#she'd have artists she respects but no one really to look up to?
Note
You having a secret crush on ellie and you keep it to yourself but she finds your diary one day and she can't help herself so she reads it when you go to the bathroom
DEAR DIARY e.williams
☆ WORD COUNT - 3.4K
ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - you and ellie have been best friends for as long as you can both remember. she was the artist, you were the writer. you both respected one anothers hidden sketchbook and diary. until one day you're taking much too long in the shower and it's just... sitting there! ellie can't help herself and she finds out a little secret.
☆ WARNINGS - snooping? tinsey bit of angst if you can even call it that, touch starved reader, sort of loser!ellie a little, lil crying, petnames, use of y/n like once, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
for as long as you could remember, ellie had been your number one. she was your best friend in the entire world, you told her everything and she told you the same in return. okay maybe not... everything. there was one thing you'd been having an awful hard time keeping to yourself. though, you were sure it was much better in than out.
you and ellie were like an orange and black cat, you were fire and ice, the sun and moon, a writer and an artist.
ellie drew a lot. you'd seen multiple of her drawings before. you remembered the first time she'd doodled a frog onto your arm during a boring lecture from tommy and maria. she gave you a confused look to your state of shock. but you were merely surprised. sure, you knew she could draw. but you didn't know she was that good.
you were the writer. ellie was well aware of this. whether you had your laptop propped up on your knees, writing away or a pen in hand scrawling letters around the little pages. ellie always thought your handwritting was nice. it was much better than her fat chunky lettering that everyone always seemed to have trouble reading. she'd always watch the way your pen would dance across the page, so easily and smoothly. she was almost jealous.
you'd both grown to understand the boundaries of her drawings and your writing.
two things were off limits. one, was her big black bulky sketchbook that she often brought around to your house or sat under her arm. two, as your pink journal. she'd seen it once, questioning you what book was falling out from your locker drawer. you were honest with her. you told her it was your diary, the book you cherished the most, the book she could never read.
at first, ellie was a little taken aback.
sure, she knew everyone had their own secrets but it was you. you told ellie everything, or so she thought.
"oh, thank god." she spoke, pushing her jacket off as she walked into your house, right through the front door. the snow from outside decorated the crown of her head and the tip of her nose. "i was looking everywhere for that." discarding her wet boots at the door. "thought i lost it."
"nope." you chimed from your place at your kitchen counter. your stools had been the very ones joel had built for you. well, not for you. he really built them for anyone but when no takers raised their hand, you sort of felt like you had to. ellie laughed at you, stating nobody would want to sit at your kitchen counter ever again. "right here."
ellie soon made her way across the kitchen, taking the sketchbook from your hands softly. "you didn't... look at anything, did you?"
you shook your head from side to side. "'course not, els." that beloved nickname that had her cheeks turning pink. "'s the same way i wouldn't want you reading my diary. i wouldn't look at your sketchbook like that." god only knew what ellie williams was drawing on the cream coloured paper.
she breathed a sigh of relief, believing you. "okay, thank you." though she still had a gnawing feeling at the bottom of her stomach. what if you did? i mean, you wouldn't do that much less lie to her afterwards. but what if. once the thought entered her head, she had a hard time getting it to leave again.
"wanna watch a movie?" you questioned, placing your chin on your hands that had been propped up by the elbows onto your kitchen counter.
ellie sat herself on one of the white stools, not the wooden ones joel had made. "whatcha have in mind, sweetheart?" it wasn't often that ellie came over for less than a day. i mean, you two were practically attached together by the hip. if ellie was at your house, and even just for something as small as to collect the sketchbook, she was more often than not staying over.
you hummed, your lips pressed together. try as you must but you never were able to play off the stammering and flustered appearance as she called you those pretty names. but that was sort of the whole point, she liked the way your cheeks heated up. "something christmassy." you spoke. "like the muppets or something."
the girl merely raised a scarred brow at you. "it's november."
you huffed out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "'s never to early for christmas, els."
that was enough for ellie, she supposed. after this short interaction in the kitchen, you both ended up sat atop your living room couch, you fishing around with the remote. thankfully, she'd agreed on the muppets christmas carol, and you were not about to give up the oppertunity to watch your favourite movie with your favourite person.
a hand came down to your side, gently rubbing up and down gently. suddenly, the buttons on the controller seemed hazy and you blinked not once, not twice but three times, a breath falling from your lips. her fingers were so long and pretty, gently soothing the bare skin from underneath your shirt, barely hitting against your stomach. it wasn't much but for a touch starved girl alike you, it was enough to have your stomach in knots, your mind blurring into one big watercolour.
ellie seemed to have taken notice to the way your entire demeanour changed, her brows barely moving. "something wrong, baby?" you couldn't tell if she were being serious or not. perhaps it was because everything seemed hazy but truly, you couldn't distinguish whether or not she was trying to fool around with you or if her words had really been spoken with such innocence.
did she know what she was doing to you?
you cleared your throat, bee stung lips rolling. "lets jus' watch the movie, els." pressing what you assumed was the start button and watching as the screen lit up. avoiding the question completely.
you'd missed the way her lips curved up into a smirk.
of course, ellie williams was well aware of the effect she had on you.
you see, you'd been hiding this 'crush' on your best friend for quite a long time now. but it was times like this that you swore she knew, she had to. of course, she had to be aware of the way you stumbled upon your words around her or the way your face seemed on fire when she used those pretty nicknames on you. that was the thing, she called you the names, nobody else, not even those fuckbuddies of hers.
it begged the question, where did you stand to her?
you'd been best friends for so long now, you were sure she merely called you these things and seemed so impossibly close because she was comfortable with you. otherwise, there'd somehow be a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why she treated you so differently. though, the bigger part of you, the one consumed by romance novels and love letters, the one that consumed romantic films as if it were food, that part of you wanted to believe it was because you were different. well, not you necessarily. you didn't want to be different to all the girls she fucked, well, you didn't really care. you just wanted ellie's feelings for you to be different.
you didn't want ellie to look at you like you were one of those girls that'd spend the night then leave by morning without so much as a breakfast or goodbye.
you wanted her to look at you like you were worth a million stars. the way you looked at her.
you'd been enamoured by her since the day you'd met her and it appeared as though it were obvious to just about everyone other than her. your best friends dina and jesse had instantly picked up on it when you were kids. it was a wonder to both you and them how ellie still hadn't found out.
but even when dina and jesse brought it up, whether there was a teasing tone etched to their words or perhaps they were asking a serious question, you did exactly what ellie told you to do in every other situation. deny, deny, deny. probably the only time you ever took on ellie's advice.
the one person or thing, i should say, that actually knows about this little 'crush' on the auburn haired girl was the little pink notebook tucked away in the side drawer of your room, right next to your desk.
seeing as it was merely ink to a page, you didn't have to hide. you didn't have to become flustered the way you did when talking to ellie and you didn't have to lie the way you did to dina and jesse. you could simply breathe again.
it was the thing you admired most about this little book, the freedom.
you could say anything you wanted about anyone you wanted and nobody would ever know. it'd never leave the little pink book. besides, the only person that knew about your diary was ellie and you trusted her enough not to look through it. the same way you'd never pick up ellie's sketchbook and look through it.
not only because she asked but because you too know what it's like to have something of yours worth so much value. not in money, of course, but in a sense that it truly was yours and nobody elses.
"yes i could." you bit back to the auburn haired girl that sat atop your bed. the movie had ended hours ago, you'd even thrown on another one. this time, ellie got to choose and as always, she chose a horror. you hated horror movies and yet every single time, without fail, ellie was throwing one on.
"no you couldn't." she rolled her eyes. the current debate was whether or not you would be able to survive the scream movies. you were sure that you would, without a doubt but ellie wasn't so sure. "you can barely sit through a horror movie let alone be in one."
"they're just not interesting." you all but pouted, your stomach leaning against the bed as you looked up at her, tight lipped smile on your lips. "they always have the same plot and they're so... gory." it wasn't that you were scared of them necessarily. don't get me wrong, sometimes you're halfway behind ellie, screaming in her shoulder at what you're watching but even then, you still wouldn't choose to watch horror movies even without all the jump scares.
"yeah, yeah." she rolled her eyes again, she seemingly always did that when you were around. "just say you're a pussy."
you narrowed your eyes at her. "am not."
"annabell." the one word sent shivers down your spine.
"that's different." you defended. you hated the movie more than anything else in the entire world, probably even more than you hated ellie's silly jokes (you loved them really).
she cocked a brow. "how so?"
"because!" you exclaimed, flopping onto your back. "that's a scary doll that'll break into my house while i'm sleeping and―i don't know find some really creepy way to kill me. but ghostface?" you huffed out a giggle. "I could take him on."
this time, ellie tilted her head, a smirk on her lips. "really?" as if she didn't believe you at all.
you frowned at that, did she not think you were strong? you liked to believe you were strong, strong enough to take on ghostface? perhaps not. "i could take you on." you scoffed, looking at her arms.
although you wish you hadn't. the way they flexed under her shirt was enough to have your stomach rolling. her arms were the very thing that had you squirming, they were so defined and toned, along with her stomach, showing you what true muscle she had. your head felt nauseous merely looking at her.
she was getting closer to you, watching as you observed her, eyes never leaving her body. "that so?" teasing voice.
but you didn't respond with words, a mere "mhm." falling from your lips though it sort of sounded like a mix between a hum and a whine, you were failing so horribly at keeping your little secret inside.
"show me then."
you'd done this with ellie before, giggles falling from the bedroom door as you attempted to pin ellie down but right now felt so different. the air was off and the tension was rising.
at first, you tried to play it off. you playfully grabbed at her wrist, trying to push her onto the bed. usually, she'd let you win. she loved to see that victorious smirk on your face after she let you beat her. in the back of your head you'd know, though. you could never beat ellie.
but this time, she didn't let you win.
this time, she flipped your wrists and then you completely. your eyes widened when you realised how strong she was. you always knew she was strong, don't get me wrong but never had you been pinned down by her with such force behind her hands. you felt your face heat up and your stomach swirl as the girl landed above you, her head looking down at you with a smirk playing on her lips.
this time, she won.
"whatever." with a little shove, you manged to push her off. she let you, grinning as she sat back on the bed, pride swelling in her chest as she watched you flusteredly try to hide your face. "i have to go shower."
"good." she joked, watching you get up from the bed. "you fucking stink." she watched you grin and stick your tongue out at her, she did the very same in response, watching you enter your bathroom with clothes that had been sitting on your chair now in your hands.
and then, she was alone.
you'd done this the other day, about a week ago and everything changed. it was the day that ellie did the very thing she swore she'd never do and yet she did it anyway.
she just couldn't help herself.
when you were in the bathroom, showering, she'd reached over to the nightstand to look at the photograph you had on it, you and her, icecream on her nose and smeared on your cheek. a week ago, she'd grinned at it, thinking it was the most heartwarming thing she'd seen in months. then, her eyes had glanced to the little pink book that lay beneath it.
a month ago, she'd swear she'd never go near the thing, ever.
a week ago, she opened it and her eyes scanned the page.
she hadn't had any bad intentions, not really. she was just curious as to what you wrote about, what you were keeping so hidden from your dear, beloved best friend. and when she started, she couldn't stop. she soon realised that the lovely words scrawled across the page weren't about how the sunlight peeked through the clouds or how the rain fell into the puddles collected on the ground. the words were about her.
soon enough, she'd made herself believe that if the words were about her, surely, she should be allowed to read it, it was only right.
she waited until the batrhoom door closed before she reached over to the side of the bed. she knew it was wrong, so wrong, it was an invasion of privacy and she knew you'd probably burst into tears if you'd seen it. but you know what they say, curiosity kills the cat.
she placed the book on the bed, attempting to pick up where she left off.
i just can't help but like her!! what does any of this meannnn??? you don't touch someone like that as a friend, you don't call your 'friends' names like that, it's not normal!! i'm reading into this. i always fucking do this, i read into it and then bam! that's it! i'm gonna loose her to this stupid crush. it's not a crush, i think i'm in love with her. no, i can't be. it's a silly crush and it'll be gone in a day. EVEN THOUGH IT'S BEEN YEARS!! i hate myself and the only option is to throw myself off of a fucking cli―
"els, i think i left my―" she'd never shut something so fast in her entire life. ellie's wide eyes shot up, looking at you standing in the front of the bathroom doorway. "w-what are you doing?" you'd barely registered what'd happened, your eyes already burning.
"shit." there really was no way of defending herself. you'd caught her red handed with the book sitting on the bed. "darling, i didn't―"
"you read it." you deadpanned, feeling the tears begin to well up in your eyes. "you read it, you promised me you wouldn't read it!"
but ellie was already standing from the bed, discarding the book completely. "i know, angel, i know, i'm sorry i jus―"
she was attempting to race to the other side of the room, get to you and presumably comfort you. she couldn't stand the tears in your eyes. "do you know?" that you've been helplessly in love with her the past four years and running? her silence gave a response but not one that you were particularly happy with. "do you know?"
her voice was a meak whisper. "yeah, baby, i know."
humiliation, embarrassment, shame,
all you could feel.
you'd been helplessly and hopelessly in love with ellie for as long as time yet never have you truly worried about it getting back to her. dina knew but she'd never squeal, neither would jesse if he knew what was good for him.
that little pink book didn't just know briefly of this 'fleeting crush' it knew everything, every minor detail. ellie consumed the pages, every pen stroke had her name on it. you were sure that the book knew more about this crush than you could ever grasp.
"hey, hey, don't cry." she was up in your face, hands attempting to hold your face, soothing you gently. "hey, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." she kept repeating everything but nothing could stop the way your lip wobbled and your eyes filled to the brim, the dam breaking as a fat tear rolled down your cheek. "okay, just―"
ellie was panicking. she knew how you could get, once you started crying it was damn near impossible to get you to stop. the way your lip trembled served as a constant reminder that she had been the one to put you in this situation, she had made you cry.
before you could even thin, there was a big black book being shoved in your hands. you didn't think to look down, mind to foggy and far away but ellie was already opening it up for you. "angel, look, see?" finally, you pulled your eyes away from the little pink book on your bed, eyes trailing down to the sketchbook. ellie briefly flickered through the pages, your brows pinched together. were they... drawings of you? "i do it too, see?" had anyone ever put their heart on the line merely to get you to stop crying? no. then again, nobody else had ever been quite like ellie williams.
you sniffled, glancing at one of the pictures. it looked so real, as if you were looking at yourself right now, eyes shut and lips sort of smashed against the pillow. "am i sleeping?" you sniffled, mouth sort of dry.
ellie found herself a dark crimson. "well―yeah." she only now realised what she'd done. she just wanted you to stop crying, she didn't think of what she was doing to herself, outing herself like that. then again, it was only right as she'd outed you before.
you swallowed thickly, wiping the tears away with your sleeve. "'s really stalkerish, els." you mumbled and she couldn't help but grin at you.
"i'm really sorry." her voice low enough to have you glancing up at her, straining your ears. "i shouldn't have read it."
you nodded your head. "you shouldn't have." but you couldn't help but feel a little weight lift off your chest. she knew now, at least you'd no longer have to hide it.
once again it left you wondering where you stood.
ellie could see the way your eyes went sort of foggy, blocking her out. she wondered what you were thinking now. "y/n?"
finally, you pulled your eyes away from the ground, looking at her perfect green eyes.
"i love you too."
main masterlist/ellie's masterlist
#queer#ellie williams angst#ellie#williams#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams smut#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams oneshot#lesbian#the last of us#tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie williams the last of us#the last of us hbo#the last of us x reader#ellie williams drabble#ellie drabble#ellie tlou#ellie williams tlou#tlou x reader#tlou x y/n#ellie williams x y/n#tlou fluff#tlou angst#tlou imagine#tlou oneshot#gay#lgbtq
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Are You Experienced?
Rating: Mature
Words: 26K
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Warnings & Tags:
AO3 Link
Team 117 for @steddiebang 2023
Author: @madaboutmunson
Artist: @danadaria
Beta: @house-of-chant
Cheerleader : @atmilliways (unofficial but I am super grateful for your help so didn't want to miss you out!)
Summary:
Everyone knows Steve Harrington, a local rich kid jock, the previous king of Hawkins High School. He's got it all, money, a respectable family, and chicks love him. He's even spending the summer learning what it's like to be a real working man before taking on a role in his Dad's firm because its builds character and empathy. Or is he something else entirely?
Is Steve a down-on-his-luck guy, stuck in a job he dislikes because his dad is teaching him a lesson, repeatedly striking out with the ladies, that his co-worker is fond of reminding him about?
Under all the many layers and masks, he uses to survive the day-to-day, Steve has secrets. The main one is how passionately he loves music. How it moves him in ways nothing else does, and he's sure no one else could possibly feel the same, until his Mom gives him $50 to spend at the new record store.
Notes:
I sincerely hope you enjoy this story and the artwork for this fic. I really loved writing it, and I really loved the Steddie community I became part of because of this event. It has changed me forever. You're all so awesome.
Huge thanks to my artist who not only claimed my fic but also really understood our Steve's perspective in this. I can't believe how lucky I am to have @danadaria as part of my team!
Also huge thanks to @house-of-chant for beta-ing my fic you rule! Thank you so much
And also big shout out to @atmilliways who when I was getting nervous about my fic (it had been so long since I edited it (I completed my before claims lol)) gave it another read for me and restored my confidence in it! Thank you
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It's the beat that got him first, or so his mom is fond of reminding him as she teased him a little over the foam on her cappuccino. A fond nostalgic expression washes over her usual business-like aura that mostly filled these private but public meet-ups.
Away from his Dad, essentially. Away from his judgemental outlook, away from his snide comments and homophobic jabs. Here, his mother was more his mom; they'd been doing this since Steve had been forced to find a job, and honestly, it's been the best thing to come out of this shitty situation so far.
