#i need to work on my sleep schedule its almost seven am lmao
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exhibit a (detective mongomery)
ao3
more songwriter!eddie can be found here
more songwriting/poetry; mildly nsfw bc eddie is eddie
***
Jeff has a theory.
Gareth agrees with the theory, though he's less confident about it, and Ian disagrees, though he's expressed that there's a chance Jeff may be right.
The theory is that Eddie fucking Munson has a boyfriend.
And Jeff has evidence.
EXHIBIT A: THE RING
Jeff notices that one of Eddie's rings is missing one day.
Granted, it's not the most concrete of evidence, because Eddie is Eddie, so Jeff assumes that he forgot it. Dropped it between his bed and his bedside table and just couldn't be assed to fish it out or to move his furniture. Maybe he was fidgeting with it in the car and dropped it to the ground and forgot about it by the time he got to Gareth's.
So he doesn't say anything.
But the next time he sees him, he isn't wearing it again.
So maybe he dropped it in a crack in a porch and couldn't reach it.
But if that were the case, Jeff feels like Eddie would have complained about it by now. Eddie once proclaimed that bitching is one of his favorite hobbies, along with getting stoned and sucking dick (at the same time or not, which he clarified after Ian questioned it), and the last time he misplaced a ring, he wouldn't shut up about it for three days until Wayne found it in the laundry basket. But maybe Eddie is just maturing. (Hah.)
They're in Jeff's living room, bantering and fucking around, the music from Jeff's record player low so they can hear each other, and as Eddie is watching Gareth and Ian bicker like he's watching a tennis match (not that he'd ever watch a tennis match), looking back and forth and back and forth, Jeff sees him reach for his ring finger, fingers poised to twist it around the way he usually does. The ring isn't there, obviously, and Eddie glances down like he's forgotten, and then a brief smile flashes across his face for a moment before he looks up and shouts that Ian is right, and Gareth, shut the fuck up.
And Jeff wonders.
EXHIBIT B: THE BASKETBALL
Eddie and Wayne live in a new apartment in town. (New being relative. It's a little run-down, with creaky floors and squeaky doors, but it's new to them.) Eddie's room is smaller than it was in the trailer, but Wayne has his own room in the apartment now, with an actual bed instead of a pull-out sofa.
Eddie's room is practically the same. Messy and covered in posters and tapestries and cut-out photos from magazines. His desk is covered in D&D pamphlets and character sheets, messy sketches of characters that he started and forgot about, uncapped pens and markers that must be dry by now. There are clothes covering the floor, hiding the fuzzy rug, and the blankets of his bed are always cast aside, almost falling off the bed because apparently Eddie throws them aside in the morning (or afternoon, depending on the day).
Eddie is searching for the weed he was supposed to bring to Ian's, and Jeff is waiting, leaning against the doorframe, watching as he rummages through some drawers.
"I swear I have it."
"I believe you," Jeff says dryly. "There's gotta be weed in here somewhere." Eddie shoots him a look, sticking out his tongue. He keeps rambling, I thought I fucking put it in here, I don't know how I get all these drawers confused, there aren't even that many, Jesus Christ, and Jeff looks around the room. There's a new poster of Bowie on the wall near his window. Jeff eyes it. It's not really Eddie's style, but Jeff's heard Eddie talk about how hot he is.
He looks at his blankets as Eddie rummages through another drawer. His bed wasn't raised when they were in the trailer, but he has a new bedframe, and now he has boxes and bags and a pizza box and... Is that a basketball?
Jeff looks at Eddie, who has his back to him, groaning as he tosses things aside onto the floor, and he steps to the side, tilting his head to see the orange ball that's partially hidden by a striped blanket that's falling off the bed. Jeff raises an eyebrow.
Eddie Munson has never voluntarily played a sport in his life. Jeff knows it. Gareth and Ian know it. The queen of England knows it. There is no reason for there to be a basketball in his bedroom. Unless it's someone else's. Someone he hasn't mentioned to them.
"Got it!"
Eddie stands, holding up the baggie triumphantly, grinning as he turns to Jeff.
"You really to stop losing illicit substances."
"'S fine," Eddie says, swaying to turn off the light. Jeff glances at the basketball one more time before following him out of the room.
"You're gonna get in trouble one of these days."
"Nah," Eddie says easily, still grinning, and he turns to face Jeff, walking backwards and spreading his arms like a challenge. "I'm immune, baby."
Jeff rolls his eyes, fighting a smile.
"What have I said about calling me baby?"
"Oh my god, it's a general term, I'm not calling you baby, it's just--"
EXHIBIT C: THE EXCUSES
"I forgot I need to help Wayne sort out some boxes before he leaves for work," Eddie says, swinging his guitar over his back. He's still a little out of breath, his hair falling from where it's tied up, exposing the scar around his neck. He won't talk about it. They don't ask. "I'll see you guys later."
"You guys aren't done unpacking?" Gareth asks before he guzzles some water.
"You know Wayne," Eddie says. "He'd put off unpacking for five more years if I didn't volunteer to help."
He's cheerful, going around and smacking loud kisses to their cheeks. Ian grins when he gets to him. He's always liked the affection that Eddie gives out so freely.
"Have you noticed he's been doing that a lot lately?" Ian asks as Eddie's van is pulling out of Gareth's driveway. Eddie rolls his window down and flips them the bird. They do it back. He cackles.
"God, yes," Jeff says, grateful he's not the only one.
"Doing what?" Gareth asks.
"'I have to help Wayne unpack,'" Ian repeats. "'I said I'd help old man Cooper fix his A/C. Henderson needs a ride to an appointment. Little Sinclair is going to the salon and her mom can't take her.'"
Gareth stares at him.
"How can you remember that all word for word but you don't remember when my birthday is?"
"...July--"
"No."
"Fuck. I don't know, my brain's weird. Anyway, he's been doing it a lot lately."
"Yeah," Jeff says, smiling after watching the interaction. (Gareth's birthday is in June.) "I mean, it's not like it's every time we hang out, so I'm not, like, offended or anything, but it's more often than he used to."
Gareth pauses as he spins his drumsticks, holding the door open for them to go inside.
"Do you think it has to do with... everything?"
