddie knew he would, knew from the way he’d said it, all loud and over the top - added inflections, a good DM. But, the thing is, he mentioned it because he meant it, for real. It’s too fucking loud, thrumming under his skin.”
Chapters: 1/1, WC: 3,483, Rating: No Rating no Archive Warnings Apply
Autistic Eddie Munson
—————
2. I Am Not The Sun by beetlesandstars @beetlesandstarss
“He gets back just in time for the pizza he ordered to arrive, and enters the apartment feeling kind of like he’s bringing Robin a peace offering.
Hey, Robin! Here’s a pizza. Also, I’m a man now.
(Or, Steve comes to terms with his gender with the help of his friends. He may or may not fall in love along the way.)”
Chapters: 1/1, WC: 5,899, Rating: Teen and Up no Archive Warnings apply
College AU
Trans Steve Harrington
—————
3. in the orbit of the sun by Inallthingsgoodorbad
“Steve knows before he opens his eyes that he will see no light once he does.
There is something you learn once you’ve been trapped underground—darkness is unforgiving and immovable, and Steve has learned the way it presses into you, the way it makes itself known.
Darkness surrounds him. He opens his eyes. Blinks. Finds no light.
—
After an earthquake, Steve and Eddie get trapped under a collapsed building. Steve isn’t doing so well.”
Chapters: 1/1, WC: 3,348, Rating: Teen and Up no Archive Warnings apply
—————
4. You’ve Begun To Feel Like Home by nobetterlove
“Eddie is 6 years old when he first meets Steve; the boy is beautiful and covered in dripping chocolate ice cream. They’re instant friends, spending the entirety of that summer together. When the end of their time together starts to draw near, Eddie comes up with a plan — to marry his best friend. It becomes a trend that Eddie and Steve dance around for more than 20 years of ups, downs, and tragedies. Read to find out what happens when a ring pop and a handful of fake marriages changes both of their lives.
Or — 5 times Eddie & Steve were fake married and the one time they finally get hitched (for real)!!”
Chapters: 1/1, WC: 14,542, Rating: Explicit no Archive Warnings apply
Canon Divergence AU
Different First Meeting AU
Childhood Friends AU
5 + 1 Things
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay so I really want a Royalty AU with Robin? Maybe like reader has to get married if they/she want to become the queen but instead of falling for the eligible bachelors, she falls in love with Robin. Thanks! (Also if the reader could secretly be lesbian I would love it)
A/N: i loved writing this omg
Pairings: Robin Buckley x Reader (romantic), Brother!Eddie Munson x Sister!Reader, Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington
Warnings: i want to say homophobia but more in like an implied way i guess
Words: 1,300+
You danced with the next eligible bachelor, a fake smile plastered on your face. He wasn’t horrible, but he wasn’t your type. But apparently that didn’t matter for a queen-to-be – you just had to be married.
Once the song ended you smiled at the man, and another took his place to dance with you. This one wasn’t even half-bad – you would even go as far as saying that he was wonderful. But just not in a romantic sense.
“Steve Harrington,” he introduced himself, kissing your hand politely. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Y/n Munson,” you smiled. “The pleasure is mine.”
You danced with him, a prince of another land, but nothing tugged at your heartstrings. No spark flared between the two of you, even though you found yourself laughing at his jokes and smiling much more than you had with any other man.
When the ball ended you made your way to your lavish room and your servants undressed you, untying the corset that made it hard to breathe and the dress that was so itchy it burned. If you did end up marrying a prince and becoming queen, at least you’d be able to choose your clothes.
A knock at your door sounded as you sat on your bed, reading, and you looked up at the noise.
“Who is it?” you called.
“Your favourite person in the world,” your brother called back.
You grinned and opened the door, Eddie standing on the other side. He pulled you in for a quick hug, his denim vest a familiar comfort against your face.
“I didn’t see you at the ball,” you said.
Eddie grinned playfully at you. “And take the spotlight off of the queen-to-be? Nah.”
You rolled your eyes at your older brother. Your brother, Edward Joseph Munson the third, had abdicated the throne, leaving you next in line. You knew your brother was going to do it – he was a free spirit, and being chained down by the responsibilities of running a kingdom wasn’t something that he wanted to do. He wanted to travel, he wanted to fall in love, he wanted to go on quests and journeys and tell stories to his closest friends around campfires and sleep under the stars. That’s the way he’d always been, and you’d always known it would be you who would rule your kingdom.