When he was a kid, they used to spend her days off together without him until he fucked that up for Steve too. The cheating. His wandering eyes, hands and dick meant his mom would leave and take him for everything he had, including Steve, but somehow he slimed his way back, citing addictions. He could change if his wife stood by him through his "sickness". The irony of reminding his mom of her wedding vows to make her stay after she'd found out about only the first of a long list of women he'd been banging was not lost on Steve. So now she had to follow his Dad everywhere, like his goddamn nanny. It was beneath her, she didn't have to do this, but she did. She'd be damned if she looked like she didn't try.
Steve often wonders if that is because even though he hurt her irreparably, repeatedly, that some small tiny part of her still loved that pathetic excuse for a husband. They both would be happier if they'd just left him, though they never say it out loud, only in silent shared glances over dinner or when he pisses one of them off, and they just have to take it. Because now he's built himself a better legal team, and she knows they're stuck. But Saturday was golf day, and that was no place for a wife, apparently. Steve loathed him.
His Mom always offers to buy him lunch. Steve always declines. Says he's already eaten. He hasn't. He just wants to prove he can do this. He can work. He can survive. Then maybe his Dad would lighten up, stop busting his balls about college, give him a shitty job at his place, and then Steve would be set for life. Come to heel, fitting the mold, nine to five grind and staying on the right side of his trust fund and future inheritance.
Despite his eagerness for an easy life, Steve is the kind of guy that loves a challenge. He loves to prove people wrong about him, but carefully, quietly, because if he fails as he has numerous times, at least the only person who knows he was trying so hard is himself. But he'd be lying out of his ass, if he didn't admit at least to himself that it would be much nicer to live the privileged, pampered life rather than getting his confidence shattered multiple times a day, dressed as a fucking sailor pin-up.
"You were so funny, Stevie. Crawling the wrong way. Not being able to work out how to turn yourself around. Constantly bumping into things. Until, of course, you found your muse," She chuckles, and it warms Steve's heart because this is also something that only happens at these meetings. She genuinely laughs, and her smile reaches her eyes, making them twinkle like a starry, starry night. Not like the laugh at home, not the carefully curated laugh, the one that's calculated to not be too loud or too long, lest it irritates his Dad somehow. Steve had one, too for him. "Such a little dancer," his mom adds, nostalgia swimming in her eyes of happier times.
That was true. His Mom, Dad and Nanny all said the same about him. His Mom and Nanny with joy, his Dad with disgust. It was also true that Steve had lost his footing literally and figuratively many times over his life so far, and some of those times, the only person able to pick him up and dust him off was himself. But he had a secret weapon. He had music.
Lots of people like music. Some love it.Steve believed there was part of him that was almost a direct connection to it. Like he had music in him. Like the right song at the right time could plug into him and change him forever. Like part of him was controlled by it. He wasn't just moved by it physically, but emotionally too. He could put on his headphones alone at night, press play, and be transported elsewhere. Places, feelings, past, present, future and in the skin of someone else. Until he is swept up in it like an inescapable hurricane. Until Steve Harrington didn't exist for those few minutes.
"Glad to know I amused you at one point," he jokes and gives her a charming smile. It's almost natural, but she takes it. Looks around quickly before stretching across the table and squeezing his hand, and he feels the familiar paper push inside as she takes her hand away back to her coffee cup.
"Have you been to the record store here yet?" She takes a sip of her drink and glances up at it, "Looks a lot more modern than the one in town."
Steve pulls his hands into his lap and unfurls his fingers to reveal a fifty-dollar bill. He rolls his eyes, "Come on, Mom. I don't need this," he whispers, "I'm fine. I'm still at home. I'm making my own money. It feels kinda good, you know?"
Her happy expression falls, "You look tired, my little star." Her eyes meet his over the rim of her coffee cup. He knows how tired he looks, he sees it in the mirror every morning, and it's not from work. He is struggling post-high school. Things aren't as easy anymore. "Why don't you try the new place out? It's not far from work, right?" He glances over at Sam Goody's from where they are seated and is tempted, but there are reasons he's been avoiding it. "You know you are never happier than when you get to add to your collection. Tell him you got a big tip or something if he bothers to ask you. Once I'm home, I'll put my rollers in before he gets back, and he'll think I had my hair done. So don't worry." Steve half smiles and guiltily casts his eyes to the table between them. This will be their last lunch for a while.
"Thanks. If everything goes ok, I'll check it out after my shift." And he will. Steve tries to stick to his word as best he can, at least endeavours to be better than his Dad at it anyway, which, honestly, takes little effort. He pushes the money into his jacket pocket as she gets up, and they part ways with a small fond wave. A hug would be too much out in the open, as if being dressed as a sailor wasn't eye-catching enough.
Steve returns to Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor and tags in so the girl he always seems to be on shift with can take her break. Her name's Robin. She's a little younger than him: Nancy's age. She's bossy, annoying, a complete nerd; she talks too much, she's in band, she takes drama; and she thinks she's some kind of revolutionary because she found a feminist zine one time. He gets the same feeling around her as when he's with the little group of dickheads that he always ends up babysitting. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, El. He'd never let on, but it's kinda nice. They can rib one another all day, laugh, and mutually complain about work. It's like a weird comradery.
But what Steve really likes about her isn't the things she gives away with her words. It's what he spots in her Walkman or what she hums when she's working in the back. Sure, Robin will tell you her favourites, Madonna, Bowie, Culture Club, and Cindy Lauper, but that, as with most people, is just the tip of the iceberg. She also likes Patti Smith, The Runaways and Marvin Gaye. Steve managed to sneak a peek at the names through the window of her Walkman. Sometimes, annoyingly, it will be an unlabelled mixtape, preventing Steve from unravelling the mystery of Robin further.
Steve's Robin assessment:
Non-traditional values
Likes people who go against the grain
Hopeless Romantic
"You're back early. You've got another fifteen minutes?" She frowns at him and wrinkles her nose, making her freckles misshapen.
"Oh yeah," Steve plays dumb, follows up with a shrug, and heads into the back to hang up his jacket, wash his hands and pick up his scooper. When he re-emerges, she's still leaning on the counter, frowning at him like he was the weirdest thing she'd ever seen. He gives her a charming smile back, "You can go early if you want?" Her frown turns into disgust as she pushes past him into the back.
"What is with you?!" She mutters as she passes.
"Ah, what is with me, Robin, is that I love the thrill of consumerism! Gonna beat my personal best today. You'll see!" He calls after her with a smile.
"I know you only need one phone number to do that, Steve, but I still think that's one too many out of your reach." She says in a sing-song tone with a laugh, and Steve rolls his eyes in annoyance.
"I'm talking about ice cream sales, birdbrain." He sasses back.
"Ohh, sticking to what we're good at, finally. I'm proud of you, Steve." She says, teasing him, as she walks back out, headphones on, giving him a salute goodbye.
There is a small influx of customers over the next hour, but nothing Steve can't handle, and by the time Robin returns, there isn't much to do except start shutting down.
"Well?" Robin inquires with a smirk.
"Almost," Steve replies with a smile, "but also…" he pulls a slip of paper from his hat with a number on. Robin grabs at it, and Steve pulls it out of her reach. "Ah-ah! Change the tally. I have a number." Steve points at the little whiteboard.
"Ok, fine!" She says with an adorable huff, picking up the marker pen, but as soon as Steve has relaxed, she snatches the slip of paper and reads over it, clasping her hand over her mouth, with a laugh, "Oh, Steve. Were they wearing a uniform or - or maybe carrying a net?"
"A what? No!" He says, frowning in annoyance, "This cute blonde chick with a perm. Linzie! That's it!" Steve says, clicking his fingers and pointing at the whiteboard impatiently.
Robin walks over to the board and puts a mark under the You Suck column.
"Hey!" Steve protests.
"This is the number for animal control," Robin says smugly, holding the paper between her fingers and handing it back to Steve, who snatches it and races for the phone, punching in the number whilst keeping a locked defiant stare with Robin.
The phone rings a few times. It feels like forever.
"Hawkins Animal Control. No bug too small, no bear too big." Steve rolls his eyes and slams down the handset, tossing the paper in the trash and leans glumly on the counter. He really does feel like he sucks right now.
"Come on, champ. Your frosty mistress still loves you! In scoopfuls," she says, laughing as she pats him on the shoulder and thrusts an ice cream tub at him. As he looks up from his self-pity, quicksand. Her eyes are bright, sparkling with harmless mischief. Even though her teasing could be a little cutting, there was no malice. He can tell by the way she warmly smiles at him. A wordless check-in to see if she'd gone too far.
"For now. Until some grizzly pirate steals her away, no doubt." Steve rolls his eyes as he starts piling up more tubs to take out back to wash.
"Or you." She says with a laugh. Steve shakes his head and contorts his face like she just told him the moon was made of sponge cake and returns out front to collect a few more.
"No chance, not with these reflexes!" He says, spinning his scooper in his hand. She rolls her eyes, but her smile widens as she launches a sauce bottle at him that he effortlessly catches before impact, pumps his eyebrows at her and repeats, "Not with these reflexes." The forced sneer of disgust appears on her face again, making him hide a laugh behind a tower of tubs he's picked up.
He really liked Robin. She was easy to be around.
Closing time comes around, and they nod their goodbyes, at the storefront, after locking up. Like clockwork, her headphones are back on as she walks towards the bike racks. He already knows she's listening to Raspberry Beret.
Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and feels the crinkle of the fifty from his mom against his fingertips, and his eyes move to the record store. They were probably gonna be open for an hour or so longer. He turns to the store's glass front, has a final check over his appearance and ensures his uniform is buried deep in the depths of his backpack before taking a deep breath and walking over there.
It's not like he hated this place or anything. It just felt like a betrayal to the town store that was slowly but surely crumbling into non-existence. The other factor was that all the people who worked here were school kids, apart from the manager. Cheap labour, he guesses, but it means he can never fully relax here. Can never fully let the music ring through his ears so it can guide him to his next pocket-sized plastic box of hidden treasure. Most of them were younger than him, though, so intimidating them was easy enough, though with the weather warming up, they were slowly catching on to how far King Steve had fallen, working just across the way. He tells them it's character-building, an experiment. He only told Robin that it was, in fact, a punishment.
He stands outside for a moment. This place is so bright and garish. Neon lights ran all over it like some fake plastic poison spreading between what he loved most. He can already hear something blaring out of there and voices chattering loudly, contending with it. He puts on his headphones, carefully placing the band so it doesn't crease up his hair, and pushes play on his Walkman. His ears fill with Nina Simone, and he takes a much easier deep breath as he walks inside.
I wish I knew how it would feel to be free.
As the voice smoothly fills his ears like it had just broken through the dam of the day and swirls its way around his brain into what feels like every crease, he finally feels that special feeling. The tingle from under his cheekbone to his temples, and he can finally settle into himself a little more. Swaps tension for ease as his fingers dance over the music sections, flipping cassette cases or the large vinyl album artwork as he moves around the store.
That is until he starts to hear the repetition of something unfortunate, and it pulls him out of his oasis of calm back into his old, reliable, tensed body and mask. His name.
"Harrington!" The voice rings out, and as if to make a show of how annoying this all is, he slowly takes off his headphones and forcibly pushes stop on his walkman.
"Yes?" He says through almost gritted teeth as he turns to the origin of the sound and finds himself met with a set of hopeful brown eyes, a mass of waves and curls, and an awkward smile. Eddie "The Freak" Munson.
Steve's Eddie assessment:
Loud
Grating
Obnoxious
Non-conformist to the mainstream
Conformist to the Heavy Metal scene
"Good to see ya, man. How're things?" Eddie forces his smile wider, but it is strained.
Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, "Let's get this over with, Munson. How can I help you?" His hands land on his hips, pushing back his jacket a little to emphasise the inconvenience, but Eddie seems unperturbed, curiously; his smile grows toothy and genuine.
"Well, that's quite an offer, but I was actually thinking about the other way around." Steve's eyes follow Eddie's ringed hand that comes into view and taps the name tag on his chest, "How can I help you, Harrington?" He drops his head to the side a little.
Steve forces out an unimpressed laugh of condescension, "I don't need any help. I'm good!" Eddie's customer service persona falters a little to worry.
"Come on, man. All these other twerps here are terrified of me or the younger ones, who aren't, get led away by their folks." As he gestures around the store, sets of eyes that Steve didn't realise were on them dart away. Eddie's eyebrows push together, "You know I wouldn't ask if I wasn’t desperate, dude. We're in the same boat here, you know? Please?"
Weirdly the endearing look on his face wins him over, but Steve will not advertise himself as an easy sell. He pushes back once more for good measure. "We are not in the same boat, not by a long shot!"
Eddie steps in closer, keeping his voice down, and mumbles out, "I know you're working over at Scoops, one of my band told me."
"Yeah, well, that's just an experiment. If I'm gonna manage people and run a company, I need to know what the average worker feels like. So like I said, it's very different," he scoffs with a laugh.
Then something unexpected happens. Eddie shifts his body and his stance. Straightens his wiry frame to his full height, no longer slouching for the promise of Steve's pity, but eye to eye for a second before he's slightly above him, maybe an inch or so. He squints a little, carefully searches each of Steve's eyes, looks him over, and puffs out his chest. All too familiar with this display of sizing up an opponent, Steve mirrors him. Show no sign of weakness.
"You know, Harrington. One of my first little tasks here was to take out the trash. I crushed up boxes and collected empty soda cans that my colleagues and customers enjoy leaving around the place, though the signs explicitly say not to. I even shredded the unsuccessful applications for the position I just filled." Eddie's lips are tighter. It's almost a threat. He's obviously seen Steve's resume in the pile. Probably laughed at it too. An ember of anger glows within Steve, but his outside remains cool. He'll wait and see what Eddie wants to do with his leverage. His stare bores intimidatingly down into Steve's eyes, "So, as far as I'm concerned, and anyone that brings it up to me is concerned, we can stay in very different boats, Steeeeve." He lengthens and forces his name through clenched teeth. "That is, as long as you help me out here."
They hold the shared stare for a few seconds. The surprise revelation must have made it to Steve's face because Eddie looks like he knows he's won. He shifts back into sales assistant mode, like shrugging a jacket back on, and his hands animate his words once more. "So, I can help you out in the store. I could even make sure that all my friends with the munchies know where to get the best ice cream in town if you need some help over there too? Some of them are a lot cuter than you'd expect. Whaddya say, buddy? Consider it a symbiotic relationship." His grin, reptilian.
Steve breathes like he knows he's going to regret this. Eddie Munson invading his precious music. "What do you feel you can help me with today?" His exasperation is palpable. Eddie claps his hands together with glee, and his accessories clink about as he, alternating leg, hops on the spot before his sly grin turns radiant, friendly almost. The rapid change is almost a little jarring but intriguing because with a switch that quick, one of these attitudes was pure showmanship, and to his credit, both were believable performances.
"Well, let's start with the basics. Are you looking for anything in particular today?" Eddie asks pleasantly. "Because whatever you're looking for, Goody got it" he laughs out the rehearsed store slogan. It seems like he is actually trying here, and Steve decides this doesn't need to be a totally painful experience. For himself, at least. He taps his chin thoughtfully.
"Hmmm, I guess I'm just looking for something new." Steve ponders, looking around, and he sees a glimmer in Eddie's eyes as they dart from Steve to a section further back in the store.
"Oh, well, if you want the freshest sounds around, you've come to not only the right store but also the right man. Metal is taking off in a big way right now, splintering off into little tasty genre morsels even someone as…well… straight-laced as yourself might enjoy." He looks him over, his eyes zig-zagging for clues. "Maybe nothing too heavy. A smorgasbord of speeds and sentiment for you to sample. Maybe er…Mötley Crüe? You heard of 'em?" Eddie has linked his arm and is currently parading Steve towards the back of the store. "Now try to overlook the title of the album. It's much less scary than it sounds. I think you're probably a Queen fan, right? Maybe some Bowie, Cheap Trick, or other seventies glam stuff? Well, you'll hear in many Crue melodies and riff structures that they are as much influenced by that as they were by punk rock. So I think you might like it. Besides, they are known for their hair, just like you." Eddie lays his charm on thick, well, what he thinks is charming anyway. Strictly speaking, it is a little hit and miss in Steve's book; although he lets Eddie finish his spiel, which is honestly more impressive than he would like to admit, Steve already had the album Shout At The Devil stashed away at home, and he did like some of it, but it didn't move him. But something about Eddie reeling off some of his favourites like that feels strange. Maybe that's why Eddie got the job here. Perhaps he’s a quick study when it comes to musical taste.
He attempts to assess Eddie for himself. Everything about his outside screams of high-speed punk and metal. But things like Dio, Iron Maiden and Sabbath definitely lean towards fantasy, history and myth. Imaginative, maybe, but that felt too soft. So he labels him creative, at least. The way he could talk at length about topics, and he's good with words. Maybe that's why he likes songs where the lyrics are a real story, tales of dragons and kings. There are the obvious things too. The way he dresses, his haircut, and his rings, but also something else. Being around him feels like when a guitar gets plugged into an amplifier. Eddie is big energy, wild maybe, something animalistic in how he doesn't hold back his expressions. Definitely something predatory in how he loomed over him, but that could have just been for show.
For Steve, there are levels to this. There is music you can’t bear to hear, the music you are indifferent to, the music you enjoy, music that evokes emotion, and then the stuff that sends lightning through your nervous system. It moves you, even if you don't want to be. If he was going to help Eddie out, the least he could get for himself was a tidbit of insider information about the guy at the same time.
So Steve stops them dead in their tracks before they reach the Metal section of the store and lies, "You know, I don't think my girlfriends are gonna enjoy that too much, Eddie. Maybe, yeah, maybe something a little softer. You know what girls like, right?" He sees Eddie jolt to a stop, his head shrinking back into his shoulders with a wince, and he releases his arm.
He turns to Steve, tossing his hair over his shoulder in a vain act of cockiness, that this time Steve sees right through. He waits to see what transpires. "Of course I do! I just thought you were shopping for you. You didn't say otherwise, duh!" Eddie states defensively, struts back into the middle of the store, and stops directly in front of the top 100 chart singles, blinking a few times, pretending to be in thought, but Steve sees the swallow of nerves. "So, uh, what's she into? So I can, you know, make a related recommendation."