Everything is code for Eddie going missing and being framed for three murders.
"I don't know," Jeff sighs, swinging open the fridge and finding a bottle of soda before he passes it to Ian. "He seems to have actual stuff to do, like with Erica and Dustin, but if he is lying, I mean... He's gotta have a reason to, right?"
Ian cracks open the soda, leaning against the counter.
"And if it has to do with everything, then, like... I don't know. I don't wanna, like. Pry."
"Yeah," Gareth says.
Jeff agrees. Eddie's been keeping quiet about the whole thing ever since he got discharged from the hospital. He's lost his memory, doesn't remember a lot of what happened, but they've seen him get lost in space, seen him breathe so shallowly it barely looks like he's breathing at all. These episodes (Jeff doesn't know what else to call them) sometimes last a few minutes. The first one was after they played Master of Puppets together for the first time. Eddie had learned it himself on guitar, but when they played it all together in Gareth's garage, he played for about fifteen seconds before he stopped abruptly, his eyes wide and trained on some spot on the ground. It scared the shit out of all of them.
He snapped out of it after a minute, blinking and startling and looking around at them gathered around them, and he was suddenly pale and shivering and holding his side like he had a cramp from running, and when they worriedly asked what happened, he just said in a rough voice I don't really like that song. He left after Jeff forced a bottle of water into his hands.
He's covered in scars. He has a skin graft on his chest, and when they asked about it, about what the fuck is going on? he just shrugged and said, "You know how much I paid for that zombie head?" in reference to the tattoo that's mostly covered in scar tissue now.
He doesn't want to tell. So they don't ask.
"Do you guys think..." Jeff hesitates, sipping his own soda, hopping up on the counter next to where Ian is leaning. "Do you guys think he might be seeing someone?"
They blink at him.
"Why the fuck would we think he might be seeing someone?" Ian asks, almost smiling.
"He..." Jeff hesitates again, realising how dumb the ring and basketball seem. Eddie loses shit. Maybe he forgot. Lucas plays basketball, and Jeff knows he and Eddie are pretty close now. Maybe he just convinced Eddie to help him practice. "I don't know."
But Gareth is nodding, staring at the ground, frowning.
"No, I can see that."
"You can?" Ian says.
"I mean, he's probably not, but it kinda makes sense. He's been ditching more lately, he's all smiley all the time. Et cetera."
"I don't know," Ian says, grimacing, but Jeff nods.
"He's smiling so much," he says, pointing at Gareth with his bottle. "Especially, like, in the past few weeks."
"Right?"
"Maybe he's just recovering," Ian says.
Oh.
Gareth and Jeff look at each other, wincing.
"Maybe."
"Maybe."
EXHIBIT D: THE HUMMING
Jeff leans back in his desk chair, lifting his legs up onto his desk, pulling his comic book closer to his face. He should probably get his eyes checked.
Eddie is laying upside down on Jeff's bed, his head hanging off as he draws in a notebook. (Jeff's never understood how he does it; his head hanging off the edge of the bed, holding up a notebook in front of his face, drawing without a care in the world.) It's quiet.
Jeff flips the page of his comic book, careful not to bend the pages, but as he's looking at the first panel, he hears the distinct, low rumble of Eddie's voice. He looks up, thinking for a split second that Eddie is speaking to him, but he's just humming. He does that a lot. He doesn't even notice himself doing it.
Jeff looks back at the comic book, listening, but he pauses again, looking up at the wall in front of himself as he furrows his brows, listening closer until he recognizes the song. He doesn't know the name of it, but he's pretty sure it's by Tears for Fears.
Tears for fucking fears.
Jeff looks at Eddie, who's still drawing, the notebook wavering as he looks at it, and after another minute, he moves, rolling over and shifting to lay on his stomach, setting the notebook down in front of himself. His brows are furrowed in focus, lips pouting a little bit, but he doesn't stop humming, and Jeff narrows his eyes.
He doesn't know anyone that listens to Tears for Fears. Maybe Dustin, but Eddie would probably, definitely tell him to shut it off because he has a musical superiority complex. (Jeff has no idea what Lucas listens to, and Mike probably listens to the same stuff as Eddie. Ian and Gareth both like rock and metal, and Erica probably listens to Cyndi Lauper or something.)
But here Eddie is, about a minute into a Tears for Fears song that Jeff can't even name, humming softly, happily to himself.
And Jeff wonders who the fuck Eddie is allowing to listen to, is tolerating listening to, Tears for Fears in Eddie's presence. And often enough that Eddie apparently knows the words.
It happens again the next week while they're all at Gareth's house, sitting in the kitchen and helping Gareth's mom make dinner. Jeff is peeling carrots, passing them to Eddie to chop, and Mrs Emerson's radio is playing, sitting on the windowsill. It's just on some Top 40s type station, which Eddie tolerates for Mrs Emerson because she tolerates their band practice in her garage.
The song fades out and there's a moment of quiet static, accompanied by Eddie's knife on the cutting board, the smooth sounds of the peeler, the clinking of the dishes that Gareth is putting away, the clicking of the stove turning on as Ian follows Mrs Emerson's directions. The next song starts, and Jeff passes the naked carrot to Eddie, pushing the peels to the side where he's collecting them to give to Gareth's dog.
He pauses the peeling when he hears Eddie's low hum, under his breath, and he stares at the carrot, listening before he slowly turns to look at him. He's just chopping the carrots, as easily as he always does, scooping them onto the knife and pouring them into the salad bowl next to him, humming and humming.
His voice is lower than the singer's voice, and it harmonizes nicely, but Jeff doesn't know what to think.
He glances over his shoulder across the kitchen, catching Ian's eye as he's mixing something in a bowl, also frozen and staring at Eddie.
Toto? Ian mouths at Jeff, looking more confused than he's ever looked, and Jeff shrugs, wide-eyed. Gareth leans up next to Ian, staring at Eddie's back intently before he looks at Jeff and mouths What the fuck?
Jeff shrugs again.
They don't say anything.
Eddie never notices that he's humming.
Jeff can't stop thinking about it, about what kind of person Eddie would listen to pop music for. He has a boyfriend. There's no way it can be anyone else.