“Found a suitor?” Eddie asked, draping himself over your bed like he owned the place.
“Not for me, no,” you sighed.
“What about the one you were dancing with towards the end?” Eddie mused, but there was a slight strain to his voice. “Y’know, the one with the hair?”
“So you were there!” you accused, smacking him with your pillow.
Eddie laughed and smacked you right back. “Well?”
You shrugged. “He was alright. But… you know me.”
Eddie’s smile faded slightly. Yeah, he knew. He knew that you would never be able to love a man like that, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you forced yourself to. You’d known for a while that it was a woman who would be able to capture your heart, but you’d never be able to marry one.
Eddie felt your pain on a personal level. It was part of the reason why he’d abdicated – he didn’t like the opposite gender, either. He wanted to be able to love freely, so he gave the throne to you, not knowing at the time that you didn’t want a king at your side.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Marriage doesn’t mean love, right? It’s just a legal thing.”
It was something you’d told yourself again and again, hoping that the next time you repeated it, you’d believe it.
Eddie’s eyes lit up, and you furrowed your eyebrows at him.
“Have you read the law?” he asked. “Y’know, the one that says you have to be married?”
“‘In order to be Queen, a princess must be married to someone else of royal status,’” you recited.
“Someone else,” Eddie repeated. “Someone else. Not a prince. Not a king. Someone else.”
Your eyes widened as it clicked.
“No way,” you breathed. “No way! We have to go check! Right now!”
The two of you scrambled up from your bed and burst through the doors, running through the castle hallways and to the library as fast as your feet could carry you. You sprinted past bookcase after bookcase until you reached the legal section. Eddie brushed his fingers over the spines of the books before he pulled out one on the marriages of the royals.
“Nothing,” he whispered, flicking through the pages. “Nothing about you having to marry a man. Just someone of a royal status.”
Your heart soared, before problems and complications began to fill your head, and it sank back down.
“I have to choose someone in five days’ time,” you stressed. “There is no way any princesses could make it here by then. Besides, how could I even ask? I –”
“Hey, hey,” Eddie said, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ll find someone. I’ll help you.”
You took a deep breath, calming your anxiousness, when voices sounded behind you. You turned your head as two people paused at the other end of the aisle. It was two of the guests from other kingdoms who were staying in the guest quarters. One of them you recognised – Steve, the prince you’d been dancing with. And his companion…
Well, she was the most gorgeous girl you’d ever seen. Her hair was cut short, just below her chin, and was a blonde-brown colour. She seemed tall, even from a distance, and she wore leather pants and a white button up shirt.
You must have been staring instead of concentrating, because your brother elbowed you in the side, much harder than he needed to. You glared at him and rubbed your side before turning your attention to the newcomers.
“Steve,” you greeted, dipping your head. “Nice to see you again. And… um…”
Gosh, what were formalities? You didn’t know, they’d flown right out of your head as soon as the pretty girl appeared. Your tutors would have been horrified.
Luckily, neither of the two seemed to mind. The girl stayed silent, her eyes wide as she stared at you, and Steve introduced her. “This is my friend, Princess Robin Buckley.”
Princess. Oh, princess. She was a princess. She was royal. You could marry her and become queen, and…
And you were getting way ahead of yourself. You’d just met the girl, for gosh’s sake!
“Yeah, that’s me,” Robin said quickly, trying to curtsey in pants. “I’m princess Robin. Your kingdom is very wonderful, and your castle is magnificent. The views from the east side are fantastic – I never knew someone could see that much sea from a window.”
The girl continued rambling until Steve nudged her lightly. You tried to hide your smile as you turned to look at your brother, hoping he was thinking the same thing as you – but his eyes were glued to Steve. You rolled your eyes but smiled, knowing that he was most definitely not thinking the same thing you were.
“I feel like I haven’t seen another woman in ages,” you sighed, walking over to Robin. “Would you like to go out tomorrow? I can show you the beach – there’s this one cliff I like to go to where you can see the other side of the bay.”
It was an offer of friendship - and hopefully something more.
Robin seemed pleasantly surprised, and she nodded furiously. “I’d love that,” she agreed. “We could make it a whole day, maybe?”
Your heart soared at the fact that she wanted to spend the day with you.
“I’ll tell the cooks to pack us lunch,” you decided. “Meet me at the doors of the throne room at ten tomorrow?”