Oh! This was an unexpected turn of events, and Steve can't resist tugging at the strand of Eddie's unravelling. "Oh, you know, typical girl stuff." Eddie nods at the hundreds of cassettes in front of him, his mouth a tight line, avoiding Steve's eyes. He had made an assumption about Eddie long ago, and as it turned out, he might actually be wrong. He’s a nerd, yes. Loud, sure, but he’s also a lead guitarist. They get girls, women even, throwing themselves at them, right? But Eddie seems very nervous about figuring out what girls like. He looks stumped. Steve doesn't know if that is due to inexperience with girls or chart music.
"Huh," Eddie coughs out, hand on his hip as he rounds on Steve, "Never thought you were a misogynist, Harrington."
"What?" Steve blinks in surprise.
"You think girls like a certain type of music. That's pretty sexist." The confident smile returns to his face as he feels he's found a way out of the awkward place Steve had happily placed him in. "Your genitalia or identity can't make you favour one beat over another, Harrington. Music is an even playing field. The industry itself, that's a different story." He sighs like he's some wise old sage and tuts at Steve.
This guy is slippery, but Steve could play this game, "Oh, of course. What I meant was music for romancing? Maybe a slow dance over a candle-lit dinner or a moonlight drive down to get acquainted near Lover’s Lake or Skull Rock. You know all about that, don't you, Eddie? You're a man of the world, right?" Steve leans into Eddie's space and grins happily at him. That's when Steve gets another win. Eddie blushes, not just a little either, a lot. Soft coral-pink patches hit just on and under his cheekbones. So much so that before Steve can comment on it, Eddie is kneeling on the floor, pretending to search through tapes, his hair draped down, hiding his face. If he was a betting man, he'd guess the inexperience was with girls. Now there was a new question. Was that a choice or not?
He stands up eventually and looks Steve directly in the eyes, and smirks, "Alright, then." He says quietly, "Wait here" Steve frowns a little in confusion but observes Eddie darting around the store until he returns with three cassettes. "Contemporary," he hands over a copy of Sade's Diamond Life, "smooth," he places a second cassette on top of Al Green's Let's Stay Together, and the last cassette on the pile, The Jimi Hendrix Experience's Are You Experienced? He shifts his weight to his other leg, looks down at the tapes and then back into Steve's eyes, speaking hushed and deliberately as if he were telling him a secret, "and some of the sexiest fucking guitar the sixties had to offer."
And in that one sentence, Steve is jolted, like someone just caught him off guard with a hand buzzer. The first two descriptions were statements, observations, but that last one…there was power to it. Not just his words but the delivery. Eddie meant that. An enthusiasm he immediately recognised matching his own when he thought about music or talked about it after a few beers, and he had to remember not to let his mask slip too far, but Eddie wasn't masking how this particular musical gem had impacted him. Steve quickly breaks eye contact and looks down at the tapes in his hand.
"You listened to all these?" Steve asks because Eddie had inadvertently prodded Steve's curiosity gremlin, which is clawing its way out of him. He needed to learn more now. Unknowingly Eddie had baited the water for Steve, he wanted to circle him until he got another tasty chunk, but he couldn't, not here and now.
Eddie brushes the question off, "I know my way around. Just trust me. And in the unlikely event I'm wrong, you can return them at my expense." Eddie waves his hand in front of them both toward the register. "Shall we?"
Steve nods, turning the tapes over in his hands. Maybe he could keep the conversation going differently. "What happened to your other business venture?" It's reasonably well known Eddie is the go-to guy for recreational substances for high schoolers, and Steve would guess that is relatively lucrative, so why on earth was he working here. Was he turning over a new leaf?
"Well, not that it's any of your business, Harrington, but I'm under advisement to press pause on that whilst some things get ironed out." He taps the registry keys with a smirk that indicates to Steve that perhaps it's the golf club and not the clothing crease-removing iron he's talking about. "If I'm not splashing around, other things can bob up to the surface, you know? Things that shouldn't be in Hawkins waters, at any rate." Eddie looks up at Steve and stretches his hand out toward him so he can give him the tapes.
He has occasionally wondered if the cops knew about Eddie, but as long as he kept things quiet and didn't venture into harder substance sales, they let it slide. An unspoken agreement of sorts.
"Found out about this place, and well, here we are," Eddie takes the money, bags the cassettes, and drops in the receipt and a flier. He smiles hugely at Steve. "I sincerely hope you have a great evening, and remember," he hands over his change and raises a finger in the air, "whatever you're looking for," and leans across the counter into Steve's space, "Goody got it!" He says with a bit of extra pout, and something about this outward confidence mixes with his potential inexperience and makes for a tantalizingly tempting cocktail of Steve's thoughts.
Steve pushes him back lightly, but Eddie laughs as he presses against Steve's hand before retreating. Shit. That probably looked weird. Nodding his thanks and goodbye, he leaves, and as he does, Eddie hops up onto the counter, calling after him loudly by cupping his hands around his mouth, "And if I'm right, which I know I am! Don't forget to tell your friends about the fantastic customer service you've received today!" Steve keeps his head down and walks out, awkwardly smiling at anyone who meets his eye.
Safely on the outside of the store in a dwindling-to-empty mall, Steve stops holding his breath. His insides, especially his brain, feel like they aren't sitting correctly. Like they are just out of place. He unclenches his fists to cool down his palms, which were busily overheating, particularly the one he'd pushed Eddie back with. He tries to shake whatever this is off himself and decides to try out one of the tapes. He looks at the three. He contemplates trying them in the order Eddie supplied them, but he knows in his core what he really wants. He wants to know why that last one made Eddie's eyes sparkle like that, why he chose those words, and why recalling the music on that tape for a few seconds completely changed Eddie's demeanor. He outright used the word sexy, but it wasn't that. Instead, Eddie made Jimi Hendrix, one of the most famous artists to ever have existed, sound like something secret or forbidden.
He rounds to the glass storefront and forces himself to calmly unwrap and change the tape in his Walkman when all he really wants to do is greedily rip open the packaging, tossing the old tape into the never, and be plunged straight into whatever sorcery this album contained. He puts his headphones back on and pushes play. A few seconds of silence as he paces towards the parking lot. He doesn't know why, but he glances back into the shop. The doorway frames a kid, probably around Dustin's age, engaging Eddie in conversation, holding up two tapes like he's trying to decide, and Eddie is talking animatedly, pointing at each in turn. The kid listens attentively. Steve smiles to himself.
Steve's Eddie assessment:
Loud
Grating
Obnoxious
Non-conformist to the mainstream
Conformist to the Heavy Metal scene
Likes talking about music
Might not be the awful person the town says he is.
Then, like he can sense someone observing him, Eddie looks up and smiles at Steve. Pointing to himself excitedly and then at the kid making her way to the registers and sends him a thumbs up. Steve sends a weak one back and continues his walk to the car. The guitar and beat of Purple Haze time his steps.
Steve adds to his Eddie assessment.
Nice smile.
****************************
"Wow! Your eyes look more sunken than my shipwrecked spirit when I walked through this door," Robin exclaims, her lip curled in disgust, but he notes, with a hint of concern, when she turns up to start her shift. Steve leaning back against the counter under the hatch, starts to reply but is interrupted by a waiting yawn beating his words to the punch, "Say no more Nosferatu!" She adds, heading into the back to hang up her jacket, helmet and backpack.
Steve lets his eyes lose focus and dissociates a little from the blue and white surrounding him. It's been quiet all morning. He didn't even know why they opened in the morning, it seemed like a waste of utilities, but it usually meant that there was nothing to do except prep and clean for the first few hours on a weekday. Which was nice because it meant Steve had the place to himself and could drown out the sea shanties and chipper hornpipe melodies with whatever music he was immersing himself into at that moment in time. Today that had been the same thing he'd been listening to all night like it was his required sustenance.
He thinks a little about last night, on the car ride home, and whilst he cooked dinner for one, he sampled the Sadé album, this was dripping in that eighties sophistication of romance, and her voice might have been one of the most beautiful things Steve has ever heard. Then whilst taking care of some chores, he listened to the Al Green album, again an excellent recommendation by Eddie, it moved through the phases of love effortlessly, and the voice again was sensational. Not because the music is better, it wasn't even a genre Steve preferred, but simply because of how Eddie changed when he spoke about it. Steve saves Are you experienced? for the end of the night, when there is nothing more to do than sleep.
Taking advantage of having the place all to himself was different these days. Years ago, he'd maybe throw a party and have people stay over, but recently he hadn't had it in him. Instead, he prepares the area as usual. Turns out all the lights, makes sure everywhere is locked up, rushes to his room, gets a box of randomly assorted candles, sets a few out, and lights them. Last of all, he dons the huge over-ear headphones he's plugged into his parent's hi-fi system as he lays back on the plush rug beside it and pushes play. The beat like his heart gently pounds as Steve Harrington unwittingly falls into Eddie Munson for the first time that evening.
Steve startles at the abruptness of the hatch opening behind him, "Look, I can't not ask. My conscience is wearing me down, even though, just so this is abundantly clear, I do not care to know about your private life, generally speaking," Robin says rapidly, like she's chucking her words at him, before sighing, "Is everything ok with you?" Her voice is more gentle, verging on caring.
"Yeah, everything's fine. Just couldn't sleep, that's all. Probably the change in weather," he answers.
"Oh well, I've cracked the case. That totally seems like the truth," she sarcastically says, shutting the hatch again, finally stepping out front, and standing directly in front of Steve, "I'm not gonna drag it out of you, but equally, I do not wanna work with the shadow of a person all day. So at the very least, if you don't wanna say what's eating you, go get a coffee and come back half-human before I get dragged down into the doldrums with you. It's contagious, you know, just like yawning!" She says and promptly has to cover her mouth to hold back a yawn, which also makes Steve yawn, "Ok, enough! Get out!" She says and points towards the store entrance. Steve obliges, pushing himself off the counter, slowly sloping off to the back to grab his jacket and leaving Robin with their obligatory salute as he heads over to the nearest caffeine purveyor.
As he walks, one side of his jacket weighs heavier than the other. The pocket that usually holds his on-demand solace, but today it contains a key that unlocked the door to impulse. When choosing his music for the day this morning, he reached for a mixtape that he'd made of some of his favorite chart hits, but as he opened the Walkman and saw the tape he'd been listening to all night, The one that he couldn't stop listening to, The one that snapped something free inside him, moments after he thought that maybe he and Eddie might have some common ground, He couldn't bring himself to switch them. He feels the temptation as his fingertips glance over the thin, metal band of the headphones to feel one of those moments all over again. He bites his lip, thinking about recalling one of those less-than-pure thoughts in the full view of all these people. They would have no idea. He looks around quickly like he is about to indulge in class-A contraband while waiting in line.
No one else knew about last night. How his brain had been scrambled irreversibly. How the goosebumps had sprung up in a sprint up his arms, face and thighs. His imagination had not just run away with him but kidnapped him and held him hostage for hours. An entire psychedelic montage of his own creation. Traveling through kaleidoscopes of color, space, time, scenarios until something unexpected showed up, and as hard as Steve tried to bat it away, it continually returned, splicing his mental music video with clips of someone who had no business being in his brain when he felt open and raw that way. But alone in the darkness, safely in the arms of music, Steve let the thoughts develop, curious to know what would happen if he let go, let it happen, where exactly would they take him. But now, in the harsh light of day, that shame is still branded on his very bones. The heat rises to his cheeks, and though impossible, he's sure that if he doesn't do something about it, people around him will be able to tell. Be able to tell he'd been thinking about someone that way, all alone in the dark.
Steve quickly shoves his hand in his other jacket pocket away from temptation, and his fingertips play with something safe, boring and familiar. Money. Cold hard cash. The easiest mask Steve has in his toolkit. The furthest thing from music he could reach for. Icy, unfeeling, devoid of soul.
He reaches the counter, and the barista smiles broadly at him. "Good morning, Steve. What can I get ya today?" He's taken aback, sure he's never formally introduced himself to this girl before, but he's glad of the smile. A little harmless, friendly flirting couldn't hurt. It might even take his mind off other things.
"Whatever you've got to keep my eyes open." He tilts his head softly, glancing down at the counter and back up to the girl. "Something sweet though, I could do with a little sugar too."
Her eyebrows flash, and she shifts her weight to lean a little on the counter towards him. "I think I know just the thing," she says with a subtle lick of her bottom lip, "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere sailor." Steve happily shakes his head in a no, and wishes Robin was here to see his success.
"Gina, huh? Thought your type was a lot more chaste, Steve," a gravelly voice to his left sends a slight shiver down his spine, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole right now, but instead, he turns to return a polite greeting.
"Good morning to you too, Eddie." He smiles and nods as standard, but his eyes, the traitorous things, linger a little too long, scanning the eyes of the man that had been the cause of him having to buy this coffee in the first place. Eddie looks him up and down in concern, but his expression changes to something mischievous, and he grins at the floor.
"My recommendations worked out for you and your girl, did they?" He nods in Gina's direction while finally looking at Steve again.
"Something like that." He replies, leaning heavily on the tattered edges of the truth, but quickly adds in a whisper, "It wasn't Gina, though."
Eddie's eyes widen, and he chokes a laugh out, and to Steve's pleasant surprise, it's almost a little dorky. That’s endearing. Damn it, he's smiling at him more now. Eddie bites his lip, still grinning, before pressing himself up against Steve's side with an elbow to the ribs, whispering in his ear, "Steve Harrington, you absolute hound!" Eddie laughs again, his usual deep chuckle. Gina snaps a glare at him from the coffee machine. Steve dies a little inside. "Double espresso for me, Genie baby," Eddie charmingly beams back at her whilst Steve does everything he can to keep himself together and not explode into a confetti cannon of embarrassment.
"Eddie! Get in line, like everyone else. How many times do I have to tell you?" She snips.
"Gina! My angel of energy! My friend here was just holding my place in line. Isn't that right, Steve?" Eddie turns to him and smiles, relaxed, his eyelids hooding his deep brown irises that Steve elects to quickly look away from.
"Yeah, that's right." He swallows, and keeps his eyes on Gina now.
"See!" Eddie says, raising his ringed hand to Steve's eyeline to gesture at him. Gina looks between the two of them, but her eyes eventually land on Steve, and her smile returns.
"Well, I have no idea why he's friends with the likes of you, Munson." She puts the two double espressos to go down on the counter, slamming the one nearest Eddie down much harder than the other, which she gently slides over to Steve leaning towards him, "but whatever Steve says…goes," she says, her eyes trailing over him slowly.
"Jesus Christ, Gina! You never heard of the thrill of the chase?" Eddie barks out a laugh, putting his money down on the counter.
"Who says I wanna do any running away?" She smirks, not taking her eyes off Steve.
"That's true. I mean, even walking a few steps ahead of your pursuer would break the habit of a lifetime, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?" Eddie teases as she glances down at the money on the counter.
"You're short, Eddie," she finally turns and bites back, making Eddie shrink a little. "Ten cents." The fun wipes from Eddie’s face as he frantically searches his pockets. Tiny coral-pink triangles start to bloom in the hollows of his cheeks.
"I got it, don't worry about it," Steve interjects quickly to try and get back to the safety of Scoops as soon as possible. He takes Gina's hand gently and puts the money in her upturned palm, grasping her attention again. She puts the money in the register and scribbles on her pad, ripping off a piece of paper.
"A gentleman too?" She says with an approving nod and fans herself, making Eddie roll his eyes. Then, she pushes the piece of paper into Steve's hand. "Pick me up at eight. Wear something nice," she says with a wink before waving around the customer behind them.
Steve gives them both a smile and a wave goodbye as he heads back to the ice cream parlor quickly, sipping his coffee as he goes, though honestly, he doesn't need it anymore. He is wide awake after all of that. Even though he's come out of it relatively unscathed. Eddie is none the wiser, and he's got a date.
Back in the safety of Scoops Ahoy, Steve spies Robin slouching over the counter, waiting on a queue of zero people. He does his best Travolta strut over.
"Wow, you sure that's just coffee in there?" Robin laughs. "It's like you've returned a new man."
Steve forcefully leans over the counter at her with gusto with a massive smile on his face. "I not only have a number but a date tonight at eight!!" He looks very smug.
Robin stretches her hand out towards him, and he hands her the slip of paper. Her eyes scan over it.
"Gina?" Robin says in surprise.
"How did you-" Steve starts to ask before he gets cut off again.
"So she did get fired from the department store! Now she has to serve sad sacks like you and Eddie Munson coffee, I see." Robin nods behind Steve. As he turns, Eddie, holding the small cup to his mouth, initially looking startled, is perfectly framed in one of the windows and gives a little wave back.
"I'll pay you back, dude! Promise!" Eddie shouts before breaking into a speed walk to the record store.
"You bought him a coffee?! Why would you do that?" Robin rolls her eyes like Steve has done the stupidest thing in the world.
"He was a couple of cents short. I don't even want it back, honestly." Steve protests as he takes back the paper from Robin, putting it in his jacket pocket.
"You clearly don't understand what you've done," Robin shouts after him as he goes into the back to reclaim the stupid hat and hang up his stuff.
"Then enlighten me! Please, I'm waiting with bated breath here," he sasses back, secretly smiling to himself, only for it to be wiped from his face quickly as the hatch opens abruptly.
"Ok, first of all, you don't understand the paying back thing because you've never been poor, Steve. So it's ten cents to you. It's shame on us, ok? Secondly, you've fed the neighborhood's stray cat by randomly buying Eddie that coffee! He'll keep coming round here now," Robin whines.
"Ok, first of all," he mimics her, "I didn't buy him anything. He put his own money down. I just gave the extra few cents. Why is it so bad if he comes around here, anyway? He doesn't seem so bad to me, Rob." Steve adjusts his hat in the mirror and shoots a finger gun at himself in acknowledgement that he hadn't been wearing the hat when he got Gina's number, so it must be the thing throwing off his game. He also realizes it's the first time he's shortened her name. He likes it.