EXHIBIT E: THE SONG LYRICS
Eddie is the main songwriter of the band. They all trust him with it all, and add their own bits and pieces when they play all together, like a drum solo for Gareth, and his lyrics changed a bit when he came back after everything.
His words were more intense, less literal. One lyric sings about the sky turning red, and the silhouettes of monsters. One song was called Batshit, about demon bats with steak knife tails. One sings about a girl with curly hair and a sawed-off shotgun, and another girl with vodka bottles and a lighter.
Save the world, save my life,
Get your guns, I'll get my knife.
Cut the shit, ignore the scythe
And blow that shit to pieces
He sings about carnivorous flowers and flickering lights, about floating girls and broken bones, about blood-stained ceilings and sneakers and a bottomless lake.
Oh, it's a nightmare I'm living
God, the world's flipped inside out
There's spiders in my veins
I feed them coffee and self-doubt
And then after a while, the vibes shift. He still sings about it all, about the fantasy, nightmarish world that comes up time and time again, but then he shows up with lyrics about a boy.
A boy. No one by name, or by description, almost just the idea of a boy rather than an actual one. When they ask who the lyrics are about, he gives them a Who knows? shrug, and Jeff's suspicions might as well be confirmed.
Some are sexual, very Eddie-esque, about lungs filled with smoke and mouths filled with cock, about the taste of sin on his tongue and hair tangled in rings. About being roughed up and cuffed up, the bite of metal around wrists, about being watched and known. Something about if they knew what we knew, they wouldn't care at all.
Others are sweeter, which just confirms Jeff's suspicions even more. Some sing about soft hair and sparkly eyes, about going stargazing by staring at his skin.
Kiss me 'til I'm flushed all red
I wanna be your favorite color, baby
Eddie smiles while they go through the lyrics all together, his cheeks pink, but they still don't say anything.
EXHIBIT F: THE HICKEY
"Afternoon, fellas," Eddie says brightly, hopping into the room, dropping his bag on the ground next to where Ian is sitting and headbutting him affectionately. Ian beams. "How we doing?"
They talk as he gets sorted, finding his place on Gareth's bed between Ian and Gareth, laying on his back so his head is hanging over the edge, upside down, his hair falling. It almost touches the ground. He laughs at something Gareth says, but Jeff doesn't hear it, because from where he's sitting he has the perfect view of Eddie's neck.
Hence he has the perfect view of the purplish-red bruise above the collar of his t-shirt, and Jeff finally can't stop himself.
"Eddie."
"Hm?"
He turns his head to look at him, and the second their eyes meet, Jeff knows he knows. Eddie's eyes widen, and he slowly reaches to his shirt collar, pulling it up (down?) so it covers the bruise.
"Is there something you want to share with us?"
"...No?"
"What's going on?" Gareth asks, watching them.
"Eddie has a hickey."
"Jeff!"
"You wore a loose t-shirt, did you think we weren't gonna see it?"
Eddie just groans obnoxiously, throwing his arms up to cover his face, and Jeff grins when he sees how red he is. Ian laughs, reaching out to poke at his legs, ignoring the way Eddie is kicking at him.
"Eddie-e-e," Gareth sings. "Who is it?"
"It's no one, fuck off."
"Edmund. Edward. Eduardo."
"Oh my god."
He pushes himself to sit up, avoiding their eyes, and he sits at the edge of the bed, turning a little to make sure Jeff can see him too.
"Okay," he says, huffing. "I..."
"Who is it?" Gareth prompts. Jeff is beaming. He loves being right.
"I can't... I can't give you a name, he's not... out." Eddie's looking down at his lap.
"Okay," Gareth says, still waiting. "Is he your boyfriend?"
"...Yeah."
"Is he the reason you listen to Toto and shit now?" Jeff says, and Eddie looks up at him, his hair flying.
"I don't listen to Toto and shit," he says defensively. "He listens to Toto and shit and I allow it because I love him--"
Ian and Gareth let out identical shouts, and Jeff's eyes and grin widen. Eddie turns redder, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and covering his face.
"You love him?" Gareth says loudly, reaching out to rustle his hair. "Love?"
"Shut up," Eddie groans, but he's starting to smile under his hands as they all laugh.
"Why?" Ian asks.
"Why do I love him?"
"Yeah."
Eddie sighs heavily, rolling over the edge of the bed and falling to the ground with a heavy thud that makes them laugh again. He lies on his back, laying starfished on the ground and looking at the ceiling, eyes wide and dreamy.
"He's just... He's so great. He's beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. And funny as hell, even though he doesn't even try to be. And he's... kind. Like really, genuinely kind, and-- and selfless. He loves his friends, he'd do anything for them." He pauses, his smile faltering for a moment, tilting his head. "He makes me feel safe."
They're all quiet. Eddie hasn't gushed about any of his crushes in ages, not since Steve Harrington graduated. (And, God, wasn't that a time. Eddie was bitter about it, about how much he liked him, but every time someone brought him up, Eddie would turn into a blushing, smiling mess. Embarrassing.)
"Was he involved in everything?" Ian asks softly, and Eddie swallows, blinking at the ceiling, his face going a little blank. That happens every time it comes up. Everything. He'll zone out or look distant, and his voice will become a little empty in a way that makes Jeff feel sick.
"Yeah," Eddie says, blinking again. He takes a deep breath, and he looks like he's trying to stay there, in his body. "He's... He's the reason I'm alive."
They're quiet.
"Shit," Gareth says succinctly.
"Yeah."
"He's good to you?" Jeff asks.
Eddie sighs, smiling again.
"He's so good to me. He listens to me talk nonstop about D&D and shit even though he doesn't know anything about it, and he asks me questions, and he shows me stuff that he likes and he always looks so excited that I just... Like. Can't help but like it too."
"Is the basketball his?"
Eddie lifts his head, squinting at him.
"You saw that?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, it's his."
"Did you give him your ring?"
"Jesus, are you a fucking detective?"
Jeff grins. Eddie lays his head back down.
"Yeah, I gave it to him."
"Wait," Gareth says, leaning over the edge of the bed, looking at Eddie. "I didn't see the hickey, lemme see."
"Absolutely not."
"Lemme see-e-e..."