Robin nodded again. “Ten. Yeah, that sounds great. Like ten in the morning? Well, I’d assume so, because you agreed to make it a whole day…”
Robin trailed off and started blushing furiously. You smiled at her and felt your heart grow warm.
“Yes, ten in the morning,” you agreed. “I’ll see you then?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” she accepted. “I’ll see you then.”
You smiled at her one last time, feeling for once in your life that maybe you could be queen and fall in love.
#robin buckley x reader#robin stranger things#robin buckley x you#robin buckley x y/n#robin buckley#robin x reader#robin x y/n#robin x you#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington#royalty au#emily's 1k celebration
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jay's Steddie Fic Recs :)
because i have so many, I needed to make a fresh post of them :)
some of these fics are found on tumblr, some on ao3, maybe some on wattpad? all of them are spectacular. i’ll tag the creators tumblrs if i know them :)
happy reading! <3
Steves First Bruise spiderman!steve x roommate!eddie - eddie has a crush on his roommate steve, who also happens to get into a lot of fights. he also ends up with a crush on spider man. how long will it take for him to figure it out he’s only crushing on one person? please its so adorable
Till I Kissed You steve x eddie - super angsty. eddie doesnt get the big deal about kissing, steve calls him a bad kisser, they kiss to test it out. oh god, now theyre both questioning everything. perfection.
The Boys Of Summer eddie x steve & wayne - for all you wayne lovers out there. steve dreams that eddies alive, he’s so sure that his dreams are real, he tries to break into the upsidedown by himself to get the boy he loved back. wayne tags along for the ride. please, this is so good it has me dying i love it so much.
Not Exactly Nappa Valley eddie x steve - ultimate fake dating scenerio. steve has a family wedding to attend and he wants to piss off his parents, so he brings eddie and they gay it up and… oh my god, plot twist, who wouldda thought they both harboured feelings for eachother?
Needles steve x eddie - eddie gives steve a stick and poke and he kinda gets hard because hes a sadist. steve gives eddie a stick and poke and eddie almost busts in his pants. its pretty funny and has some fabulous smut.
If Your Heart Surrenders steve x eddie - super angst. dates back pre s4 and is very soft and angsty and i loveee it. i binge read the shit out of it. it has a very sweet ending. an alternate version can also be found here on tumblr. @asbealthgn
Recipe For Disaster steve x eddie - princess diaries au?! excuse me, hello. this is everything to me. it is pure perfection. please give this a read because it has me sitting on the edge of my seat, biting my nails and pulling at my hair. everytime a new chapter drops i get so excited. prince steve?!? yes. yes yes yes. @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe
Crashed The Wedding steve x rockstar!eddie - steve is forced into an arranged marriage and eddie comes to save the day after nine years apart. HELLO this is amazing. pure beauty. please take the time to read this because it’s magnificent, makes my heart swell. it’s very very good. makes me feel things. i love them so much. @piratefishmama
Eddie’s Memory Log steve x eddie - eddie is in hospital post vecna and can’t remember anything, steve visits every day and writes down what eddie can remember - hint hint, eddie always remebers steve. this is so good, i love it very very much, please give it a read. @harmonictechnicality
This Love Came Back To Me famous!steve hopper x ‘dead’!eddie munson - steve rescued eddie’s guitar after his death and processed his grief through song writing, pouted his heart out into the lyrics and took the world by surprise. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH okay, just read it. it’s so fucking good. gut wrenching stuff, okay!? have a read. it’s beautiful. so fucking beautiful i was going through every single possible emotion known to man. @strawberryspence
Bad News First steve x eddie - steve grieves for eddie’s death and becomes close with wayne in the process, slowly falling in love with what could have been with eddie. until… I LOVE IT. it’s beautiful. one of my favs. @strangersteddierthings
Melt Me On Your Tongue wounded!sub!eddie x caring!dom!steve - this is a spicy one, basically pure smut, but it’s got a lot of feelings. i love the style, the atmosphere, and the feeling the author has created for this fic and steve & eddie’s dynamic. it honestly feels delicate to read, and i love it very much. highly recommend. very soft but very spicy and hot :) @steddielations
Black Out Days (Fairground Nights) - eddie x steve - no monsters, modern au. nancy and eddie are best friends, robin and steve are best friends. when nancy and robin date, steve and eddie clash… a lot. ‘tis brilliant. this fic is so fucking angsty, it’s got some really fucking heavy themes (please read the warnings before proceeding) but it’s written so effortlessly beautifully. this has easily become one of my favourites now. it’s more than worth the read. @azrielgreen