"You want a satanic cult leader. In our ice cream shop, normally full of vulnerable kids?" Robin protests, and suddenly something dawns on Steve.
"And, since when do you care about our customers?" Steve asks, joining her out front, one hand on his hip and the other on the tiny coffee cup. He narrows his eyes at her, looking for tells. He finds none but calls her bluff. He feigns surprise and laughs, "Oh my god, is he your ex or something?! Is that why you don't want him hanging around here?"
Robin recoils violently. "Oh my god! No! He's not my type."
"Really?" Steve asks with genuine surprise. Eddie was a non-conformist. He was far from ugly. Both musicians, both took drama and liked accessories. But, maybe he was a bit too rough around the edges and loud for Robin, despite how feisty she could be herself.
"Yes! Really!" She protests again, but there is something else here. Robin doesn't make it a habit to judge anyone that isn't a real piece of work type asshole, and though Eddie could be overwhelming, in their short interaction yesterday, he'd seemed quite nice, and due to their mutual school activities, they must have crossed paths often, so she must have seen that side of him too. Unless, like Steve, Eddie had his own mask to survive high school, which made him generally unpleasant to most people, and only let a select few see his genuine parts.
Steve isn't sure that Robin is precisely lying, but she is definitely hiding something.
****************
Steve pulls up outside Gina's apartment complex at 19:50. He's early, but he absolutely does not want to be late. So he waits exactly where Gina had asked him, and parks up, then sits patiently on his freshly washed car hood.
As he had no idea where they were going yet, he'd opted for something smart casual. The relaxed fit navy blue blazer and slacks combo, and an oh-so-soft pastel blue sweater underneath, perfect for cuddling into if that opportunity arose. Robin and Eddie obviously had made their opinions known on Gina, but he was way too much of a gentleman to make any such assumptions, and people can change.
At 20:08, Gina totters down the steps from the complex in the shortest, lowest cut, tightest, dark purple leather look dress Steve thinks he's seen outside of a music video. She looks incredible. Her body is banging, her makeup is flawless, her permed hair is tossed over in a voluminous side parting, and Steve cannot believe his goddamn luck. Holy shit. She’s a knockout.
He springs into date mode, jogs over to the other side of the street and offers her the crook of his elbow to escort her to the car, "Hey Gina, You look incredible!" Steve greets her beaming proudly.
She pops a chewing gum between her cherry-red lips and says, "You don't look so bad yourself, handsome." At that morsel of praise, Steve's heart soars. He's got it right tonight.
As she takes his arm, and they walk over to the car, he opens the door for her and takes her hand to help her into her seat before he gets in himself, "So, where to?" He asks with a huge smile.
"Ah, well, I thought we'd go to Patty's house party. It's not too far from here. Unless you wanna go somewhere else?" She asks.
"Are you kidding me?" Steve says with a gentle laugh and juts a thumb to himself. "I got the wheels. We can go wherever you want tonight." He turns and smiles reassuringly at her. "Anywhere at all."
She giggles, and Steve has to do everything he can not to rev the engine at his success so far.
As Gina directs, they hit a reasonably long stretch of road, and it falls quiet in the car, "So… What kind of music do you like?" Steve tries, it was a comfort area, and it let him get a little insight at the same time.
"Oh, all the hits, as long as I can dance to it, you know?" Steve's eyes almost tear from the road to look at her fondly. She's a dancer just like him. He tries to not let his excitement get the better of him and pepper her with a million follow-up questions.
It falls quiet again.
"Is it, um, Patty's birthday or something?" He asks as she reapplies her lipstick again in the pull-down mirror.
"Nah, nothing like that. She's got the biggest free house. Plus, it's right around the corner from the liquor store. It's just here. Look. Take a right." She replies.
They make their way into the party. Steve grabs the bottle of wine from the back seat and quickly moves around to her door to open it and assist her before locking up and offering his arm again. It earns him another melodic giggle, "Such manners, Steve. Is this how you treat all your dates?" She asks playfully, and he knows she means no harm, but unfortunately, it's the first dent in Steve's confidence tonight. She already knew he’s on a losing streak regarding keeping a girlfriend. He tries to see the positive. At least she seemed to like him, and she didn't know he'd recently had trouble getting any dates. He supposes that could give him some kind of playboy status.
It has been a while since Steve had been to a house party like this. It’s rammed with people, primarily seniors but as with Gina, himself and Patty, a few recent graduates too. The girls squeal with delight, throwing their hands into the air as they greet one another, and Gina pulls him forward to be introduced, "Patty, this is Steve. Steve, this is Patty." Steve gives her a big smile and a nod.
"Looks like it's gonna be a killer party. Here, hope you don't mind," he says, passing Patty the wine bottle. She pulls an impressed face and looks over at Gina, raising her eyebrows. Patty's boyfriend gives him a nod.
The party is much more fun than Steve anticipates. Gina likes to dance. A lot. With a little more physical enthusiasm than Steve was used to, but my god, he is the envy of the room. She likes to show Steve off to her friends and kisses him so many times he loses count. She looked incredible at the start of the evening, but she might be the most beautiful creature to walk the planet with how adored she was makes Steve feel. Steve makes a mental note to introduce her to his Mom when she's back in town.
After a small succession of kisses on the swings in Patty's back garden, Gina excuses herself to use the bathroom, "I'll be right back, handsome. Wait here for me? Don't go running off with any other pretty girls, now." She sends him a dazzling smile and a wink, and the love-whipped puppy, previously known as Steve Harrington, nods obediently as she walks inside. Then flicks his eyes to the night sky with a happy sigh.
"Don't fancy the slide, instead, Harrington?" A voice grins from the darkness.
"Eddie? What are you doing here, man?" Steve says in happy surprise. He's still floating around on cloud nine. Eddie sits on the tree stump opposite Steve and lights up a cigarette. The awkward feelings around Eddie were almost all gone. Or at least buried. It was a one-off, just a mixture of unique circumstances. The shame was still in there somewhere, but Gina had eclipsed it all for tonight.
"Oh, you know, I was at the bar, and heard someone mention that one of my old friends was gonna show here, so I tagged along." He offers the pack over to Steve, who declines and pops a chewing gum in his mouth. Eddie gives him a knowing smile, and Steve grins back and pushes himself on the swing a little, trying to channel some of that excitable energy somewhere."Going that well, huh?" He asks, raising his eyebrow as he pockets the carton.
Steve is desperately trying to remain cool, calm and collected about everything, but he's elated his losing streak is over, and what a woman to end it with. "Honestly, it's going a lot better than I thought it was going to."
"Yeah?" Eddie asks leadingly.
"Yeah," Steve says simply with a sigh, and that's when Eddie's expression changes, his mouth parts a little, but before he can say anything, someone calls out for him.
Patty rushes over, swaying a little, throws her arms around Eddie's neck, and hugs him. Eddie's face is a picture of panic, and Steve hides his laugh behind his hand.
"What you got on you then?" Patty slurs, looking up at Eddie and batting her eyelashes, and suddenly Eddie looks relieved and pulls out a few small bags of weed from inside his leather jacket. Steve observes him with confusion. Eddie said he was on pause dealing-wise.
"Thirty bucks for this little trio," Eddie offers with a toothy smile.
"Thirty!! Come on, Eddie, seriously. I can get twice as much for less," she complains and tugs at his denim vest.
He leans in and says quietly, "Yes, that is true, but I'm right here, and they're not right?" Then he pulls the same face he did at Steve in the record store. He knows he's won.
"Well," she steps closer to him again, and Steve sees Eddie visibly tense as Patty runs her hand up his chest, "Maybe we can come to a different arrangement, Eddie?"
Eddie clears his throat, and his eyes dart to Steve. "Oh hey, Steve, fancy meeting you here." His words are a desperate plea for help, and mischief swirls in Steve. Of course, he could just excuse himself and leave them to it, but something keeps him there, and as Patty turns, he sends her a little wave.
"Yeah, just out for some fresh air," Steve offers, and Eddie relaxes immediately as Patty creates some distance between them. She looks at Steve wide-eyed.
"Oh, hi again, Steve. Having a good night?" She asks nervously.
"It's a really great party, Patty. I'm having the best time," He answers genuinely.
She relaxes and smiles hugely at him. "It was really nice of you to come. Thanks for the wine and for helping Gina out tonight."
Steve smiles back, but he's a little confused. How was he helping Gina out? But before Steve can frame a question, Patty jumps ahead a few steps and answers.
"You're putting on a real show out there. It looks amazing. Though, if I may suggest, you are actually way too nice for her, so you might want to ease off on that a little." Patty enthusiastically reviews their date as Steve's eyebrows raise, and he blinks slowly.
"Hey Patty, how about twenty, huh?" Eddie puts a hand on her shoulder and tries to turn her towards himself, offering her the baggies again. She shrugs him off but fishes the money out of her pocket, her eyes still on Steve.
"Ohhh no," Patty says, overtly pouting her lips to indicate sadness, "widdle Stevie, didn't know." Steve stands up. His heart is pounding.
"Hey, that's enough!" Eddie says sharply to Patty.
"Oh, shut up, Eddie. Everyone knows she turns up to these things with someone and always leaves with Frankie. They're like Kismet or Kermit or whatever." She waves her hands drunkenly in the air.
"Everyone?" Steve asks in a whisper, and his eyes move from Patty to Eddie, who is frowning deeply. Steve folds his arms, "No, you're wrong. You'll see," he says and takes off back into the party. He can hear Eddie faintly calling after him until he hits the wall of music and chatter of the house.
He looks around for Gina, moving swiftly between rooms, as the flurry of panic starts to set in deep in his chest. They can't be right. Then finally, he catches the sight of her perfectly coiffed hair and pins himself to the other side of the wall, so he can hear her talking without being spotted.
"Are you kidding me? He's not a patch on you, honey. Not nearly as manly as I like, you know? Just a good little boy. Not my big strong bad boy Frankie." He can hear the purr in her voice, and it's followed by a deep chuckle from someone else.
An invisible force punches Steve straight in the guts, forcing all the air from his lungs. The dents in the carapace of his confidence get a few new deep siblings as he dusts himself off and sets off to leave. He knows he should be mad. He should be angry. He should march in there and give them a piece of his mind, but he feels completely numb. What he does do, however, is stop by the kitchen, take back his wine and a random bottle of mad dog 20/20, and slump off to his car.
As he gets closer, he sees a silhouette of someone sitting on the hood of his car. The jingle of them getting off it abruptly and moving quickly towards him lets him know it's Eddie.
"Steve, man, I'm sorry. That fucking sucks. Are you ok?" Eddie tries to reach out and hold his shoulders, but Steve steps back out of reach. Sure, he's deflated, but he doesn't have the reason or the energy to be mad at Eddie.
"You've got nothing to apologize for. No one does. It's not anyone else's fault that I'm too dumb to know what, apparently, everyone else knows," he says a little glumly but finishes it with a half smile and shrug as he moves around him to get in his car, but Eddie, being the scrawny beanpole he is, slips in between Steve and the door.
"Hey, I get it. She got me too. Except, you know I wasn't as good about it as you are." Eddie is talking to him, but Steve is simply trying to unlock his door and ignores him."And you know I would have warned you explicitly if it wasn't you, you know?" That gets Steve's attention.
"What do you mean if it wasn't me?" He asks, turning to face Eddie, whose face is much closer to his than he'd realized, and it causes a mini jump in his pulse. Had Eddie wanted to see Steve made a fool of?
One corner of Eddie's mouth ticks up. "You're Steve Harrington. King of Hawkins. If Gina was gonna change her spots for anyone, I would have put money on it being you." Eddie says it sincerely, but it makes Steve feel worse.
"Ex-King of Hawkins," Steve says, shaking his head, trying to move around Eddie without pushing him away. He wants to leave, but he isn't mad at Eddie.
"And-and the way she was with you at the coffee place. I mean, I thought she was into you. Anyone would have thought that, man. Besides, she was probably totally into you, I mean, look at you, but this guy, this Frankie, they're, like, weirdly obsessed with one another, and then the next minute not speaking to one another," Eddie desperately explains, and Steve can tell he's trying hard to make him feel better about all this.
That's when Steve makes a new category of mistake. He looks up at Eddie's face. His sad eyes meet Eddie's big compassionate ones, glinting with yellow specks of the street light.
"It's weird, honestly," Eddie finishes gently, and Steve gives him an understanding smile back.
"Thanks, man. I get it. I'll be fine. It's just a big misunderstanding. I'll go home, get wasted, and pass out. Then, wake up, and start over. I've bounced back from worse," Steve assures and gives Eddie a playful thump on the shoulder. "You're alright, you know that?" Steve actually manages a small genuine smile as he allows himself to compliment Eddie.
"Do you want some company? I got treats!" Eddie says, holding up three little bags of weed at Steve.
"How many of those do you have on you?" Steve huffs out a little laugh, and Eddie's smile widens.
"Just these three," Eddie smirks, pocketing them again.
"No, you sold three to Patty," Steve corrects him. Eddie leans back against Steve's car door and makes a show of looking thoughtful for a moment before he clicks his fingers like he remembers something.
"Oh darn it. I must have accidentally given her my bags of oregano. Good job you're so astute, Harrington. Otherwise, dinner times next week would have been very interesting." Eddie smiles mischievously, and Steve erupts with a laugh.
"You didn't!" He says, scandalized.
"I wasn't going to until she poked fun at you. Totally uncalled for. Also might have relieved myself in an empty and dropped it in their vat of punch." Eddie shrugs like it's nothing and then blinks up at Steve. "Is that enough to gain entry to a much better afterparty?"
That thing that snapped free in Steve when he was lying on the rug, immersed in the music and thoughts inspired by Eddie, vibrates within him.
He shouldn't.
He really shouldn't invite anyone back to his house when he feels like this, especially when his intention is to drink himself into forgetting all about Gina.
He absolutely shouldn't let down his guard to someone he's really only got to know the last few days.
He definitely shouldn't specifically welcome the man that resurrected the most secret, sinful parts of Steve into his home, where they would be alone together.
Steve can't decide, so he lets fate decide. "You got any more recommendations on you?"
"Shit, yeah! A fucking van full!" Eddie says enthusiastically.
And with that, Steve ignores every warning sign his brain throws up at him.
"Alright then. Follow me."
************
Eddie's van tails Steve's BMW along the inky black roads of Hawkins, intermittently interrupted by street lights when venturing through a more built-up area.
He turns up the radio a little to try to quieten the confused knot of feelings in his stomach. There was no question he was still feeling shockwaves from recently being absolutely crushed this evening, but now the excitement of something else tickles at the inside of his stomach. Him, Eddie and Music. Some of his private salacious thoughts rush through his mind again.
Steve would be more alarmed by them if it weren't for a few things.
Firstly this is not the first time Steve has had impure thoughts about a man. It just wasn't something he was gonna advertise in small-town Hawkins. Especially as he is one hundred per cent not just into guys. He'd sneakily read about it in the library and vowed as soon as he had the means it was definitely the big city for him, a place where other people like him could live much freer lives.
Secondly, he had heard things about Eddie, and he is sure it was because they labeled him a devil worshiper or monster that the town also whispered about him being into the more, what some of the stuck-up people of Hawkins might consider the debauched side of life. He'd heard that when people threw homophobic slurs at him, he played up to them. Flirted with his persecutors to scare people more, but honestly, he had just added that to the massive pile of slanderous gossip about Eddie. Prior to yesterday, he had always assumed that by being in a band, Eddie got his fair share of women. But now he wasn't so sure. Maybe tonight, he'd find out.
Thirdly the only person Steve knew of that had ever assumed him to be anything but straight was his father. So if that rumor started, Steve is confident he could squash it reasonably quickly.
Fourth, and this was probably the cruelest of his thoughts. If he did accidentally say too much or give something away to Eddie tonight, who on earth would believe known degenerate Eddie over golden boy Steve?
Steve had fooled around with just one guy before, Tommy, and always, always, always when they were wasted or high. Tommy said it didn't count, and honestly, Steve didn't mind. He liked Tommy, well, when he wasn't being a complete asshole, but it was more an avenue of mutual exploration than a relationship.
Tommy was handsome, but he was two-dimensional. All their shared interests were superficial. Maybe it was because they had been friends for so long that there wasn't anything to peel back and get his teeth into. He was enough to quicken his pulse, but that had been more to do with the thrill of doing something so forbidden than the man himself. Tommy didn't move Steve.
But Eddie.
Eddie might.
With no other cars on the driveway, he waves Eddie forward up to the house once Steve parks up.
He grabs the bottles from his car and sees Eddie emerge with his little lunch box and his arms laden with tapes. Steve unlocks the front door into the dark house and heads inside, Eddie close behind.
"Your folks in bed?" Eddie whispers.
"No, they're out of town. Work, you know?" Steve puts the wine back in the kitchen wine rack and holds up the glass liquor bottle contained within, "Wanna get straight to it, or would you prefer some beers first?" Steve asks with a happy host smile. Eddie is still marveling at the house, his round eyes searching the darkness. Steve wonders what for.
"Just a beer, thank you," Eddie says slowly, entirely distracted by everything.
"The hi-fi is just through there in the den, or if you wanna smoke, we can sit by the pool?" Steve offers, seeing Eddie's arms still full of tapes.
"What time are your folks back?" Eddie calls back from further away now, as Steve hears the clatter of plastic cassette boxes and the jingle of Eddie's wallet chain as he returns. There must be something special in that, having your own noise, so people know it's you.
"I dunno, not until next week, though, I imagine," Steve says, offering Eddie one of the two beer cans.
Eddie's eyebrows knit. "Next week? Are you for real?"
"Yeah, once I got my license, they stopped getting a nanny in." Steve laughs.
"Was that a joke?" Eddie says, laughing too.
"I mean, I tried. Unfortunately, I'm no Steve Martin." Steve shrugs and smiles happily at Eddie as he stabs and shotguns his beer.