----------------------------------------------------------
It's Friday night at the Hideout. They've been getting bigger crowds since Eddie's charges were dropped, metalheads and weirdos coming from across the state to see Eddie Munson live on stage, with his wild hair and scarred neck.
They're nearing the end of their setlist, pausing to drink water, grinning and laughing across the stage. Eddie is having a blast. He hasn't stopped beaming, even as he sings about hell and a house on fire. Jeff wonders if his face is sore from smiling.
The next song is called Midas. Jeff assumes it's about Eddie's boyfriend. It's heavy, bold and screamy. It makes Eddie's voice rough, but he doesn't seem to care at all.
Would you let me kneel at your feet
and press my lips to your ring?
Would it bring you a spark of joy?
Will your smile make the clouds sing?
Jeff looks into the crowd, squinting in the blinding fluorescent lights, and he feels fucking alive here, like the music is coursing through his veins, like every shout from the crowd is rejuvenating him. His eyes scan the front row, looking at the girls with dark makeup and the boys will long hair, at the leather jackets and denim vests and pins that flash under the lights and-- Is that Steve fucking Harrington?
Jeff almost falters, but he looks away from the boy, keeps playing, pretends he isn't there, but he can't help but look back by the next verse, his propped up as he plays. It sure looks like Harrington, complete with the floppy hair, but there's no way Steve Harrington is in the front row of a metal show, wearing a battle vest and smiling. The lights are flashing, running over the crowd like water, and Jeff can't see clearly, and it can't be.
My man with his holy touch
Won't you turn my heart to gold?
Press your hands into my chest
My heart is yours to hold
Eddie's voice is breaking, and Jeff glances at him, curious if he's seen the Steve look-alike in the front row, the Steve look-alike that seems to be beaming up at him, wide-eyed, but Eddie's eyes are squeezed shut as he sings and strums his guitar.
Take my hand baby, make me yours
My beautiful king Midas
They'll tell us gold's a sin, but
They can't stop what's inside us
Jeff's ears are ringing when it's all over, when they get off the stage to talk with some people. (It feels weird to call them fans. They aren't fans, Corroded Coffin isn't big enough to have fans.) Some people that work at the Hideout are moving the equipment, taking the drums and guitars and amps, and Jeff is sitting at the edge of the stage, talking with a girl that sat toward the back of the bar. She's holding a beer bottle, and she has a beautiful smile, but even as she talks to him, he can't help but realise that Eddie is nowhere in sight.
So he excuses himself politely, slipping past her and finding his way backstage, looking around until he opens a door, and Eddie has his back to the wall, holding a boy against himself. A boy with bare, scar-covered arms, wearing a denim vest, with floppy brown hair that's twisted around Eddie's fingers as Eddie groans loudly because the boy is slipping a leg between Eddie's, and it's nearly filthy, the sounds they're making, because they're licking into each other's mouths, groaning and whining and murmuring and Jeff can't look away.
"Fuck, Stevie," Eddie chokes as the boy buries his face in Eddie's neck, and--
"Oh my god."
Eddie and Steve part with startled shouts, detaching and stumbling as they both flush red and look at Jeff with wide eyes.
"Jeff, why?" Eddie says loudly, breathing hard.
"Uh." He blinks. "You're the one making out in a public place."
"Oh, Jesus." Eddie bends over, taking a deep breath, groaning. Steve is staring at Jeff, wide-eyed and terrified, and Jeff takes a moment to take him in. He's wearing eyeliner, smudged and dark around his eyes (sparkly eyes), and his hair is touselled, longer than it was in high school. He's wearing a black shirt under the battle best, and oh, that's Eddie's vest. His jeans are light blue and fitted, and his hands are shaking, and he has the same scar around his neck that Eddie has. Jeff's body is consumed with curiosity and confusion, but it doesn't matter, because Steve is shaking, and Eddie is taking his hand, squeezing.
"Jeff, can you keep your mouth shut about this?" Eddie asks, his eyes imploring, begging, and Jeff nods.
"I saw nothing," he says. "I don't even know where I am, I was just trying to find the bathroom."
Steve cracks a smile, and he's totally Eddie's type.
"Oh," Jeff says, blinking. "King Midas."
Steve's cheeks flush with color again, and Jeff says, "Oh, right, sorry," before he turns on his heal and walks out.
"Where'd you go?" Ian asks when he gets out to Eddie's van.
"Bathroom."
"Where's Eddie?"
"No idea, I couldn't find him. Dumbass probably got lost."
He's always been good at lying.
Eddie comes out after another ten minutes, looking a little touseled but no more so than he does after most gigs. He apologizes, and jokes that he got lost, and Gareth and Ian laugh. Eddie hops in the front seat, asks if they want to go to his place for drinks, and they all say yes. As they're headed to his apartment, crossing the parking lot, Eddie lingers back and speaks quietly to Jeff.
"He's, uhm. Gonna meet us at my place."
"I thought you guys were keeping this quiet."
"We are, mostly, he just... His best friend knows about us. And you know--"
"Sorry about that, by the way."
"No, it's..." Eddie shakes his head. "Not your fault, we were fully making out in a public place, we just, uhm."
"Were worked up," Jeff finished for him, and in the light of the streetlights above them, Eddie flushes red.
"...Yeah."
Jeff snickers and pokes at him.
"So he wants to... meet the guys?"
"Yeah. I talk about you a lot, so he said he trusts you guys if I do, and I do, so."
Jeff nods, smiling.
"He's pretty cool."
"He's a prep, Jeff, he's adorable."
"I cannot believe your type is normies."
"Shut up."
When Steve shows up, he lets himself in. He has a key.
"Hi."
Ian and Gareth both look up at him from where they're sitting on the sofa, glancing him up and down, recognizing him, questioning him, wondering.
"Hi?"
"So, uhm..." Eddie goes to stand next to Steve, his eyes shining at him like he's asking something silently, and Steve nods a little bit, taking a breath. "Ian, Gareth, Jeff. Steve." He gestures to all of them, and Steve waves awkwardly. Jeff sees Eddie's ring on his finger.
"Hi," Ian and Gareth say again. Jeff lifts his chin up at him, smiling when their eyes meet.
"Uh." Eddie pauses, gesturing to Steve again. "...Boyfriend."