#jay's fic recs#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#angst#fluff#smut#spiderman!steve#modern au#no monsters au#post s4#stranger things#stranger things 4#steve & wayne#wayne munson#eddie & wayne#fake dating au#roomates au#pre s4#famous!steve#not really dead!eddie#hurt / comfort#wounded!sub!eddie#caring!dom!steve#dom!eddie#dom!steve#sub!eddie#sub!steve#platonic stobin
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fake Husband Eddie Munson AU Part 3: Not Him
Part 1: here
Part 2: here
Tag List: @alana4610 @fluentmoviequoter @alicentswife @vivalasv3gan @goth-cowgirl-03 @yujyujj @slowgabinaburninroom @zaddyskye69 @manda-panda-monium @ckeeks4563 @raven-rust @adaydreamaway08 @nikkisheep @flawiette @knmendiola @corvusskid @itsmadamehydra @saramelaniemoon @winchestergirl87-blog
A/N: I have one more little epilogue type update for this little story and really I’m so glad y’all enjoyed it and I hope you’re happy with the ending ✨
*Eddie just knows he’s not leaving until you forgive him*
“You’re such an idiot.” Eddie mumbles to himself as he rushes up the steps of your front porch. “God how the fuck do I fix this?” He asks himself as he runs a hand over his face and lets out a sigh. “Just tell her the truth.” He whispers as he reaches into the pocket of his work overalls and pulls out the skull ring the bartender tossed at him.
“What exactly is the truth Eddie?” You watch him jump at the sound of your voice and you have to hold back from laughing because he nearly dropped the ring that he held in the palm of his hand. You stand up from your rocking chair so you can lean against the railing crossing your arms over your chest. Eddie turns his body so he’s facing you and he feels his heart drop when he sees your eyes are glossy and red letting him know you had been crying and it was all because of him.
“I’m so sorry.” You roll your eyes as Eddie takes a small step towards you. “I don’t even know how it happened.” Eddie tries to find the words to explain himself but he’s coming up short as he rubs at the back of his neck.
“I can tell you exactly how it happened.” Your voice is harsh as you stare Eddie right in the eyes as you stand up straight and take a step towards him all of a sudden making your front porch feel extremely small. “You got so caught up in whatever you were doing at work that you forgot about me.” Eddie doesn’t miss the way your voice cracks a bit as you speak making him look down at his feet because looking at you when you’re on the verge of tears is too much for him. “Wanna know how I know that? Because this isn’t the first time someone’s forgotten about me because something more important came up …so please tell me Eddie…what was it that got you so distracted?” You watch him lift his head up but instead of looking at you he turns his head so he’s look in the direction of his van that’s parked in your driveway.
“A minivan.” You almost don’t hear him due to his voice being almost a whisper. You just nod your head as you let out a scoff making Eddie look at you and the way your porch light glows he’s able to see a few tears escape your eyes.
“A minivan? Really?” Eddie tries to close the space between the two of you but you’re quick to take a few steps backwards away from him. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this again.” You watch Eddie reach his hand out for you but you just shake your head and cross your arms over your chest.
“Do what?” He asks as he watches you look down at your feet.
“Be with someone who doesn’t care about me or…have time for me.” Eddie feels like his heart is about to break into a million pieces because he knows who you’re comparing him to and it kills him because he knows just how poorly Jason treated you and he doesn’t ever want you to think he’s anything like him.
“I do care about you and I absolutely have time for you.” Eddie needs you to hear him so he bends down so you’ll look him in the eyes. “I am so sorry sweetheart…I swear it won’t happen again…I’m not him okay? I had tonight circled on my calendar and everything.” You just let out a huff as you wipe your eyes.
“Yet you still didn’t show up.” Eddie knows he deserves this, it’s his fault he didn’t make sure he got off work in time to meet you at the Hideout by six, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less seeing you upset at him. “Just go home Eddie.” You whisper as you take a seat back in your rocking chair as you look down at your hands in your lap.
“No.” Is all he says before he’s closing the distance between the two of you and dropping to his knees right in front of you and picking up your right hand in his so he can place his skull ring back on your ring finger. “I’m not going anywhere…call Hopper if you want but I’m not leaving.” You look from the ring to his eyes as he gives you a little smile. “I fucked up but I swear…it won’t happen again and honestly I’d be fine with proving that to you for the rest of our lives but…that seems like a little much to say considering we haven’t even had our first date yet.” You just shake your head as a soft laugh escapes you making Eddie smile.