"Who are you, and what happened to sad Steve?" Eddie's eyes narrowly playfully. He wraps his arm around himself as he observes him and takes a sip of his own can.
"You want me to go get him? I'm sure he's around here somewhere…." Steve looks behind one of the drapes.
Eddie's head tilts with pure amusement, and that nice smile spreads across his face again as he observes Steve, "My god, funny too, huh?" There is something in the way his voice softly wraps around the words that sets a slight panic in Steve, almost reaching for the light switch to plunge them into the safety of bright light. Instead, his brain gives him a subject change.
"Shit, what about your friend at the party? Did you get a chance to speak to them?" Steve runs his hand through his hair, realizing he's probably ruined Eddie's night too.
He simply shrugs in reply, then changes the subject himself. "What's with all the candles in there? Did your power go out?" Eddie gestures back to the den. Steve closes his eyes, remembering he hadn't cleaned up in there yet, and then a real fear creeps over him, hoping that he hadn't left anything else incriminating in there.
Steve half-lies quickly. "Oh, ambience!"
Eddie points back at him. "Yeah, of course, your girl from last night. Setting the scene for seduction," Eddie says, pretending to swoon.
"Well, more for relaxing than romance in particular, but sometimes one can lead to another," Steve says, and he does let that hang in the air for a while to see if there is any reaction from Eddie. Sadly nothing to help him assess him further. Maybe it was too subtle. "Do you maybe wanna head out for a smoke?" Steve asks, turning to get himself another beer.
"Now that is much more my brand of relaxing," Eddie laughs, grabbing his lunchbox.
Steve catches up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Wait, how about you pick out a tape? I'll grab the boom box."
Eddie's eyes move to Steve's hand on his shoulder first, then to his face, with a blink, "Yeah." Steve shakes Eddie's shoulder and gives it a good old sports pat before removing it entirely. He watches Eddie's face for any signs, and he's pretty sure the smile he gives him before he walks towards the treasure trove of tapes is one of disappointed realization. Or maybe Steve had all his hopes resting on that being the case. Hope is such poisoned manna. Maybe physicality wasn't the way to get Eddie to reveal a little more. Maybe Steve could try something else to find the answers to his questions. Something Eddie loves to do. Talk about himself.
Steve sets up the player between two loungers and turns on the pool lights. Ambience, he thinks, though honestly, the waning moon is setting the scene enough for him. He doesn’t wanna make it too obvious. He kicks up his feet on the lounger, sips at his beer, and waits. After a few minutes, he starts to get a little concerned, but as soon as he sits up, Eddie arrives with an entire box of tapes and an excitable smile.
"I, uh, couldn't decide what you might like, so I just brought them all out and found a box in the kitchen; hope you don't mind. Just easier to move 'em around," Eddie excuses and thunks down onto the lounger next to Steve’s. "So take your pick," he says, gesturing at the box and pulling a pre-rolled joint out of his pocket, which he lights up quickly.
This isn't really what Steve wants. He wants Eddie to show him around what Eddie likes. He wants to hear him gush over riffs and lyrics. Tell him how it feels when he plays them, and show him how his dexterous fingers leave no part of the fretboard untouched. But Steve recognises Eddie's apprehension and decides to play the game at least. He reaches into the box with one hand, sorting through the tapes, and with the other, without taking his eyes from the music collection, makes a come hither motion at the joint, which, pleasingly, Eddie acknowledges without protest, and Steve soon finds it slotted between his fingers as he pretends to peruse the album artwork and track listings.
He can feel Eddie's eyes on him, and out of the corner of his eye, he observes Eddie's hands on his thigh and knee and sometimes, when Steve picks up or hovers over a particular tape, his fingers tense, possibly with excitement Steve guesses. He takes a long drag on the shared substance.
To Steve's surprise, the selection of tapes is more varied than he thought. Sure, there is a lot of what he guesses from the names, titles, or artwork are metal, rock, and punk, but there is a chart hits compilation, some new wave electronic stuff, country and classical. Steve hands back the joint and takes a sharp intake of breath as he sits up.
"You know, Eddie. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the choices here."
"Ah, too many? Sorry. I just didn't know what you'd wanna listen to." Eddie nods apologetically, and something in the way he says it makes Steve wonder if too many or too much is his habit. Maybe he'd been hurt before by people telling him he was too much.
"Well, how about this? How about instead of this being about what I like," Steve looks up to him with a friendly smile, "you show me what you like. Maybe it'll be the same." He gives a little shrug and wonders if Eddie might pick up on any subtext.
"Doubt it," Eddie laughs with a quick glance up at Steve from the tapes.
"Oh, ye of little faith. I really liked the Hendrix one, best out of the three." Steve offers him a guiding thread to assist. He would continue about how he will probably play it to death, but as he looks over, Eddie's face reads excited already.
"Really?" He says, and the innocence of the question makes Steve feel like he's in middle school again. Making friends over sports or movies, but then suspicion rears its ugly little head, and Eddie folds his arms and leans forward. "Oh yeah? Tell me what you liked about it."
Steve doesn't want to give away too much of himself. "Foxey Lady is a fun track, and Fire." Eddie rolls his eyes a little and nods.
"You like Purple Haze too, I bet?" Eddie says a little condescendingly, and he's unsure if it's the beer and weed starting to mix on no food because he didn't know if he was going to dinner with Gina, but Steve feels a little insulted.
"Well, who the fuck doesn't like Purple Haze?" Steve fires back. "It's a great piece of music."
"Whoa-ho-ho, Harrington. Don't get your little panties in a twist. I was just guessing." Eddie chuckles, putting his hands up defensively, offering the olive branch of the joint back to Steve, who takes a pretty deep inhale from it and sends it right back, picking up his beer.
"No, you weren't. I mentioned some popular songs, and you immediately judged me, thinking that's all I listened to when that is not the case at all! Also, that's why they are popular, by the way, because they're great songs. So you could maybe get off your high horse about it." Steve complains and puts Eddie in his place. Or so he thinks.
Eddie's grin widens, and that sparkle in his eye returns, and now Steve can't work out if he's walked right into something or if Eddie is simply amused. His hand extends to him again, and Steve, though a little confused, accepts the smoke and takes another hit.
"I also really liked 'Manic Depression'," Steve adds much more gently, opening the door to his true feelings, a crack, "How it details in the words and melody his relationship with music, the emotion behind in 'The Wind Cries Mary', and that bluesy feel to 'Red House'. Those songs also easily transport you someplace else." Steve says, taking a glug from his can and, realizing it's empty, standing up to get another.
"Wait-wait-wait," Eddie says hurriedly, looking up at him. "Here, I picked this up on the way past too." He holds up the glass bottle that Steve selected from Patty's party. Steve takes it from him and sits back down, knocking back a swig and wincing at the taste and heat, but Eddie ignores it. He has other things to address. "What do you mean someplace else?" He leans forward over the tape box towards Steve, eyeing him like a scientist looks at their specimen.
"In your imagination, you know, the music takes you somewhere else." Steve shrugs, taking another swig as Eddie sips his beer.
"Where'd it take you?" Eddie asks, tilting his head, and though Steve's heart rate quickens at the thought of the truth, he sees an opportunity.
"You sure do ask a lot of questions. What if we trade? I'll answer yours, you answer mine? That seems fairer to me." Steve doesn't have to wait long for a reply, but he’s stalling to craft an answer that doesn't involve revealing more than he wants to.
"Yeah, sure," Eddie says, brushing it off. "So where did they take you, these songs?"
"Ah-ah-ah, Eddie. You gotta answer one first," Steve teases, and Eddie, denied an answer to his question, folds his arms. Steve adds to his assessment.
Adorable sulking face.
"Fine," Eddie pouts.
"So, the three tapes you gave me were great, exactly what I needed, and I thought, how does a guy get so knowledgeable about this kinda stuff, and then I remembered you were in a band, you play, er, bass, right? So I naturally assumed-" Steve lies. He wants to avoid coming across as knowing too much about Eddie.
"Lead guitar, actually. Sing a little too," Eddie interrupts proudly and waves Steve on to continue with his question.
"So I assumed that you must have girls throwing themselves at you? Right?" Steve asks with as innocent curiosity as he can muster.
"More girls throw themselves at me for drugs than music, but that could change. The stuff I play is becoming more popular," Eddie replies, and Steve tries to see what he can get out of a few quickfire questions.
"Oh, so you're inundated with women then?" Steve asks with a raise of his eyebrow.
"No," Eddie answers.
"Right, you must have a girlfriend…"
"No. Listen, are we here to discuss music or my love life?" Eddie defends, and Steve feels like he must have touched a nerve, so he tries some humor.
He mimics Eddie’s hand gestures and voice from earlier. "Whoa-ho-ho, Munson! Don't get your panties in a knot about it!" And that is enough to make Eddie laugh. "Jesus, I was just getting to know you. After all, you've had a front-row seat to my car crash love life tonight." Steve self-deprecates and laughs, but Eddie doesn't.
"I'm sorry, man. I wish I'd just said something in the coffee line, but I swear what I said earlier was absolutely true. If it had been anyone other than you, I wouldn't have thought they stood a chance and warned them," Eddie says with genuine regret.
Steve takes a swig out of the bottle and reassures him, "Not the first time I got my confidence destroyed at a house party. Maybe it won't be the last, but like I said, I bounce back well enough. Last time was a whole lot worse. Met her parents, told her I loved her and meant it, and thought she did too. Turns out she didn't." Steve glances up at Eddie, who looks sad for him. "Anyway, back to why we're here. Pick a damn tape, Eddie, would ya?" Steve laughs, trying to lift the mood, and holds out the liquor bottle to him, but Eddie declines.
"Can't get too wasted. Otherwise, getting home is gonna be more of a challenge." He smiles down into the tapes.
"You can stay over if you want. There's plenty of room." Steve offers, maybe too quickly. He takes another drink to style it out.
Eddie looks up and acts all shy. "Wow, Harrington! Take a guy to dinner first," he chuckles and grins at Steve, who nearly spits out his drink.
Composing himself a little, he replies, "If I order pizza, does that count as dinner?" Steve smirks.
Eddie flips his hair over his shoulder with a flick of his hand after pushing play on the tape deck, "It's a little less than I was expecting to be wined and dined by Steve Harrington, but, uh, it'll do." He says as he grabs the bottle from Steve and takes a sip, "Holy shit, urgh." He grimaces as the night air fills with chugging guitar riffs, and a voice fills the air that Steve has definitely never heard before.
Eddie happily gestures to the boom box with both hands. "This is the self-titled album by W.A.S.P.”
Steve chuckles, “I know how to spell Wasp!”
Eddie shakes his head, “No you say Wasp but they are actually W.A.S.P.” He beams at Steve and taps the metal pin on his vest, then takes a deep breath, ”anyway It contains such mind-shredding tracks as The Flame, Tormentor, The Torture Never Stops and Show no Mercy, which has one of the finest dick-twitching solos I've ever played." Steve sees Eddie literally shudder, and he's drawn in immediately. This is what he wanted, but before he can push for more information, Eddie is out of his seat pacing around the loungers. "Also the more famous, 'I Wanna Be Somebody', 'Hellion', even a spine chilling cover of 'Paint it Black' by The Stones. For the more romantic souls out there, 'L.O.V.E Machine', 'Sleeping in the fire' and 'Animal' which is more commonly known as," and he leans right down to Steve's ear, "‘I fuck like a beast’. Which is what you're listening to right now." With a laugh, he takes another swing from the bottle, shoving it back into Steve's chest, and walks back around to his lounger, props one foot on it, and starts air guitaring and headbanging along to the song. Steve grips the lounger beneath him for dear life. He swears right there he's gonna get them tickets to every fucking W.A.S.P show he can, and he'll definitely need to buy this album now. Tomorrow, first thing.
"You can play all these?" Steve says, trying not to sound too in awe. Eddie doesn't look up from his fingers on the imaginary fretboard, and honestly, Steve doesn't blame him.
"Pretty much. Better at my favorites or the ones we play in the band." Steve needs to see that, or maybe that would undo him completely. Maybe best not to. Steve imagines how he looks on stage, sweating under the lights, straining as he yells into the microphone. "So where did it take you?"
"What?" Steve asks, wholly lost in his thoughts.
"Maybe you should slow down there, champ. Are you alright? You look a little flushed." Eddie stops what he's doing and goes over to his little lunch box, retrieves a small candy bar, and sits next to Steve on the lounger, placing it in Steve's lap. "Lemme see." Eddie grasps Steve's jaw in one hand and examines him, his eyes comically wide as he analyzes him, making Steve giggle. Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile, and taps his face, snatches up the candy bar and tosses it back in his lunch pail. "You're good." He shrugs off his jackets and leans against the backrest of Steve’s lounger, a long leg on either side of the part where Steve is sitting, making their legs graze one another occasionally as he sparks up a cigarette, which he balances in the corner of his lips. "Hendrix, where did it take you?"
The sudden display of open confidence, the way he just splays his long limbs out like that. Like he owns the place, makes something squirm inside of Steve, and maybe he feels a little shy now, saying, "I dunno, maybe it's lame." Eddie frowns as he plucks the cigarette from his mouth.
"I'll let you know if it's lame." He says, blowing smoke rings in the air.
"Er. It's difficult to explain, but sorta like things I know from that era and sound, psychedelic colors, and then like imagining watching it live," Steve's mind takes him right back to last night, "and 'Hey Joe' was like being pulled into a landscape painting, 'Are you experienced?' and 'Stone Free' was like moving through outer space, you know? Maybe I'm talking shit, but that's where I went anyway," Steve finishes, avoiding Eddie's eyes a little, as when he says it aloud for the first time, it loses all its magic.
"You listen to all music like that? I mean, go places?" Eddie mutters the question softly, and Steve chances to look over, and Eddie's expression almost looks hopeful.
"No, it just kinda happens sometimes. Like a daydream almost, and then I get these like tingles-" Steve starts, but Eddie finishes.
"Along your neck and arms?" And now Steve can hear the excitement in his voice, so he turns to him and indicates along his cheekbones, arms and legs.
"Yeah, kinda," Steve replies, and it doesn't feel bad at all having Eddie's eyes move over him like that.
"Do you play an instrument?" Eddie asks, sitting forward towards Steve now, his eyes eager for answers. Steve doesn't want to get his hopes up too high, but Eddie has not ridiculed him. Hasn't made an awkward face or an excuse to leave. If anything, he wants more, and with that power shift again, Steve tries something else. He leans back on his elbows across the lounger, his arm resting a little on Eddie's leg, and stretches out his torso comfortably.
"Eddie," he smiles, "I gotta get some questions in, too, you know?"
"Oh yeah, shoot, dude," Eddie says matter-of-factly.
"Are you gonna bite my head off again if I ask about your love life?" Steve asks with a laugh.
"Fine, as long as you tell me why you're so interested because I'd much rather be talking about music, honestly." And with a reply like that, it's almost as if Steve already has his answer.
"Look, in the record store, you were selling me that Mötley Crüe album, happy as anything, and I knew you were in a band, so my brain just assumed you were like a chick magnet, just maybe not the ones from school, you know? But then you got all nervous when I asked you about music girls liked, and whilst there isn't anything wrong with that, it wasn't what I expected. So does that explain better?"
Eddie looks a little sheepish but then smiles and shrugs. "Sorry to burst your Eddie Munson bubble there, Harrington."
Steve gestures at himself. "It's overrated. Living proof right before your eyes. Music doesn't let you down like that, though, huh?" And that earns him a sweet smile, "So tell me to fuck off at any point, but I sort of can't believe it, honestly. So is it that you don't have a girlfriend right now, or like never have?"
"Define girlfriend," Eddie says, playing with his rings.
"A girl you've taken on a date," Steve says.
"Yeah, I've had a girlfriend or two then," Eddie says, but Steve doesn't detect any fun glimmers of nostalgia, but that squashed one Hawkins rumor about Eddie, he obviously liked girls.
"But…" Steve leads him a bit further.
"But that was literally it. We just went to the movies or the diner for milkshakes," Eddie says, a little disappointed.
"You ever taken Robin, the girl I work with, on a date?" Steve pries a little further.
"Not a date as such. We just used to hang around one another a lot for a while, and then, erm," Eddie looks thoughtfully into the sky, "then I guess I asked her something, probably too personal, and I'm definitely not telling you what it is, so don't ask, and she's kind of avoided me since." Eddie looks regretful, and Steve decides to give him a break.
"I don't play an instrument. I tried a bunch of different ones but could never get one to stick. Even tried singing, which I'm ok at, but you know, not opera or anything like that." Steve sighs and looks up to the night sky. "No matter how much I love music, I just don't have the talent to make or mimic it, apparently."
"Maybe you just had a shit, stuck-up teacher," Eddie says quickly, and that does bite of a lived experience. "When I was a kid before I moved here. I had this teacher; all he wanted to teach me was like campfire songs to do with god or nursery rhymes. I learned enough to find my way around the acoustic, but then, well, I couldn't go anymore, but honestly, by that point, I didn't want to. He sucked." Eddie raises his eyes to Steve, "But then I got here. Just my clothes and my guitar slung across my back and moved in with my Uncle. Now that guy taught me how to play. We figured out that I could actually, when not being bullied into some kumbaya shit, play by ear, and when I'd get stuck, Wayne would help me. He showed me all his anti-war favorites and even started off my savings for the guitar I have now. He got me a second-hand electric pretty quickly and amps. He's good like that. Finding the best bits of people and nurturing them. Probably regrets it a little now, though." Eddie laughs with so much fondness in his voice.
"I bet he doesn't. I bet he loves seeing how much you enjoy playing." Steve nods at the sky.
"If you wanted, I could help you learn guitar. Well, what I know anyway," Eddie says kindly, which makes Steve ignore the entire cosmos and focus on him.
"What, like what we're listening to now? Play like you?" Steve blurts out excitedly.
Eddie tries to hide his smile, "Well, anything you like, really, and I can't guarantee you'd be as good as me, but we'd try," he says as the repressed smile breaks out across his face, and Steve gives him a little playful shove, and this time Eddie returns it.