Ian and Gareth both blink, and Jeff grins, watching the gears turn in their head.
"Oh," Ian says. "Cool."
Gareth stares for a second before,
"I cannot believe you got with your high school crush after high school."
Steve beams.
He ends up going to Eddie's room and coming back in Eddie's clothes, in a sweater and some sweatpants, and they sit on the floor together as the guys ask them questions. They skirt their way around some of them, without even glancing at each other to figure out what the other will say, It's like they're perfectly in tune with each other. Eddie plays with Steve's fingers while they all talk.
Jeff can tell that Ian and Gareth are also surprised but are keeping it under wraps. Surprised that King Steve is the boy Eddie was talking about when he described his boyfriend's kindness, selflessness, bravery, when he said He makes me feel safe, but even now it's obvious that it's true. Eddie leans up against him and holds his arm, gazes at him and kisses his shoulder for no reason. He's in love.
Jeff tells Eddie later all the clues he gave without meaning, and he realises the Bowie poster was a clue after hearing Steve humming Heroes. Oh well. He was still right.
#i need to work on my sleep schedule its almost seven am lmao#anyway#this was fun#jeff <333#corroded coffin#corroded coffin boys#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steddie#steddie fanfic
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Ask Game: Any number that has been asked yet.
oof ope sorry I missed this! I've got a ton of homework (school started up again :/ one year left tho!), but I'm going to take a moment to get this out of my ask box!!
No one ever asked about Operation Bummer, which I really only like for the name tbh. It's a blues story. BubsxBoomer = Bummer. get it?? listen, it's funny, okay? trust me. it should be their pairing name but not one ever listens to me 🙄
Okay, so let me set the stage:
Bloss: she's home for the summer :( and she doesn't want to be. She's going into her sophomore year of undergrad somewhere on the east coast, and like most almost sophomores from prestigious schools, she thinks she knows everything.
Bubbles: studying to be a Spanish teacher! Also a sophomore, but going to TownU in Townsville. Has a huge huge huge crush on her Spanish partner Pablo, but he breaks her heart early on, and she's taking it out on every guy she knows.
Butters: not in college. Didn't know what to do with her life, so she just stayed home. Acting super sus. And now constantly smells like cupcakes (??) as opposed to sweat and dirt. (She's still bloody tho?) Idk it's just sus. She's also making *~pancakes~* more often!
Brick: "it's summertime, I've got my hat on backward, and it's time to party." (low-key high-key excited that Bloss is back for the summer because things were getting way too boring in Townsville without her to mess with)
Butch: Coming home every morning bruised, bloody, and PISSED. which isn't too abnormal, but he's not making them ~*waffles*~ anymore :/
Boomer: would like to make out with someone. is not making out with someone. horny.
The Quick and Dirty Plot Rundown:
the girls and the boys don't get along at all
the greens are in a suspiciously good mood until one day they're not
this affects both Blossom and Brick, respectively, because they've gotten quite used to their green sibling cooperating to their ever whim.
Separately, Bloss confronts Bubs, and Brick confronts Boomer. The reds are like "OMG somethings totally absolutely utterly wrong with [insert green sibling]. Aren't they acting totally strange???
the blues are both like lol no? [insert green sibling] is always grumpy. it was actually more weird that they were so uncharacteristically happy???
the red, respectively, are like, uh no [insert blue sibling], you are most definitely wrong. we need to investigate.
the blues and the reds end up figuring out that both the green siblings were acting weird through so happenstance--I'm thinking like a cheesy fight, where the greens don't allow their red siblings to blow a bunch of hot air and waste everyone's time. The reds are highly offended by this sentiment and start bitching about their siblings.
the reds somehow (in all their superior wisdom and intellect /s) are like "OMG wait! They must have been banging!" (Blossom doesn't say banging tho, that's Brick).
the blues are like uh no????????????????? they most definitely weren't.
the reds are like lol you two are so cute they definitely were, secretly because they thought we'd be mad, and then they broke up, and now they're fighting like exes, and this doesn't benefit us anymore because no one's making pancakes/waffles in the morning, and the reason breakfast isn't happening is because they're so upset about the break-up. (Brick really really hits the waffle thing and everyone ends up being like OK dude we GET it. and again, he's like no you don't.)
Blues are like srsly guys this is a real stretch
((because it is. the greens weren't/aren't dating.))
reds are like lmao shut up we're getting them back together. (it's also hinted that the reds are a little bored)
so the reds make up all these crazy schemes to get the greens together again and force the blues to execute the plans! Why the blues? well, the reds obviously can't execute the plans because as Brick states, "coaches don't play." Anyhow, the reds are too busy trying to one-up each other to honestly care if their plans work.
And because they honestly don't care, the plans keep backfiring.
for real, the greens don't like each other so ofc the plans aren't working on them. You wanna know who the plans are working on tho???
yeah.
lmao.
the blues.
the plans are going so horribly wrong that the blues bond over how pointless the project is. Boomer's like, "why am I the dumb one again?" and Bubbles like, "lmao dude mood." And then as time progresses, they start to have fun with it.
during the "dinner and a movie," they initiate a popcorn fight in the middle of a cheesy romcom
during the "whoa did I just randomly run into you at the mall?? Plan," they have fun trying to outdo each other at the shitty arcade games.
At the carnival, they stuff their faces with concession stand food and ride all the rides until they get sick (and end up holding hands on the Ferris wheel "accidentally")
you can see where this is going right? A bunch of cute dates where the blues learn the importance of "not judging a book by its cover" and "listen you wanted to make out with someone, it might as well be your sworn enemy, they're not doing anything important today anyway."
I'm so gross, I literally plan a "seven minutes in heaven" scene just because I can.
Sorry, I digress.
Obviously, the blues are getting cozy, the reds are fighting, and the greens are getting hella suspicious. Rather simultaneously, the greens corner their respective blues and (in boomer's case) beat the info out of them.
The reds "brilliant" idea unravels fast. Turns out, Butch was pissy because he was having trouble beating this new guy that just randomly popped up in the underground fighting ring he was participating in
buttercup is pissy because she's trying to keep the little bakery she secretly works part-time at open by making a extra cash on the side. To do so she started participating in this underground fighting ring, and Butch is getting a little too close for comfort in terms of discovering her true identity. She also has an inconsistent sleep schedule and it's making her a little nutty.
the "truce" ends
things go back to "normal"
the end?
nope.