“Whose fault is that huh?” Your voice is playful as you look back down at the ring on your finger.
“Oh it’s my fault…but I’m here now so…what do you say? Will you let me take you somewhere?” You can hear how hopeful he is and you know in your heart he isn’t anything like Jason and he’d never hurt you intentionally.
“Okay.” Eddie smiles as he brings his hands up to cup your face. “Don’t make me regret this.” You whisper as you lean into his touch and Eddie just nods and leans in to place a kiss to your forehead.
“You won’t..I promise.” You smile as he kisses your cheeks. “Oh and one more thing.” You raise an eyebrow as he drops his hands from your face so he can grab your hand that has his ring on it. “I’m going to need you to stop trying to give this back to me.” He explains as he twirls the skull ring around on your finger a few times.
“Then I need you to stop being an asshole and never make me sit in a bar for two hours waiting for you ever again.” Eddie just nods his head as he places your hands back in your lap.
“Deal.” With that he leans in and places a kiss to your lips making you smile as he pulls away. “Now how about we go have ourselves a first date Mrs. Munson.” You just laugh as he stands up and reaches his hand out to help you out of your chair.
#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie Munson fake marriage au#fake marriage au#eddie munson au#modern!eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x you fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson series#eddie munson x female reader#eddie Munson#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things au#my little dungeon master baby#angst with a happy ending#angst with fluff
466 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome to my blog!
For those who are new (hiii <3), I’m Frenchie, and I figured I'm official enough now to have an introduction post, so here's some basic info, FAQ, and a Masterlist of my content so far!
I reblog exclusively Stranger Things content here, although surprisingly I DO have other interests :o
I have an Ao3 account under this same username, if that's your thing!
I keep my writing and this blog PG-13 (with language/drug use and mild sexual content), so if you're looking for explicit stuff I am not the writer for you!
Favorite ship is Any Character x Peace and Happiness (also I love writing Steddie and Lumax has my whole heart)
Every time I get a comment, like, reblog, or feedback of any kind, my heart grows three sizes. Seriously, I'm so honored when people enjoy what I write!
Always looking for new internet friends!
~~~~~~~~~~
Masterlist:
Note: WIP's are “Eddie Munson vs the World,” "we can be heroes," and “every city’s got a graveyard." Ficlets won't be linked here but I will have them all tagged under "dailydrabble"
Stranger Things (follows the general canon of the show):
"Back to the Future (Hawkins Edition)" - (OC travels back in time and lives through the canon show, season 4 fix-it, 132K words) this one is my fav you guys go read it on Ao3 here
“i’m counting the days to the rapture” - (all canon characters who died on the show reunite, 40K words) found here and on Ao3
“Every city’s got a graveyard” - (Buffy x Stranger Things crossover) - still in its early stages but the first chapter can be found here!
Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington:
“songs that voices never share” - (alternate canon Steve goes deaf after season 3 and meets Eddie, who can sign, 70K words) found here and on Ao3
"we can be heroes" - (Part 2 of the Deaf Steve AU, season 4 rewrite/fix-it in Eddie's POV) found here
“I wanna cut to the feeling” (modern day AU enemies to lovers slow burn feat Rockstar!Eddie and Hairstylist!Steve, 79K words) - Chapter 1-5 found here, the rest found on Ao3!