"Alright, you're on. I'll take a look at guitars tomorrow." Steve grins back.
"You can borrow one of mine if you like? It's no problem" Eddie shrugs like it's nothing, and Steve nervously swallows. God, he wants this. Wants Eddie. Wants someone who knows what he means when he explains how a song makes him feel. Who doesn't laugh at him or make a face and knows so much. Eddie feels like a drug that would be the multi gateway to everything he could possibly need. They sit silently for a minute or so, "The girlfriend thing. I, uh, well, I stopped trying because I'd get so nervous. The date would be fine, you know, I can talk the ears off of the corn harvest, but, uh, I'd just bottle it at the goodbye. I just built it up in my head too much, I think. I just wanted to get it right, and when presented with the opportunity, I thought I was gonna fuck it up, so I'd just hug them goodbye. Then they'd think I didn't like them, but I'm too much of a coward to admit I was scared, so I just stopped trying."
"Well, you're not a coward. Navigating girls can be terrifying, Eddie, and maybe," Steve turns on his side towards Eddie on the lounger, propping his head up on his hand, "maybe you just had a bunch of shit, stuck-up teachers."
"Yeah, well, if kissing lessons were something I could buy, Harrington, believe me, I would have already invested heavily a long time ago." Eddie laughs, playing with his rings again, and Steve's so happy that Eddie isn't looking at him right now because he is literally chewing on his bottom lip, desperately trying to find a way to gently prod the opportunity the universe just chucked into his lap. Come on, Steve.
"Well, if I'd known there was a market for that sort of thing, maybe I wouldn't have to be working slinging ice cream to attitude-filled kids loaded up on sugar." Steve laughs, looking down at and playing with the material threads of the lounger, and then glances up at Eddie subtly.
Steve's heart skips when he finds Eddie looking up at him from under his hair, frozen, mid-picking at his nails.
"How many first kisses do you think you've been?" Eddie asks, and Steve can hear the curious caution in every word.
Fighting his every urge, Steve breaks eye contact to look up, like he's pretending to remember them all. He doesn't actually know. "Oh tons, and you know it is exactly what you said. It's all just nerves. Most of them get much better once the first one's over. Probably the same as the first time you played on stage. I'm guessing here, but you probably still get a little nervous now, but not enough to stop you, right?" Eddie makes a thoughtful noise in response, and Steve hopes he's done enough leading, but all he really wants is a red or green light to let him know what to do next, but they're sort of stuck in a kind of limbo, and he can feel the tension in him, stretching, and any minute now it's just going to snap. "I think you'll find it easy once you get past the nerves, sure there are some dos and don'ts, but, it's mostly playing it by ear, reading the other person, and from what you've said, those things come easily to you, right?"
"Right." Eddie agrees, "How did you learn, or did it just happen organically, like when it's supposed to?" Steve almost feels a little sorry for him, and he could tell the truth here, that it had just naturally occurred sitting on the porch with his middle school girlfriend watching the sunset, or he could bend the truth a little, maybe making Eddie feel better and nudge at this situation simultaneously.
Steve readjusts his position. He sits up and straddles the lounger, mirroring Eddie, facing one another. "If I tell you, you are absolutely sworn to secrecy. Ok? Like to the grave!" Steve says as seriously as he can, and Eddie perks up. His eyes revert to an excited look as they scan Steve, hungry for secrets, with a couple of enthusiastic nods. "No, you gotta swear. I mean it! I'd never live it down." Steve lays it on thick as he looks Eddie right in the eyes.
He frowns slightly to show his earnestness, "I swear, man. I would never tell. Also, even if I wanted to, that would involve exposing myself too. Why was I talking about first kisses with Steve Harrington in the first place, right?"
"Yeah," Steve makes a show of relaxing a little, and Eddie shuffles forward a little, leaning into the secret. "So believe it or not, before my first kiss, I was much like yourself, nervous about it, and I was talking to my best friend about it, and they felt the same, so we kinda, uh, practiced with one another?"
Eddie deflates a little. "Oh, I see. Well, that's not so bad. Handy to have a willing girlfriend around to help out." Eddie forces an awkward laugh.
"It wasn't my girlfriend, Eddie. It was my best friend," Steve says, hammering down each word like the heaviest hints of all time.
"You know what I mean, a friend who's a girl," Eddie says, and Steve really doesn't want to have to spell it out, but it looks like he might have to. He adds to his Eddie assessment.
Intelligent but can't read between the lines.
"I've not had a girl best friend since kindergarten, Eddie." Steve tries again.
Eddie looks horrified. "You were kissing in kindergarten? Jesus! Way to make me feel even worse about all of…" and then he stalls, like his brain engine full on cuts out. His eyes move around the lounger in between them like he's solving the meaning of life, and suddenly his head lifts, and his eyes lock with Steve's, "Your first kiss wasn't with a girl? I-I mean…your friend…it was a boy. The one you practiced kissing with was a boy. A boy?" Steve can't hold back his laughter and just nods, putting a hand on either side of his own face like he's mortified.
"Please don't tell anyone, Eddie. I just wanted you to know, as much as it would appear, I'm pretty confident in that department now. I was just as nervous as you once." Steve smiles, and his heart is pounding hard. It was a risk. A big one, but if it meant either squashing this crush or the impossibility that maybe this could happen, he needed to take it.
"Right, ok," Eddie says, and it makes Steve a little concerned because he sounds a little panicked. Steve's heart sinks.
"Want another beer? I'm gonna go get one," Steve says, using his chipper customer service mask. He makes sure to smile big at Eddie like he isn't getting his heart crushed for the second time this evening, though this time is entirely his fault.
"Yeah, I could go for another beer," Eddie says without looking at Steve. Well, at least he didn't want to leave immediately. That was one good thing, Steve thinks as he walks as casually as possible to the fridge, ducks his head inside it, and curses.
"Shit!" He whispers and takes a deep breath before grabbing two cans. Then he hears a faint jingle.
"Is it much different?" Eddie's voice comes from the dark of the kitchen, and the rate at which Steve's head lifts makes him bang it on the refrigerator.
Steve rubs his head. "Jesus Christ, dude. Don't sneak up on me like that." He hands the can to Eddie and heads out to the pool again, but Eddie stops him, a gentle hand on his arm.
"Is there much difference between the two?" At first, Steve is confused, maybe from the jump scare or the bump to his head, but then he catches on.
"Erm…I dunno. It wasn't really a side-by-side comparison, and we were a lot younger then, but no, I don't remember anything being too different. Other than the person, but then you can kiss two girls, and they can be different too. Not everyone likes the same things, but like I say, you'll read that easy enough, or they'll let you know if they like or don't like something." It's dark in here, but he can still read the confusion on Eddie's face. "It would be kinda like you teaching guitar students to play the same song. They might all have different guitars. Some might have favored acoustic over electric, and some might embellish on parts, but it's still recognisable as the same song. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, that does make sense." Eddie's voice is much more at ease, "And even though you kissed a guy, you still like girls, right?"
"I feel like I don't need to answer that, Eddie." Steve rolls his eyes and puts a hand on his hip, making Eddie laugh.
"Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry. I forgot about earlier." Eddie chuckles.
"That's ok. If it wasn't for you, my night could have ended a lot worse, that's for sure." Steve says thankfully. "Your friend being in town was pretty lucky."
"Hmmm, yeah, that was lucky, wasn't it." Eddie's rings tap the side of his beer can as he sways from side to side a little, and soon, some things are coming together for Steve.
"There was no friend at the party, was there?" Steve says in realization, and Eddie smiles and shakes his head in a no. "You knew what was gonna happen because you found out that guy was gonna be there."
"I suspected. I didn't know. What I said earlier was true about Gina liking you. I also remember how shitty I felt when it happened to me, but when I got there, you looked like you were having a great time, so I went to leave but heard him in one of the other rooms, and I just suspected the worst." Eddie explains, and doesn't Steve's whole heart swell at such a level of sweetness and care. He barely knew him, but he still looked out for him.
"Thanks, man," Steve smiles fondly at him. Maybe other things were impossible dreams, but he feels sure he at least has a new friend, "You know what? I'm gonna take you up on your offer. How much do you charge for a lesson?"
"Well, I thought maybe," Eddie scratches the back of his head, "Maybe we could…I dunno…er…trade expertise?" He suggests. It's a good job Steve had spent most of his life learning to hide his emotions when he needed to, specifically for moments like this. His heart is thundering in his chest, his brain is scrambled with a million different types of static, and his hand wants to crush the can in his grip with sheer excitement. Two days ago, this wasn't even on his radar. Two days ago, this delectable taboo wasn't even on his menu. It was on a hidden secret menu only he knew about, and yet here it was, being presented on a silver platter, and it's taking every ounce of resolve he has not to grab hold of it and greedily consume it quickly before the invitation is revoked. Oh, and he knows he's been bad tonight, a little trick here and a little lie there, and maybe he does feel like a bit of a creep about it, but it's not enough to say no. He was jonesing for something he'd never even tasted, but every neuron and hormone in his body told him he wanted it. No. He needed it. He'd let future Steve live with the regret and consequences.
"Sure. That sounds good," he says pleasantly. "When shall I book you in?" He says with a friendly laugh.
"Uh, now?" Eddie says.
"Now?" Steve says, a little surprised.
"Yeah, once I get the first one done. I'm good, right? Just beginner's stage fright. Then I can grab the guitars out of the van, and I can return the favor," Eddie says like he's working through the facts in his head, and suddenly Steve's excitement is a little dampened. Eddie wanted it over with, and Steve guesses he expected it, but hearing it out loud from Eddie kinda stung a little, but that was fine, right? Or would a taste of honey be worse than none at all?
"Yeah. Cool. Um, where do you think you'd feel most comfortable? It's your nerves that are the issue, so what do you do to relax?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs.
"Well, we've kind of already been doing that, but, uh, maybe not outside somewhere a bit more private. But, uh, this is my first time here, so I don't know where would be best." He looks around for a second. "What about where you set up last night?" Steve gives a one-shoulder shrug like his insides were not currently leapfrogging over one another to see who could get a chug of that sweet adrenaline first.
"Sure. I'll tidy up my crap, and why don't you bring your stuff in, so we can pick a song you can teach me afterwards?"
"Gotcha! See you in a sec, smoochy-poo," Eddie cackles, and Steve laughs too, out of excitement more than anything, but he's glad Eddie is making light of the situation. It's sneaky and underhanded, but it eases the guilt hearing him joke about it, even if this was going to mean something to Steve but nothing to Eddie.
Steve quickly tidies away his tapes and almost dies when he notices he'd left the bottle of lotion down here and quickly kicks it under a chair to worry about tomorrow. He turns off the light and decides it's too dark, but with the light on, it is too bright. He decides to light one candle, so a bit of light is cast around the room, but the main lights are all off. Then he tries to find the most casual standing pose he can, trying a few, realizes he's being stupid and then fluffs some cushions, just to put the energy somewhere.
The door opens soon enough, and Eddie barrels in, tape deck in one hand, box of tapes in the other, which also now contained his lunchbox, some fresh beers, and the partially emptied bottle of liquor. His silhouette stops dead in the doorway.
"Why's it so dark in here?" Eddie asks a little nervously.
"Well, I thought, if you couldn’t see me, you could maybe pretend I was someone you wanted to kiss, you know. Maybe that would help?" Steve says kindly. "I can put the lights on if you want. It doesn't bother me."
Eddie dumps the things in his arms, W.A.S.P still pouring out of the portable tape deck's speakers. "No, no. You're right. This is good. I trust you to be the expert here." As he turns and walks towards Steve, the light hits his face, and Steve can at least see and hear he's smiling a tiny bit.
"Ok, so, here is what I think, and if any of it feels like it's gonna make you or is making you feel uncomfortable, just say, ok? You're under no pressure here," Steve reassures him, and despite how much he wants this, he does mean that. "I thought we could do it standing, and I'll keep my hands by my sides, just in case you are worried about anything I told you earlier, and you can just go for it. No judgment, and I'll help you if you want me to, ok? Eddie's rules," Steve says kindly.
"Eddie's rules," he repeats and steps forward toward Steve, who is busy trying to be as still and least intimidating as he can, but he can see as Eddie approaches he's shaking, almost vibrating.
"Are you cold?" Steve asks, concerned.
"No, just nervous," Eddie says, his voice trembling.
Steve lifts his arms slowly from his sides to either side of Eddie's shoulders. "May I?" He says, and Eddie nods. Steve places his hands on Eddie's upper arms.
"Look at me, Eddie." And those big brown doe eyes sweep up to meet Steve's gaze. "You've nothing to worry about. You wanna not do it. That's fine. We can try another time or never speak of it again. If it's awful, you've lost nothing. I'm not someone you need to impress with this, and I'm not gonna tell a soul for obvious reasons. You're safe here." He rubs Eddie's arms gently. "And if you wanna crank the music up, move me somewhere else, change the lights, or anything at all, you can. Eddie's rules, remember?" And Steve knows this image of those sweet candle-lit eyes looking at him for reassurance might be etched into his brain forever. He removes his hands and puts them down by his sides. "Consider me like, I dunno, like a mannequin or something."
"Alright," Eddie says quietly. He's still shaking a little but not as much, and it is adorable, even if it is a million miles from the wild rock star Steve had pictured in his imagination. It is stunning, nonetheless. The candlelight was a mistake. He looks beautiful in it.
Eddie does turn the music up, and on his way back to Steve appears to be psyching himself up, pacing around and rolling his shoulders, like he'd seen plenty of times in locker rooms before a game, and he desperately wants to laugh, but doesn't want to shake Eddie's confidence. So he waits with the same patient, friendly smile on his face.
Eddie finally takes a few steps towards him. "Ok, I got this. It's just like mwah and done. Easy." Eddie speaks his inner monologue aloud whilst staring intensely at Steve's mouth before his eyes flick up to Steve's, who returns a kind nod. Eddie rubs his hands together. "Right, here goes nothing."
Eddie closes the gap, and just like that, Eddie Munson is kissing Steve Harrington. It is one of the most fantastic and agonizing things Steve has ever experienced. Eddie's mouth is so soft and pillowy. This close, Steve can absorb the full bouquet of his aromas. Alcohol, weed, tobacco, leather, pine, patchouli, musk, engine oil, a hint of gasoline, and it's so heady Steve wants to roll his eyes back into his skull and live here forever. He smells like high-speed rock ‘n’ roll, and Steve wants it bottled. And yet, at the same time, he's restricted. He can't reach out to pull Eddie closer. He can't deepen this kiss. He can't plunge his hands into his wild hair or explore under his shirt. He has to stay perfectly still for Eddie.
Steve unexpectedly adds 'Good Kisser' to his Eddie assessment.
This memory would always have to be Steve's secret album track. One hidden after minutes worth of silence right at the end of side B that wasn't even labeled on the album itself. Hidden away from prying eyes, only there for him when he felt like delving deeply enough, but he knows this is always going to be in his top ten. A mental polaroid, their mouths perfectly fitted together just like this.
Eddie tilts into it a little more, and Steve's every fiber is crying out to match his energy, but he promised he'd stay still, but he could be pliant. There is an extra wave of alcohol between them as Steve feels pressure from Eddie's tongue, teasing his mouth to part slightly. He obliges willingly but knows not to give too much. Eddie's doing the driving here. He tries to relax by forcing his focus on the music.
Magic runs through my fingers-
One touch you'll see
Steve feels Eddie's hand gently touch the side of his face as if instructed by the singer, but then he pulls it away quickly. Steve breaks the rules, puts Eddie's hand back on his face, and pats it. Trying to let him know it's ok, but Eddie pulls away entirely. However, he keeps the distance minimal. The smile on his face is enormous, and Steve mirrors it.
Steve wants to let out a sigh so full of longing it might launch a million love songs from bridge to chorus. A lonesome howl. Instead, he does what he's supposed to. He keeps the beat and holds that friendly smile like that didn't just happen. Like that kiss wouldn't be embossed onto his lips whenever he hears a singer croon about unrequited love. His hand forever pressed against the window pane of a place he's not on the list for.
"See, easy. You did it, man. First kiss. Check. Done." Steve draws a tick in the air with his hand, but Eddie isn't looking. He might not even be listening. Instead, his eyes are still trained on Steve's mouth.
"Say, could I get a redo on that? I noticed something, and I wanna try something else," Eddie says excitedly, and Steve can hardly believe his luck. Praise whatever powerful being is allowing this to happen right now.
"Sure thing. It's your time. Anything I can help with?" Steve asks, trying not to sound too eager to please.
"Can you, um, how can I put it….can you kiss me back this time, so I know what that feels like?" Eddie asks, the grin on his face unmoving. A Roy Orbison 'Have Mercy' rings through his brain. For Steve, it might as well be Christmas right now, it's not everything he wants, but it's something, and to be honest, the universe has let him get away with a lot this evening.
L.O…V.E.
Keeping his cool and calm facade up, he replies, "Yeah, sure, I can do that. It's your rules, man. Your hands are fine, too, by the way. Sorry if I scared you. I was trying to let you know it was ok." He smiles more gently, and Eddie nods before turning around quickly to turn the music up even louder.
Steve notices that Eddie isn't shaking anymore, and that sweet innocent look in his eyes appears to have disappeared entirely. It feels ridiculous to even think, but if he was going to label how Eddie looks right now, he'd use the word ravenous. The backdrop of the guitar screaming out of the speakers only makes Steve's pulse race faster. Even Eddie's posture is straighter. He’s standing a little taller. His eyes don't move from Steve's mouth until he's swaggered back to where he was, their noses an inch or so apart; his eyes flick up to Steve's, and he actually winks at him, but before Steve can process what all these changes mean or where they've come from, their mouths connect again, and he is literally manhandled.
Eddie's hands yank Steve's arms around him, leaning his back against them like he wants Steve to touch him. Meanwhile, Eddie's hands are taking a whistlestop tour of Steve. Pushing and feeling over his torso and arms as they make their way up to his neck and into his hair, Eddie eases Steve's mouth open with his own, tugging gently on his bottom lip.