Buttercup's like, "hey bloss--
"--is there something off about Boomer?" Butch asked Brick.
What, no, you're crazy, [insert blue sibling] is always like this, says the red sibling
Shockingly, the reds are wrong again.
The blues are heartbroken. They don't get to go out on their "dates" anymore, they don't get to have fun anymore, and most importantly, there's no more making out :((((
The greens--incredibly astute for a bunch of dumb angry jocks--put two and two together fast, and are like, "oh fuck off for real?? We're seriously doing this?? We're seriously going to play matchmaker??"
they both agree no no they'll absolutely not do that! Not at all! No way! No freakin--oh no is [insert blue sibling] crying?
So, ANYWAY, boom! Operation Bummer is in full swing all over again. The greens put aside their differences to help their favorite blue siblings because there's nothing worse than seeing a blue sibling pout.
The greens are definitely like "this is really going to make our strictly working relationships so weird, but whatever, if they break up, then things just go back to normal anyway."
They threaten the reds :) confront the blues :) get them back together so they'll finally stop crying :) tentatively smooth things over with their parental figures :) and then, when peace is finally achieved, the greens go right back to fighting each other like HIM intended :)
(but ya know, after everything they've been through, maybe now when they fight, they avoid punching each other in the face. it doesn't mean anything. it isn't like they like each other or anything. that would be soooo stupid...lol unless--)
#outline ask game#my outline#operation bummer#my writing#this one will be fun to write ngl#so i actually should write it#the reds are in some weird ass co-dependent [EMOTION REDACTED] relationship#the greens are like#bitch if i see you in the street your ass is dead#the blues are 10/10 ready to bone anything that can walk and well...country girls make do.#ppg fic outlines
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Hello hello, hope you're doing well, may I request a matchup please?(hopefully im not late lmao)
Fandom: epic seven
Preference: males
My type : (kayron is my type lmao) harsh on outside mushy as molten chocolate on the inside
Hobbies: art, writing (barely), baking.
Habits:
Drinking too much coffee
I tend to be a bit pushy sometimes
Two moods: do everything way ahead of schedule or do it last minute
Sometimes I'm busy so I'm just like : my medicine sure can wait another hour
I shower with cold water during the winter and when I catch a cold I always go surprised pikachu face like I seriously wasn't the reason
Step 1: go to fridge for snack, step 2: open fridge, step 3: no snack, step 4: go to room, step 5: let 3 minutes pass then do it again as if the fridge is gonna give birth to food
"I'll just draw for 15 minutes then I sleep" proceeds to stay up till 5 am then raise my head up and realise I got a neck cramp from staying in awkward position for too long
Getting a new food bowl for my dog randomly and seeing her question what new entity it is and if it is hostile or not (its funny af to watch sometimes I wake up at 2 am to her barking at a bowl and I start laughing I dont even need to change it I just do it cause her reaction is soo adorable
Its either I sleep with jeans or im a weakling, I'm not a weakling
I always have that one sketch book that I keep locking in a drawer just in case a friend stumbles on it and finds it, in case you are wondering why, its that sketch you don't want anyone to see for very obvious reasons
Thanks as always, take care and enjoy he rest of your day ♡
I match you with...
okay hear me out this is more of a discussion- BUT- he and kayron are the same type of person except this one is has such loyalty to schniel that- anyways, he is like kayron but less violent. yes, that is the main point here. this man understands (logically) why you drink so much coffee but also does not understand (emotionally). he just is always on that schedule. does not mind if you're pushy or anything he's dealt with idiots that almost get themselves badly injured unnecessarily more times than someone just being pushy. he has the patience of like, a dead dinosaur (aka a lot of patience)- unless someone is dying then uh, he'll be rushing to save them. he doesn't understand procrastination. he just does work as it is done and when he is done he moves onto something else there's always something to do. it's a topic to ponder upon (when you procrastinate) he also ponders upon the dog and her new items. it's simply amusing
this man also just like, is a decent cook and will cook when there is no food. he learned decently and didn't find much joy in it but he'd enjoy making it for you. he food he makes does taste good though ngl. if he sees you up late he'll literally shut off your light and say that it's time to sleep. literally, this man makes the decision that it is too late to be awake and simply acts on it. ... no comment on the jeans
ah. yes. that one. tywin pretends it doesnt exist <3
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Quarantine Questions
@comradegrantaire tagged me. Thanks!
Are you staying home from work/school? I’ve been working from home for seven weeks. People are trying to open things up again though, so I don’t know how long it’s going to last.
If you’re staying home, who’s there [without] you? Just me and the cat. We’ve actually bonded a lot! And it’s obvious now that part of her being a little shit was because she was lonely. So it’s possible I’ll soon be staying at home with two cats! (Thinking of fostering before adopting.)
Are you a homebody? So much so. I’m definitely one of the people who had almost no change to their schedule outside of work. Also, right before this all started I moved from the middle of the city to way, way out in the burbs. There isn’t as much to do even if I wanted to.
What movies have you watched recently? What shows are you watching? I’ve binged so much reality tv holy shit. (Needed background noise/visuals while writing.) I’ve finished Hoarders, 90 Day Fiance, I Am a Killer. Rewatched Good Omens and all of FMA and the wrap-up film. Finally watched Bird Box. And this week I’ve been binging Bob’s Burgers. (Side note: I’d only ever seen talk of how great its queer rep is, so the transphobia early on blindsided me.)
An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled? Other people’s plans for my bday got cancelled. The real tragedy was that I’ve had tickets to the Anastasia musical for nine months and have wanted to see it since it was announced even though I know they’ve changed some of the best bits and it will piss me off lmao.
What are you doing for self care? And that’s the million dollar question from my therapist every week. Trying to do the less glamorous self care like eating better, having good sleep hygiene, keeping my space clean; however, I’m also trying to be gentle with myself when I can’t do those things. Maintaining my boundaries between work and personal time. Also, playing/cuddling with the cat, connecting with people here, and writing fic.