“I can’t tune you out” - (Rockstar!Eddie/Musician!Steve fake dating enemies to lovers slow burn, 113K words) found here and on Ao3
"Freaky Friday (Steddie's Version)" - (enemies to lovers body swap shenanigans, 36K words) found here and on Ao3
"flowers and ink" - (tattoo artist x flower shop modern day au, 21K words) found here and on Ao3
"Stranger Therapy" - (first date at couples counseling with Dr. Murray, 13K words) found here and on Ao3
“Eddie Munson vs the World” - (very camp WIP in the style of Scott Pilgrim) found here
“That ‘90s Fic” (post-canon cute fic for the Valentine’s Day fic exchange 2023! 5.5K words) found here and on Ao3
“Daisies” (requested one shot of Eddie giving his best friend Steve flowers for Valentine’s Day) - found here on Tumblr and here on Ao3
"mysterious ways" - (Steddie week 2023, Kas!Eddie/Steve post canon season 4, 12K words) found here and on Ao3
“The Marriage of Bigfoot and Mothman” found here and on Ao3
"Do I wanna know?" - (modern day AU fluffy one shot) found here and on Ao3
STWG April Fools Day Swap (one shot where Steddie saves a wounded bunny) found here
“Like real people do” - (one shot written for the STWG’s Hozier collection, 1K words) found here
"Well, this is new" found here. The follow-up, "A Different Kind of Nervous," is only on Ao3 (idk why lol). Part 3, “Hands,” found here. Ao3 links for part one, two, and three
Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler:
“No Way” (featuring one of my fav lines I've ever written) found here, Ao3 link here
“Best Friends” (another tumblr exclusive!) found here
“I wanted her to look at me” (aka Robin liked Nancy instead of Tammy Thompson) found here, Ao3 link here
The Fruity Four (Robin/Nancy/Steve/Eddie):
“Barb is alive!” (AU request) here, Ao3 link here
"Teleplatonic" (Robin can read Steve's mind, no romance just Stobin) here, Ao3 link here
“Who looks like the better kisser?” - (very short and sweet) found here, Ao3 link here
“This is gonna be fun” (aka the two couples decide to be each other's beards) found here, Ao3 link here
"Steve is NOT Straight" (feat platonic Stobin baybeee) here, Ao3 link here
Misc Content (not fic related):
Steve Harrington (Taylor’s Version) - collab with the Tumblr bestie! Found here
Chaotic Stranger Things Headcanons (part one, part two, part three)
Songs that I associate with the characters
Steve Harrington as a cat AU (shitpost collab with my Tumblr bestie, truly a treat and v chaotic, you'll love it)
Cover art for my fic “I can’t tune you out” done by my Tumblr bestie 🥰
How the characters would react to you coming out
Random hair opinions
I still might write this essay on S4 costuming lol
Robin/Nancy parallel with Steve (lowkey sad but also go Ronance) found here
Ronance evidence - found here
My Maya Hawke concert experience!
Byler x Scott Pilgrim meme - found here
Joe Quinn moments - First late night appearance and the falling blooper
List of confirmed JQ improvised moments
Very valid question
Stancy x Taylor Swift (Midnight Rain) found here
Quick Steddie headcanon
Steve is simply A Dad (and I love him)
Theory about season 5, Eddie, and inconsistencies
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inbox is always open for questions, concerns, feedback, hot takes, requests, or literally whatever as long as you're not weird about it.
Love youuuuuu
#masterlist#figured I'd finally make it a separate post#literally this took forever I'm so bad at technology#my tagging system used to be such a mess it was hard to organize everything lol#me#pinned post#stranger things#st fanfic#stranger things writing#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington#eddie munson#nancy wheeler#robin buckley#the fruity four#steddie#ronance
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
Romeo and Juliette Steddie AU - where Steve is the Romeo playboy, who falls hard for Eddie’s falling first and won’t listen to his friends warnings Juliette, and where these two teenagers are so dramatic in trying to fake their deaths until Wayne Munson takes a look at them and decides to end their feuding houses by arranging a marriage between the two (cause Wayne’s awesome and never agreed to Richard Harrington and Edward Munson Sr’s fighting).
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kikis-Writing-World Masterlist
Previously 66wookies and no-droids-on-sunday
Hi all! I'm so thrilled you're here checking out my masterlist. I will do my best to keep it up to date and organized. Any suggestions, or if you notice any missing or broken links, please let me know.
For notifications of new fics, drabbles and head canons I post, follow @kikis-writing-library and turn on notifications.
Happy Reading!