The message center in Steve's brain is in two distinct factions right now: Team 'What the hell is happening?' and Team 'Hell yeah, let's fucking go!". Only then does he remember he should be doing something other than letting Eddie paw over him and try to engulf him entirely.
Steve kisses Eddie back, licks into his mouth with all the hunger he'd been restraining, and lets his hand smooth up Eddie's t-shirt. The feeling of his body through the fabric would be unforgettable. Steve's hands are the steady grounding bass groove to Eddie's hurried electrifying lead. He is in the throes of it now, so it's really not his fault that when he feels Eddie tug on his hair slightly, he instinctively roughly pulls Eddie closer, pressing them together. The force of which pushes a grunt from Eddie, making a bolt of lightning shoot straight into the pit of his stomach.
This is the Eddie he'd been fantasizing about, powerful, rough, brain-frazzling, just like the guitar riffs he'd been listening to that night. Who knew it was lying in wait behind one little kiss? Maybe Steve wasn't such an awful judge of character after all. He isn’t sure what is going to happen after this. Perhaps they'll be so embarrassed they'll never talk to one another again, but the lines have been crossed now. So as far as Steve is concerned, he is going to sprint into this tryst until Eddie close-lines him to the floor by simply telling him 'No' or 'Stop'.
The loud music in his ears, and the sweet melody Eddie is playing with his body, makes Steve flip the bird at the angel complaining on his shoulder as he moves one of his hands to grip Eddie's lithe waist, thumbing into the flesh with the safety barrier of the material between. The other moves all the way north to get lost in that wild mane between his fingers as he grips into it lightly, doesn't pull, just wants to feel around in there, and it is glorious. He feels Eddie's tongue retract from the wrestling match it had been having with his own, his lips smile against him before he tugs hard on Steve's hair, tipping his head backwards with force, making him emit a noise he hadn't ever heard himself produce before, inspired by a place somewhere between pleasure and pain.
Both panting for air, Steve, though in an awkward position, decides to make light of the situation. He doesn't want Eddie to stop and figures humor will let him know everything is still good. "Not bad for a second kiss, Munson."
"Careful, Harrington. You wouldn't want anyone to think you're having a good time here, innocently helping out your new buddy, right?" Eddie's sultry smile descends into a smirk as he licks a fat stripe from the base of Steve's throat all the way up to his chin, along his jawline until he's dragging his teeth over his ear, and now Steve's eyes do roll back into his skull, his eyelids flutter shut, as he feels his blood thunder south. Steve decides that the town is wrong, Eddie doesn't worship the devil. The level of temptation and amount of sinful thoughts surging through Steve right now might mean that he is in the hands of Apollyon himself. Relief sweeps over him as Eddie finally pushes him into a wall, glad for something to help keep him standing.
He worries about the potentially embarrassing firmness rapidly developing below his belt, and a good Steve, a wise Steve, would tell Eddie to ease up, but those Steves are out to lunch. The only Steve remaining is munching on popcorn, yelling more, more, more, and switching every sign to green. "Jesus Christ, Eddie," is all he manages breathlessly.
Eddie's hand is still firmly holding Steve's head back as his other hand caresses his face and starts to move achingly slowly down his neck and chest as Eddie rasps in his ear, "You know, Harrington, you really should learn to ask more open questions." He must see the look of confusion on Steve's face because he laughs deeply, and it vibrates through Steve's body, not helping his current predicament in any way.
Another tug on his hair, and the hand on his chest moves lower still. Eddie's fingers trace gently along the outlines of his muscles through his sweatshirt. It's only then Steve realizes his own hands have turned limp against Eddie. He forces his eyes to look to the side to finally meet Eddie's in the darkness, waiting for answers that aren't emerging. Steve dips the fingers of the hand on Eddie's waist, along the waistband of his jeans, and he runs them around it gently until he finds a belt loop to hook a finger into and pulls Eddie against him again. A gasp and groan swim into Steve's ear. At the same time, he feels Eddie's stiffness against his hip. Steve bites down so hard on his own lip he's sure it might draw blood. "What do you mean?" He manages when the ability to think and speak finally returns.
Eddie deeply chuckles again before slowly, rhythmically thrusting his hips against Steve, causing a harmony of noises from them both. "Mmm, we sound good together, don't we?" Eddie purrs as his eyes trail over his face. The rough denim shifts the fabric of his trousers over his leg. The outside has the firm pressure from Eddie, but it's when the material gently brushes up and down the inside of his thigh that is really causing a cerebral malfunction. Steve should stop him. This is too far, too telling, he's exposed what he is, letting him get away with it, but if he does, this might never happen again, and he wants this so badly. Everything about this guy is musical. His tempo and basal noises are like sinful arias that Steve wants on repeat, his fingertips moving over him, conducting Steve's body to do exactly whatever he wants. Eddie ceases his pelvic onslaught. "I have a confession," he mutters gently as his fingers move to the lines where Steve's abdomen meets his hips, making Steve's usually very comfortable slacks feel like his worst enemy. "You see, I kinda didn't lie, but I didn't tell you the whole truth either."
On instinct, Steve's fingers have been working away at freeing Eddie from his clothes. This is usually where a girl might bat his hand away, or if he was lucky, they'd help him out by removing it themselves. Eddie doesn't do that. He keeps his eyes on Steve and does nothing to stop or aid him. He simply allows it. With the freedom he's clearly been bestowed, Steve isn't sure why he doesn't immediately relieve Eddie of his clothes. Instead, it makes him untuck Eddie's band tee much more slowly than he actually wants to, like carefully unwrapping a gift. But as Eddie stops talking, he stops untucking. A smile ticks at the corner of Steve's mouth like he's playing a little game. Eddie pushes him lower slightly, so he can look down into his eyes as he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. It's a spinning coin of who has the power here, and Steve didn't realize until right now how soul-stirring that could be.
"We were talking about girls, right?" Eddie continues, a subtle tremble appearing in his voice, and Steve teases some of the fabric free as he speaks, his finger accidentally ghosting over the skin underneath. Eddie's words cease. Steve stills his fingers and watches him crumble slightly. Eddie whines and bites his lip, nodding, before taking a deep breath. "And everything I said about girls was one hundred percent true. I'd never outright lie to you. It was just a simple twisting to just see if…." Steve continues around his waistband until he realizes Eddie is repeating himself, and he starts tucking the t-shirt back in and moves his hand away. "No-no-no," Eddie says much more quickly, dropping out of his deep sultry tone to something Steve is more used to hearing, and he pouts.
"That's cheating," Steve smiles up at him.
"Sorry, sorry," Eddie apologizes and takes Steve's hand, placing it back where it was. "Please."
"Then confess," he says sternly, making Eddie wet his lips with his tongue.
"I hadn't kissed a girl. I tried. I like girls. I dated a bunch." Eddie's storytelling trait leaves the building, as all he is left with are short sentences, his eyes looking for Steve's hand teasing the material until the shirt is entirely free. He swallows thickly before he speaks again, "And I did give up after I chickened out a few times. That was all true." Steve's hand slithers under the soft cotton fabric of Eddie's T-shirt, and as his fingertips touch Eddie's stomach, his head flies back, and Steve can see his Adam's apple bobbing away, as he unleashes a string of whispered curse words into the air; his chest heaves up and down, and his grip almost pulsing in Steve's hair. He stays perfectly still, waiting for Eddie to return from wherever his brain and Steve's touch just sent him. Lets his hand linger, hoping it weaves a white-hot print into his skin forever. Hopes the place is accidentally brushed over one day, and this moment swamps his brain like the sweetest refrain.
'Cos bad boys they do
After a few seconds, his head lowers again, looking intensely into Steve's eyes, and he can feel the smooth abdomen and rise and fall against his palm. Other than the subtle movements of their bodies, they are caught in a stalemate. Without breaking their shared lustful stare save for an occasional blink, Steve flexes his trembling fingers lightly so the tips of them brush featherlight against Eddie’s softer-than-expected skin, and Eddie’s eyelids flicker for a moment. “So if that was all true, what was the lie?” Steve asks softly as his fingers graze over small patches of his torso, making minute circles that he is unsure about dealing out. Steve had felt a sizable number of bodies before, but this one is hot as a volcano and potentially just as volatile with one incorrect shifting of the fault-riddled ground they’d made together tonight. He has no idea what is too far here. Steve feels he is walking a high wire of intimacy. One wrong move and it could all be over. It all comes flooding into his mind at once how very little he knows about Eddie. How potentially dangerous this could be. What if Steve crosses a line, and it sets him off? Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, unsure of how to proceed.
With his head still tilted back in Eddie's hand, he looks down his nose and gingerly reaches out for Eddie's hand, wraps his fingers cautiously around his wrist, and to his relief, he lets him take it. He places it on his wrist, partially obscured by the T-shirt it hides under. Steve meets his eyes again, and Eddie’s hand chases after Steve’s under his shirt. He looks down at Eddie’s chest, can make out the bumps of his knuckles through the cotton, and spreads his fingers slightly so they disappear, and Eddie’s digits fall into the spaces between his own. A slight glint of a smile twitches at the corner of Eddie’s mouth as he tightens his grip and moves Steve’s hand over his body with a gulp, watching Steve like a hawk, and for a moment, he thinks maybe Eddie is just as scared of him. He moves their hands slowly to his chest, and his eyes close as he licks his lips. His chest is rising and falling much more profoundly and hurriedly now. He smooths their loosely joined hands slowly down him to his side, over the ripple of his ribs under Steve's fingertips. Eddie observes Steve the whole time, and the tension is eating away at him, so he pushes. “You didn’t answer. What was the lie?” Steve asks again.
Eddie's hand leaves him, and his skin misses the red-hot heat of his palm already. It shoots out to the side of Steve's head against the wall, and Eddie slowly bends his elbow to lean his face back into Steve’s space. Steve tries his absolute best to stay calm, but his heart thunders in his chest, and his eyes flicker back down to Eddie’s mouth. He feels a deep ache—one more kiss. One more, and then he’ll stop.
Eddie’s smile grows to a wicked thing above him as he studies Steve’s face. "The lie? No, Steve. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. I’ve never kissed a girl, and I do like them. But I also like guys.” Steve’s eyes must betray him entirely with surprise because Eddie’s grin widens, ”And I kissed a whole bunch of them a whole lotta times," he manages before adding to that total by kissing Steve ferociously, clashing them together almost painfully and pulling away roughly, "and you can't really blame me when the hottest guy in the universe offered me a kiss for nothing. Out of the goodness of his precious, kind heart." Eddie’s eyes drop lower, and soon he’s gone from where Steve can see. The next thing he feels is his soft wet lips mouthing over Steve's throat. The quick switch to gentleness has him finally releasing his hair and cupping the back of his neck. "You forgive me, right, sweetheart?" He speaks it into his skin, and he’s right. He does, but he can’t currently articulate the words to do so. Steve is pleasantly surprised that Eddie duped him. That means that Eddie wanted him, too, right? Maybe not in the same way, but in some way. A smile breaks on Steve's face as he lets the wave of pleasure crash over him as frequently and as heavily as they like.
Make the grade.
He adds ‘Phenomenal Actor’ to his Eddie assessment list.
Steve laughs, making Eddie stop, but Steve doesn't have time to reassure him. The danger is gone, but it is no less exhilarating. He finally uses his strength to push off the wall and trade places. Eddie looks confused, maybe even a little scared, until he scans over Steve’s face centimeters from his own, smiling broadly, laughing in between pants for breath. As Steve pushes off him and removes his blazer and sweatshirt, Eddie no longer seems so worried.
"What did I do to deserve all this?" His eyes rake over every newly exposed inch of Steve, which feels like the most glorious thing in the world. Eddie wants him. It is looping over in his brain like a scratched record.
They're gonna drive me crazy yet.
"Well, let's see, you told the truth." Steve pushes his hardness into Eddie's thigh, and the relief from that tiny bit of contact is almost enough to make Steve collapse onto Eddie, but now he knows they had both been misleading one another a little, and he wants to play up to it.
"I did, I really did. I was so good for that, wasn't I?" Eddie agrees enthusiastically, his eyebrows pushing together as he looks from Steve's face to the friction between them as Eddie slides against him again, and Steve almost short circuits.
Prior to right now, Steve's general part in this kind of dynamic was mostly being grateful. Grateful for a girl, to let him touch her in any way. Even with Tommy, it was almost like a mutual science experiment, but Steve has found two new things he was into in the few short minutes of whatever this was developing between him and Eddie, so he pokes at one.
"But you also made me aware that someone as good at acting as you cannot be trusted." Steve rolls his hips away from Eddie, leaving him shaking his head quickly in a sort of panic, and watching Eddie crave him like this was sending undulating shockwaves throughout himself. Sure, he's been the subject of coy glances, big eyes full of affection, maybe something close to love, but to be desired so desperately is not something he is accustomed to. It prickles at his nerve endings until his whole body feels so sensitive, like the merest hint of a breeze against it could send him crashing back into Eddie for more.
"It wasn't all acting, I swear. I was nervous about kissing you, but for different reasons than I said," Eddie babbles. His fingers dig into Steve's forearms as he grasps for them. Make that three. Usually, when he was gripped this way, it was by the soft pads at the ends of dainty fingers, maybe even the light scratches of perfectly manicured fingernails. Eddie's fingers aren’t like that. The tips are covered mostly in calluses from playing the guitar, and the roughness of his palms is probably from working with his hands. Steve suspects it's perhaps his van. Immediately jealous that it might be from all the rough surfaces Eddie has pushed other guys up against. He shuts his eyes momentarily as the textures graze across his arms, and his brain takes him to a sweltering hot day, Eddie leaning into the engine of his van, sweat dripping from him, covered in streaks of engine oil or grease, and it is doing Steve no favors in his attempt to calm down. He listens to the music around them for a reprieve, but it doesn't come. The singer only urges him on. He wonders if Eddie selected this album intentionally. If it was part of his plan all along, to bewitch Steve with a wicked potion of himself and the suggestive lyrics in the air.
That smokin' powder keg you're riding on is hell-bound
Steve rushes him, throwing a forearm over his head and leaning his whole weight against it on the wall so he looms over Eddie, breathing hard but keeping a distance between their bodies, hoping to create a chasm between them that they’d fill with the desire behind their eyes. He carefully leans in and speaks his words into Eddie's slightly parted mouth. "Would you have forgiven me if our roles had been reversed? If I had tricked you tonight?" His eyes rise sleepily from Eddie's lips to his hooded eyes, and a shuddering breath escapes the man under him, and Steve's stomach flips.
"Yeah. Yes. A million times, yes. I'd forgive you." Eddie looks like he's in pain as his words drip with yearning. Steve smiles down at him, and he can see the wave of realization move gradually across Eddie's face, "You tricked me?" He says slowly in an unbelieving whisper. His big eyes look up at Steve so innocently for a moment that it makes him positively growl into Eddie's neck because this is fucking sensational. He knows at any point he could throw up his hands, and Eddie would take the reins, or he could continue to overpower him, dominate him like this. He honestly can’t read what Eddie prefers, but he also had no idea what he liked better, either. It all feels good, maybe a little too good.
At the altar of rock 'n' roll you'll kneel.
"It wasn't a trick, exactly. It was more a bending of the truth and then a little pushing my luck," Steve says quietly as he mouths down his neck, his tongue tasting the sharpness of cheap cologne that Steve wouldn't have replaced by anything more expensive. It is perfection. He latches on when he reaches the base of his throat, hoping to leave Eddie with a memory of this evening, a warning to anyone else that sees it, at least for a few days, making Eddie hiss a breath between his teeth. Increasing the pressure as the guitar desperately wails in the sweet syrupy air around them. At first, he thinks he might have been too rough and hurt him until Eddie's hands guide his head back for more. "You like that?" Steve asks for the first time.
"I'd like it better if the rest of you wasn't so far away," Eddie half-complains.
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure you deserve it after being so deceptive." Steve laughs, taking his throat between his teeth again and sucking down. He dares to glance up at Eddie's expression and regrets it immediately because he looks like absolute sin, his head thrown back against the wall, sweat sticking his hair to his face, his kiss-swollen mouth hanging open like it's desperately waiting for something obscene to fill it. Though he can't see them in the dim light, he bets those coral pink triangles of blush are adorning his face right now.
Hellion! The devil's Hellion child
"You're not really selling the whole telling you the truth thing, you know?" Eddie catches him staring up at him and grins until he's cut off by Steve bursting another bunch of his blood vessels to decorate his pretty neck. Then he's catching his breath, gasping, and sighing into the air above them as his eyes slide closed.
"Yeah, but imagine how much more you could have right now if you'd been good," Steve says as he releases and towers over him again, and Eddie lets him, despite them being roughly the same height. A mischievous grin spreads across Eddie’s face as his hips rut forward and grind against him again, almost taunting him. It feels so sinfully good. Steve almost whimpers but presses his lips together just in time. He looks at Eddie, who is already watching him, with a slightly arched eyebrow. As their eyes lock, he does it once more. His brow knits, and his mouth drops open a little. Steve recognises it as almost too much. A moan rolls out of him in the silence between songs, and Steve can't resist that open invitation to capture it. But the next song seeps into his ears, slower, gentler, and Steve lets the music puppet him. He reaches out to cup Eddie's jaw, thumbing at his cheek where he can feel those little patches of heat hiding in the darkness. The music slows his touch and breathing. He lets his eyes search Eddie's for the keys to unlock what he's holding back. Eddie releases a sigh.
Click.
Look, look in the candlelight.
Completely lost in the moment, he finally lets his mind take him and Eddie somewhere else entirely. Suspended in a dark nothingness, only one another's highlights revealed by the faintest light until flames burst from the floor to lick at their bodies. He claims Eddie's mouth with his own and tastes him again, consuming his sounds of pleasure like it was the ambrosia of the gods. He mentally adds to his Eddie assessment.
Exceedingly good at reading me.