I’m tagging @waltzing-with-my-inner-geek @bereasonablerenarin @writingghost @cantflyup @airstyledraconos (Only if you want to! And if anyone else wants to, go for it!)
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... apparently, these are becoming a weekly endeavor. (watch me getting an autoblock as soon as I post this) ( AO3 )
tl;dr Hawks is in high spirits (no pun intended), and Rumi’s Intrigued™
Meanwhile, somewhere not too far away, a vaguely annoyed Dabi is sneezing a whole lot, questioning whether his feeble ass is allergic to feathers.
(((I almost chose an angsty ending. Almost. But apparently I cannot do that with series and games that are not depression station in the first place, F.)))
“Say… you are in a reeeeeally good mood today, aren'tcha?” Rumi notes between two obnoxious milkshake slurps next to the remaining morsels of their lunch while taking a full round on the revolving barstool. It’s a Monday, it’s a conference day, a boring conference day where she’s about to kill herself out of sheer boredom… and Hawks, who’s usually also only present in body and ready to passive-aggressively tear the thing down, is radiating a hundred different levels and shades of sunlight. Of course she’s gonna jump on this.
“Huh?” the hero replies, returning to the present; the pen he’s got bouncing between two fingers while reading through the despair-inducingly thick paper pile in front of him (most likely invitations and offers of various kinds) never stops in its fast, metronome-like movement. The little smile that's been plastered over his face all day perks up a little as he looks at her, too. He’s obviously missed the question directed at him, but doesn't seem to be bothered by it.
“I said you are in a good fucking mood, twerp,” his friend repeats with a click of the tongue. Something’s definitely up. “And that you didn't catch it is all the damn proof I need. Haven't seen you this well-adjusted since… ever, actually.” Slurrrp.
“Aaah… guess so,” he muses with the rhythm slowing and a thoughtful expression for a change.
“I had the best fucking sleep ‘since ever’ is all.” The pause preceding this is uncharacteristically long, and his persistent smile returns before he even reaches the conclusion.
“You slept?” chortles Rumi in disbelief, then starts choking as some of the remaining milkshake finds its way to her lungs. The plausible fact that this alone could make him feel alive should not be this funny.
Hawks’ smile widens into a grin and he leans onto an elbow, shoving the documents aside. “Seven hours and thirteen whole-ass minutes, bitch. It's a new record!” It wasn't exactly that much, probably just under seven if he wanted to be honest. But point stands.
Once having regained composure, the heroine lets the information linger for a few seconds. Hmm. Hmmm… “Explains why you are functional and were late for the meeting. What it doesn’t explain is how you, Mr. 10 minutes ahead of everyone’s schedule… early bird extraordinaire… slept in.” That goofy expression is not his usual one, no. There's a snoop to be had, here. After a deep, deep, grin-ridden sigh, she turns back to him, leaning on the counter as well. “Has it got anything to do with dodging, like, all of my invitations lately? Hmm?” She wiggles her brows at him.
Man… she just went there, didn't she. Unfortunately, the persistent smile refuses to cover for him. In fact, it's more incriminating than anything, creeping wider once more. Well then. “Hasn't got as much to do with it as you would like, fam. There's only about… 15% of overlap.” Plus some change.
Maybe more, now that he thinks about it… because the disturbingly domestic (and even worse, occasionally comforting and enjoyable) shenanigans with the League have long outgrown the ‘meeting up with actual S-rank villains in my fake free time because spy lmao’ category. Rumi wouldn't buy that anymore, she's seen enough to know that he's full of shit.
There's a glint of a hunter’s in Rumi’s eyes… a hunter’s that has found fresh track. Her grin turns into a triumphant sneer. “So you do admit to seeing someone.”
The smile on Hawks’ face gains a streak of concern. “Please don't make me think about it in those terms,” he moans, furrowing his brows. “Any of the people I've been dealing with are freaks of nature.”
“So are we,” she notes, not missing a beat.
That earns a similarly fast fling-and-point of a pen in her general direction. “Word.”
She snickers. “Come on…! Tell me about that dreamy 15% that has you so pepped. I'm dying to know~”
He thinks about it for a bit. Then, the feathers of Hawks’ wings rustle, and he himself takes a gander around the restaurant; there's mostly heroes, sidekicks and managers gathered in the building in the first place, who are similarly disinterested in each other's dwindling lunch break times and private lives. While assessing the room, he's silently weighing his options as to how much he can say, and how he should choose his words.
“So… I've been roped into a kind of internship in the past months that I wanted nothing to do with, and am still hella iffy about,” he begins, keeping it just low enough for it to be not overly suspicious.
“Good start!”
“I know, right? Anyway… it's dirty work, but turned out to be tolerable, most of the time. The coworkers are all bonkers, but I've already come to the terrifying conclusion that I'm not all that different.”
“Took you long enough.”
“Hush, I'm telling your story…! Who you might be interested in, I think, is the contact person that keeps a close eye on me even today.”
“OOOH, this is getting spicy~ are they, like, twice your age? You are into older people, after all. Oh, and dude or lady? Other, maybe? You are being really cagey.”
“What did I just say?! Also, I'm not into older people. This peep is up to five years my senior, tops.”
“Never had to listen to yourself when going on about Endeavor, have you!? And see? You just admitted the peeper is older!”
“That’s fan rambling, and ever since I had to work with him, I have held my horses in check, hon. As for the other thing? Honestly, I never asked about their birthday or age, but I've been getting older sib vibes. Could be younger or as old as I am, for all I know. But let me fucking continue. SO… we've been getting along okay lately. Way too well, actually, considering the mutually hostile ~strictly professional~ gig we both started out with. Not that we're not assholes to each other still, but we are… like, frenemies.”
“Strangely mysterious person is already starting to sound like you.”
“…”
“Okay, Pot, okay!! Stop looking all disappointed and tell me about Kettle.”
“… Kettle will be a great stand-in name, thanks for the contribution. You are allowed to acknowledge this with a hum.”
“Mhmm.”
“Excellent. Back on topic… as you know, my yesterday… had been a thing.” For the first time that day, the smile disappears entirely.