💧=Angst 🩸=Blood/Injuries 🐑=Fluff 🔥=Smut
Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)
Flags and Labels 🐑
The Reason 🐑 Goodbye 💧 (sequel to The Reason, can also be stand alone)
Requested: “You’re not alone anymore.” 🩸🐑
Requested: Soulmate AU where you cannot say your soulmate’s name 🐑
Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)
Books and Their Covers 🐑
Communication Breakdown 💧🐑
Gizmo (Drabble) 🐑
No Life Without You 💧🩸
Somewhere Safe 💧🩸🐑
Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier)
Where The Sky Touches the Sea Series Masterlist (Hiatus)
30 Days 💧🐑
Every Pilot Needs A Wingman 🐑
Insecure 💧🐑
Longer 🐑
Sticky/Tricky Jar 🐑
To Be Wanted 💧🐑
What Ifs 🐑
Whole Enchilada 🐑
Requested: “It’s two sugars right?” and “I’ll pick you up at the airport.” 🐑
Requested: Soulmate AU where you dream of your soulmate in a past life 🐑
Requested: Soulmate AU where you can feel when they’re in grave danger or emotionally distressed 💧🐑
Fake Fic Title: Panicky Expectant Father 🐑
Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey (Kingsman and The Golden Circle)
Whiskey Straight Series Masterlist (Hiatus)
A Statesman Christmas 💧🐑🔥
Fireflies 💧🐑
Love is Blind 💧🩸🐑
Overwhelmed 🐑
Secrets in the Wind 💧🐑
Showed Up in Boots 💧🐑
Requested: “Any other lies left to tell me?” and “Are they really ‘just a friend’?” 💧
Requested: “Why are you acting like this?” 💧🩸
Requested: “I hope your day gets better.” and “You know, you can stay if you want to.” 🐑
Requested: Soulmate AU where it is impossible to lie to your soulmate 🐑
Fake Fic Title: Undercover Lover 🐑
Agent Brandy Universe: Featuring Statesman OC “Agent Brandy”
First, Time 🐑
Weapons Testing 🐑
Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)
Early Mornings 🔥
Passing the Test 🐑
Tiktok Dancing 🐑
Requested: Soulmate AU, matching soulmarks 🐑
Requested: Soulmate AU, dream sharing 🔥
Fake Fic Title: Chalk Tasting Hearts 🐑
Marcus Pike (The Mentalist)
Broken Art 💧🐑
Sunflowers and Pink Roses 💧🐑
Requested: “Let’s just sit in tonight.” and Thigh Riding 🔥
Requested: Soulmate AU where everyone has a “soul animal” that only they and their soulmate can see 🐑
Max Phillips (Bloodsucking Bastards)
XXX-Mas 🔥
Picking up the Pieces - Max Phillips Edition 💧🐑
Who’s The Boss 🔥
HC: Max helping you with a migraine 🐑
Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)
Doing Business 🔥
Picking up the Pieces - Max Lord Edition 💧🐑
Working Late 🔥
Fake Fic Title: Conflict of Interest 💧🐑
Requested: “Stay Over” 🐑
Poe Dameron (Star Wars)
Best Laid Plans 🐑
Bittersweet 💧
Picking up the Pieces - Poe Dameron edition 💧🐑
Think Happy Thoughts 💧🔥
Drabble: Being Poe’s Hairdresser 🐑
Requested: “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?” 🐑
Requested: “ Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” 💧
Requested: “I’m right here.” 🐑
Requested: “You’re hurt. Please just let it heal.” 💧
Requested: Soulmate AU where you cannot feel lust or sexual desire until you meet your soulmate. 🐑
Misc. Characters
Blue Jones (Sucker Punch)
My Eyes Only 🐑🔥
Jonathan Levy (Scenes From a Marriage)
Attraction and Other Subjectivities 🔥
Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)
Bug in the System 💧🐑
Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones)
Requested: “Go back to sleep.” 🐑
Santiago Garcia (Triple Frontier)
Requested: “I was just thinking about you.” and “I want you to have this.” 🐑
Pedro Boys Collections
Pregnancy Announcement HCs 💧🐑
Other Links of Interest
300 Followers Celebration - custom AUs created for followers who wrote in
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
For the fanfic writer ask game… 2, 7, and 10! 🤗
2. What fanfic do you wish you got more response on?
Probably the second part to any fic I've written. I get a lot of people in comments and in my inbox asking about a second part to stuff I've written and then it takes me a long time to write them and I don't get as big of a reaction from those same people who asked to see a second part. I get that people lose track of the stuff they've read but I'm always worrying that the second part didn't live up to the first and that's why they flop 😬
7. What’s a trope you love to write?
Answered this one already but to really amplify the pining I love fake dating and arranged marriage AUs so so so much
10. What are your top five fics by kudos or by reads
Going by notes, my Eddie Munson fics are the most popular by a lot. The top ones are:
Second Chances at First Times
Body Electric
Jealousy, Jealousy
Let Me Be Good to You
Payback
fic writer asks
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
andivebeenaforestfire
Toska
filth-glam-horror
Welcome To My Freak Show
cahayahukum
Penghukum
patttpescador
Patrick Pescador
svampiartz
Svampiartz Art