Rumi hums again with a nod, which doesn't get shot down. From what Hawks was willing to share about family, it had been obvious that he wasn't on particularly good terms with his parents in the first place, but…
“Long story short, yesterday was also internship day, and I was in a pretty bad mood when we met. Tired, anxious, angry, you name it, I had it. Thankfully there's no news coverage, and I didn't want to bring it up, either… but Kettle… knows me well enough to tell when I’m faking it. And how to push my buttons. The prodding got the best of me, eventually; really, this irritating bitch can get under my skin with an efficiency you can only dream of… but anyway, I was so pissed... like, borderline feral, that even they were surprised. Which, in turn, made me feel like a wreck once I realized what I was doing. So they hammered the last nail into the coffin by putting on their calmest, most civil face, -a rarity, really,- to ask the single, logical question in that situation. And I caved. For a dreadful moment I honest to god thought Kettle would make fun of me, you know. What kind of number two hero has their mother stuck in detox every three months…? Fuck, if not for the bar fight, I wouldn't even know she relapsed two whole years ago already! But, uh… they… seemed to understand. We had a therapy session for peasants at my place, then. Kinda like what we have sometimes. And that's when it really got…” Tongue click. “… heavy.”
Rumi’s ears have been attentive and alert, but hearing this makes them part. She takes a second-long break; there's something that usually helps Hawks sleep a little better. And heart-to-hearts tend to push him over the brink, hell, some nights they do this just so he can get some rest. “… You cried.”
With some delay, he nods. “… I did.”
She lets out a tired sigh. “Managed to weird ‘em out, huh.”
“Actually… it ended up being a half drunk weeping contest for the emotionally constipated,” he muses, eyes staring into a scene from the past, located somewhere past the pen in his right hand. “They opened up a little to me, too. Which was new, but… comforting. I learned that while my mother frequents the station, Kettle’s mom has been hospitalized with a severe case of mental breakdown since they were a teen. They miss her… but cannot visit. They fear that showing their scarred face would make her relive the freak show that resulted in her being sent there in the first place.”
“ … Jesus. Both of you sound like the life of the party when running a hashtag-mood.”
The remark brings back the shadow of his happy smile. “I guess so. But, guess what?”
Hers returns as well; they reached the nice part. “What?”
“I ended up leaning onto Kettle… and them onto me. We hugged it out… and stayed like that for like an hour, the sniffling messes we were. And in the morning… I woke up in the arms of someone, warm and safe… sun shining into the room, little bastard relatives chirping outside. I could even smell fresh coffee being made someplace, coming from the open window. And that… that felt divine.”
Rumi takes a delighted sigh. “The life, bitch. That's… the life.”
“Yeah.”
They lie around like that for a few minutes, sprawled on the counter as the noises of the still busy restaurant creep back into their little bubble before it inevitably pops. Hawks breaks the comfortable silence then. “All in all… I admit that you have been right about me all along.”
Her feet bounce an increasingly impatient rhythm against the metal frame as her mood and blood pressure lift back to normal. “Right about what? You are a felon for not supporting pugs, an abomination for even daring to look at pineapple pizza, and an absolute disgrace for turning down ghost peppers! Be more clear, dammit.”
Hawks tosses the long forgotten pen onto the form pile and leans in closer, hiding his mouth with his hands from view. He breathes it in a whisper so low, only people with superhuman hearing or big ole rabbit ears could catch his voice right now. It’s time to make her day, too. “Rumi, I think… I'm hella gay.”
She reflexively does a little hop on the stool as a very high pitched “Holy shit…!” escapes her mouth, turning some heads. Seeing that it's the two of them up to their usual shenanigans, the few people return to their own worries and discussions.
It takes her inhuman effort not to screech like a hare on the spot; punching the air and gasping for it, she calms down eventually. Having found a semblance of self-restraint, she leans back down in, aggressively whispering to him: “First of all, told you so, and more importantly!! Bitch, you're in love, and didn't tell me?!”
As much as Hawks enjoyed watching her outburst, he finds himself sinking behind his arms now. The incessant grin is back in its full glory and is starting to hurt his cheeks, which have turned very pink in color. An unconvincing “nah” is the only thing he can muster.
Rumi breaks into some light-hearted cackling as she moves over, then gently peels Hawks’ defenses off of him to have a closer look. “Bruuuh…! You are in full rose textured shojo manga mode. That's adorable.”
There’s an attempt at rebuilding said defenses. “Shut it, you overgrown furry.”
She’s unperturbed by the lukewarm defensive taunt. “And you kinda smell like smoke from up close, too~ It’s your first love, right? Aaah, baby boy’s growing up, I’m so happy for you…!” With that, Hawks receives a spine shattering hug.
“Rumimyribs,” is all he can squeak before the gesture does more than just some joint popping. He’s had a near-death experience with these ever since the first time she did that, holy shit.
“Hee hee~ I didn’t forget you’ve got bones made of glass, don’t worry.” She pops back down onto her seat while Hawks gets over the scare. “Sooo... when are you gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?”
“It’s… just a crush, man. He’s… not my boyfriend…” Even thinking about it feels weird… and saying it… really is something else.
She nods. “He doesn’t know it yet! Gotcha.”
Siiigh. “Girl, I can’t just…” STOP, stop… hold the damn phone right there. Ending that sentence would birth more questions to dodge, and he’s not up for brain work at the moment. With a dismissive wave, Hawks restarts the answer. “Anyway, you've seen him already at the very least, so there’s that.” That's all she needs to know- they both know a number of people with fucked-up faces, she won’t admit possibly having missed him, and this… will destroy her.
“… well shit. Now I'll stay up at night wondering who the fuck it might be.”
Bingo. “You’re welcome.”
“Asshole,” she huffs, swatting his hair before settling for a good ruffling. “… say, baby bird.”
“Hm?”
“Want a drink? It's on me. Let's pop one in honor of your heart throb and first crush.”
... uh-oh. “… Rumi.”
“I hope you know this calls for some supreme shit… let me look for a good place nearby, for after this hell is over.”
She's already typing into her phone. Oh no.
“Rumi.” This does not bode well. He has so much shit to do tomorrow. And here’s this pile of junk, most of which he’s yet to have a look at…
“How’s a Zombie sound?”
“RUMI,,,”
#miruko#hawks#bnha miruko#bnha Hawks#dabihawks#even though Dabi's not here#bnha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#Kate writes
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