As Steve draws back again, just to escape how good Eddie feels, before this ends too soon for his liking, Eddie says, "Come on, Steve. If I'd been really good and told no lies, neither of us would have much of anything right now." His hands move over Steve's body as smoothly as his voice fills his ears until they find their way around his waist, splay out against his back and pull him in closer again. "So maybe, don't think about it too much. Maybe call it even and don't think about anything at all." Eddie's hands move lower, grazing the small of his back, gliding into and over the dimples there, until his fingertips are playing with the back of his waistband, and he slightly dips them inside of it. He raises his eyes to Steve's and holds his gaze through his eyelashes, and Steve realizes he's silently asking for permission.
And cry out the name of which I yearn.
Eddie doesn't know, but this is the furthest he's ever gone with a guy. He and Tommy had a few make-out sessions. There had been some moments where other parts of their bodies had brushed against one another, but primarily accidental, not purposeful like this. Not urgent wanting like this. It was the hands above the belt rule that kept it safe, that kept it in a forgivable friendly experiment zone. Even if they'd ended up visibly aroused by anything, they'd laugh it off, slap one another on the back, and find a bathroom each, as far apart as possible. This is not like that. He desperately wants to cross that line, specifically with Eddie, but the icy fear is steadily creeping its way past Eddie's flaming hot hands and up his spine. If he stepped over that line, there were no excuses then. It's only when Eddie speaks again he realizes he's frozen. "Steve? Hey, you ok?" Eddie's fingertips immediately retreat to the outside of the waistband of Steve's slacks.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, I'm good," Steve says confidently, even laughing for good measure, but inside, he is terrified. He surges forward to kiss Eddie again, who accepts, but Steve notices it's much more like their first one. Soft, slow, gentle. He feels the firm pressure of Eddie's arms surrounding him, and it's a sorely needed comfort to slow down the insanity that is going on within him right now. Eddie's eyes scan his face. "Is that as far as you got?" He asks, and there is that kindness in his voice again. He's changed back to the guy that cared enough to be there tonight for Steve, with absolutely no idea there was anything in it for him at all. Steve swallows nervously and nods, looking down to the floor, a little embarrassed that his fear had suddenly surpassed his enthusiasm. He doesn't understand why Eddie isn't upset right now, why he isn't pushing him away, calling him a cocktease, or something worse. Sure Steve had never in his life treated anyone like that, no matter where they paused or stopped proceedings, but from what the girls revealed to him as he'd hold them in his arms, reassuring them it didn't matter, it wasn't a big deal, most guys got pissed about it. He was an exception.
"Steve. It's ok." His arms tighten around him, and one hand starts rubbing a soothing circle on his back as he stands to his full height again. 'Look at me. Please"
Steve quickly glances at him and looks away just as rapidly. "Can you try to look at me for a bit longer, please? I know it's difficult on account of how hideous you find me." The smile in his tone is evident, and Steve dares to look again. "There you are," Eddie says with a huge smile, and Steve offers him a weak one back. "Remember earlier, we were talking about Eddie's rules?" He brings a hand to touch the side of Steve's face, carefully moving a few strands of hair away from his eyes. Steve can't bring himself to say anything. He looks down again and feels stupid. Eddie catches his chin on the crook of his index finger and tilts his head back up. "Well, number one on the list of Eddie's Rules is all parties have to be into what's happening at all times. Understand? Because if you're not into it, I'm not into it, ok? That's how it works for me. I'm not being a martyr here," he smiles and looks down where they are still pressed together. "When I know someone's having a good time with me because of me, that's my thing. That's what gets me off." Eddie pretends to be deep in thought as he looks back up. "Well, that and a hundred other things probably, but that's definitely my favorite and most important." He lets out a soft laugh that makes the tension boiling in Steve rest to a simmer.
Steve casts his eyes down to the collar of Eddie's t-shirt, rolls it between his fingers and sighs, "Sorry. I know it must seem like a weird line to have, considering everything else we’ve been doing. You must be disappointed," Steve says regretfully, and Eddie laughs so loudly, making Steve’s eyes snap to him in alarm.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea where I've been for the past I don't fucking know minutes? I'm day-slash-night walking in fantasy, Steve. You have no idea how many times I thought about this. How many different ways. I never. Hand on heart. Never thought it would happen. And believe me when I say I thought I had a fantastic imagination, being a storyteller, a musician, and a dreamer, but nothing I came up with was anywhere close to how amazing this is. Seriously." His hand cups Steve's jaw, and his thumb runs across his cheekbone. "So no, sweetheart, I'm not disappointed. I am a man, light years away from the town of disappointment, ok?"
Steve smiles but rolls his eyes with his patented half-smile. Eddie looks and sounds genuine, but he can't help but feel maybe he'd wanted or expected more.
"I know what you're thinking, Steve. I think I rammed my tongue so far down your throat I tasted your innermost thoughts, so I'll be one hundred percent honest with you. I would be lying if I said I didn't want more. But I always want more. It's who I am. I'm greedy for attention, affection and, right now, you. I am. I'll hold my hands up to that. But I am not disappointed. So you've got nothing to apologize for except being so damn delectable. And maybe don't even be sorry for that because-" Steve cuts him off with a kiss that sets off a box of exhibition-sized fireworks inside of Steve, an orchestral crescendo that runs in ripples over his skin. Fuck, he likes this guy so much more than he thought he did or could.
"You know, I can talk more if that's how you'll keep me quiet the rest of the night?" Eddie smiles as he blinks back into the present.
"You know I'm in one too?" Steve says quietly, brushing the sweat-dampened hair from Eddie's face.
"Huh? In one? One what?" Eddie looks completely bamboozled.
Steve chuckles, making Eddie's face light up. "I mean, I'm in a fantasy too."
"Fuck off!" Eddie exclaims so loudly in shock it makes Steve lean back. "You are not!" Steve nods, and Eddie's mouth is wide open in excited surprise as he gestures to himself. "Me? Really?"
"Yeah," Steve says softly, draping his arms around Eddie's neck.
"You have no idea the inner turmoil I'm in right now. Like, I know, I can't tell anyone about this, and I won't, but if I could, shit, the fucking urge to rub this in all their stupid faces is strong. Steve Harrington was fantasizing about lil' ol' me." He flutters his eyelashes. "Feed my ego, Steve. Tell me everything, please."
"Ah, no. That's private," Steve says, frowning a little.
"Ok, ok. At least tell me for how long?" Eddie asks, his arms around Steve, shaking him left to right with excitement, and Steve sighs.
"Since yesterday." And almost immediately, Eddie pouts his downturned lips as his shoulders sink.
"Damn, you don't mess around, do ya?" Eddie replies with a lot less excitement.
"Ok, so you definitely seem disappointed now," Steve remarks.
"Yeah, that's because I am." Eddie pouts again, and Steve is amusedly taken aback by his honesty. At least this reaction confirmed he was telling the truth moments ago.
"Why? Like, why be disappointed about this and not me ruining everything," Steve asks curiously.
"Ok, stop. You ruined nothing. This is different. I just learned you'd been thinking about me, and I guess I imagined it would have been for longer than a day, Steve. What? No pining? No finding out when I'm on shift so you can watch my fine ass walk by? No, Eddie daydreams out of the window. Just one day? How? How is that possible? What did I do yesterday that I didn't do any other of the days we've known one another? I look the same. I act the same. Is it? Is it because you think I'm turning over a new leaf with a legitimate job? Because you should know I'm not." Eddie lets the words leave him like rapid fire as he puzzles through the situation, "Is it name tags? ‘Cus I can get my hands on as many name tags as you want. Oh, wait, is it because I asked for your help? Like a good Samaritan kink or something because, again, my teachers will tell ya I need all the help I can get."
"It's because yesterday I knew, well, I hoped you were like me," Steve answers.
"Oh, the liking guys thing?" Eddie guesses, and Steve shakes his head in a no, and Eddie wrinkles up his nose adorably.
"Music. You talk out loud about music, the way I feel inside about music. In the record store, the way you described the Hendrix album felt different from when you were assessing the others, and earlier tonight, the way you talked about this one," Steve gestures to the air to indicate the music still playing, "and then you knew what I was talking about when I talked about those sensations. And I thought maybe you'd get me. And then I remembered you were in a band, and I thought how amazing that must feel, to play these things and feel like I feel when I only listen to them. Then I couldn't stop thinking about how you might look, getting totally lost in it." Steve takes a breath, realizing how amped up he is talking about this, staring intensely into Eddie's eyes. He's suddenly aware he's talking louder, excitedly, his hands around the back of Eddie's neck, twisting his fingers into Eddie's hair. "Sorry." He says with an awkward laugh and dials it down a few notches back to normal Steve levels.
Eddie says nothing, only gazes back at him, a soft, thoughtful look on his face, blinking a few times before he says, "Don't stop on my account." And right there in a dimly lit room, W.A.S.P still playing loudly in the background, half-dressed, his hair wildly disheveled, Steve Harrington falls for Eddie Munson.
Shit. This is bad. Fooling around, secret crushes and fantasies were one thing, but this? This is something else entirely. Dangerous even. But Steve knows. He emphatically knows the difference between something purely physical, something lustfully wanton, and this. This spins his head like a record, his stomach turns cartwheels, and his heart isn't pounding quickly like the hooves of galloping wild horses anymore. It's thudding. A resounding, steady thud. A bluesy John Lee Hooker boom, boom, boom, boom.
"Really?" Steve asks carefully.
"Do you know the level of nerd you have in your arms right now? I mean, I'm a pretty, foxy one at least, but yeah, really, Music was the first thing I remember being completely obsessed with." Eddie smiles. "I had no idea until we were by your pool that music wasn't anything but background noise to you or something to dance with girls to. All I knew about you was you liked sports, were rich, a little bit of a bitch, and so goddamn pretty. I would happily talk about and listen to you talk about music for hours."
Steve wants to ask, but he just stares. He doesn't want to scare Eddie away, but he wants to know if this is just tonight, some fun between friends, or if…if there could be a tomorrow, or next week, or month, or year, or fucking forever.
"Wanna share with the class?" Eddie says, with a sweet encouraging smile.
"Well, two things, one for you and one for me," Steve says. "Which first?"
"Oh, definitely you first, sweetheart," Eddie drawls, and Steve desperately tries to focus on his words and not any hidden meanings that his body is trying to convince him of right now.
"So, I was wondering, and it's absolutely fine if not, but do you maybe wanna hang out again tomorrow or another night this week?" Steve asks, using his confident mask.
"Like we have tonight?" Eddie asks slowly.
"Yeah, or just-" Steve tries to answer.
"Stop right there." Eddie presses a finger to Steve's still-speaking lips. " Yes! Absolutely yes, Steve. Yes. It's a yes. Big fat, yes. Thank you very much," Eddie answers firmly without hesitation, before a colossal grin breaks across his face, and then he suddenly looks puzzled. "Wait, that was for you? What in the world do you have for me?" But Steve has stalled now. He's still processing how eagerly Eddie agreed, and he's very aware of his own breathing and the pulse in his ears until he's snapped out of it by a ringed hand waving in his face.
"Earth to Steve. Helloooo?" Eddie tries, and Steve tries to remember what he was talking about before he started plotting out their future together.
"So, for you, yes, erm, ok, so kinda embarrassing, but I thought you might like to know that whilst I only fantasized about you for one day, it was…." Steve licks his lips and blinks like he can't believe he's going to say this out loud, but he wants Eddie not to be disappointed. He looks into Eddie's expectant eyes in the darkness. "It was, um…intense and um…vigorous." Steve sees his eyes go a new level of wide before he looks impressed with himself.
"Oh-ho-ho, really? Now that does make me feel a little better." Even in the low light, his huge toothy grin is beaming at Steve. "You know I can run out to the van any time you like, grab that guitar and happily give you your own private concert."
"You would?" Steve asks dreamily as he thinks about that image momentarily and slides closer to Eddie until their silhouettes merge into one against the wall.
"Oh yeah, with fucking bells on." Eddie grins, his eyes dropping to Steve's mouth again, then looking him up and down. "Is this you indicating you might wanna rewind and within the lines have a little more fun now?"
"Yeah," Steve breathes against his lips. "That ok?"
"That ok?" Eddie playfully mimics and laughs. "Yes, of course, gorgeous. Absolutely ok! Maybe, as I'm staying over anyway, we can do the same tomorrow too?" Eddie says, walking Steve backwards to the couch, his eyes lazily looking over Steve's face as he guides him to sit and lowers him down, cradling the back of his head gently to lie back. "Ok, like this?" He asks as he shuffles into his lap. Steve nods happily and wraps his arms around Eddie's waist.
"Who knows, maybe tomorrow won't be the same? Maybe a sweet, handsome, nerdy guy can help me get a little further tomorrow? Because with him, I'd really like to eventually. You know, do more," Steve says positively; though he can feel the heat rise up his face, he is smiling up at Eddie as he leans in close and presses a kiss to his lips before sitting back and taking off his t-shirt. Eddie pauses like he's allowing him the time to look over him. Steve makes a mental note of all the places he's going to explore later, all the ink buried in Eddie's skin he's going to get intimately acquainted with every minuscule detail of, maybe even leave his signature next to them, so Steve can be buried under Eddie's skin there right along with them.
"From what I know of that guy, he will be more than eager to assist, but he's also not in any kind of rush. He'll be beside himself that he got so fucking lucky to get his lips on the second hottest music nerd in town." And before Steve can laugh and reach up to playfully push him off, Eddie leans down against his hand to kiss him longingly, his untamed hair draping around them both like the softest black-out curtains against the outside world, their sounds intertwine harmoniously once more as they breathe one another in and out.
Symbiotic. Just like Eddie said.
Whilst their song sends Steve's imagination into the serenity of outer space, his fingertips of the hand wedged between them moves over Eddie's skin, across to the center of his chest, until they find what Steve's been after for so long.
A beat that wholeheartedly moves him.
#steddiebang23#steddie big bang#steddie big band 2023#steddie fic#steddie fan fiction#steddie fanfic#steddie fanfiction#steddie fan art#steddie fanart#steddie fluff#steddiebang23 masterposts
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peppermint tea
sana x jihyo
warnings: fluff, jealous sana, slight angst?
It didn't take a genius to see that Sana was upset about something. That something though... Jihyo had no clue. They were out having a fun time at a Christmas party with some of the other JYP artists when Sana suddenly started answering Jihyo's questions with one-word responses and side-eyeing the hell out of her.
Jihyo thought refilling Sana's drink and grabbing her food would have made things better because Sana loved it when Jihyo did little things like that. Instead, Sana went from one-word answers and side-eying her to ignoring her and not even looking at her.
By the time the party ended, Sana barely agreed to go home with Jihyo even though they lived together. Jihyo tried to say something to Sana once they got in the car, but the second Sana buckled her seatbelt, she turned her knees towards the door and rested her head against the window.
Jihyo just gave a small nod, started the car, and stayed silent the entire ride. She usually plugged her phone in to play music, but she was afraid that Sana would either turn the radio off or chastise her for the song she picked.
Fifteen incredibly quiet and very uncomfortable minutes later and Sana practically tumbled out of Jihyo's car once she parked it in their building's lot. Jihyo followed a few steps behind her girlfriend, glad that Sana was at least willing to take the same elevator with her up to their unit. Even if Sana was standing so close to the elevator doors that her breath was fogging up the metal.
The second the elevator dinged signaling they had made it to their floor and the doors opened, Sana bolted out of the elevator and briskly walked down the hall. She punched the numbers into the keypad so hard that Jihyo was afraid they were going to break.
Even after they were both in the apartment and had taken their shoes off, Sana still wouldn't look at Jihyo. She turned the electric kettle on and went to their bedroom to change into her pajamas without a single word.
Jihyo let out a long sigh and set her car keys down in the bowl by the front door. She shuffled over to the sink and pulled two mugs out. She grabbed ginger tea for herself and peppermint for Sana, placing the tea bags in their respective mugs before sitting on the couch in the living room. She really wanted to change into her pajamas as well, but she didn't really want to anger Sana even more.
Once Sana emerged from the bedroom and the kettle started to whistle, Jihyo got up and swapped places with her. While Jihyo changed into her pajamas, Sana poured water into the two mugs. She brought both mugs over and set Jihyo's down on the glass coffee table in front of the TV.
Jihyo was pleasantly surprised to see that Sana didn't just pick up her own mug of tea and leave hers on the kitchen counter, but the pleasantness wore off as soon as she took a seat on the opposite side of the couch.
Blowing into her tea in a poor attempt to cool it down, Jihyo tried to focus on how hot the mug was rather than how cold Sana was making her feel. She hated not knowing what her girlfriend was mad about, but she genuinely had no clue.
The entire day was perfectly fine that Jihyo could recall. They woke up on time and had breakfast together. They took a shower and went to the grocery store. Jihyo snuck one of Sana's favorite snacks into the cart as they were checking out. They even had time to relax and take a nap before the party, and Sana wasn't pissed off until the middle of the party.
Jihyo knew Sana better than the back of her hand. It wasn't like Sana to be this upset and not say something about it. It also wasn't like Sana to give Jihyo the cold shoulder in front of a huge group of people. Sure, she'd give her a stern look to let Jihyo know they would be talking once they got home, but she had never blatantly ignored her at an event.
Halfway through her tea and the millionth time replaying the day's events over in her head, Jihyo sat her mug down on the coffee table. She couldn't stand the tension anymore and she really wanted to at least hug Sana. Turning to her girlfriend, Jihyo crossed her legs and tucked them in, resting her chin in her hand.
"Did I do something wrong?" Jihyo asked a little more sheepishly than she wanted, but when Sana was mad, she could be scary. The last time Jihyo had been on the other end of Sana's anger was when she finished a show without her that they'd been watching together for months.
For the first time in at least two hours, Sana turned to Jihyo and looked at her. It was a glare, and it sent a chill down Jihyo's spine, but it was better than Sana staring straight ahead and angrily sipping her peppermint tea.
"I'm sorry if I did something wrong, but I don't-" Jihyo tried to explain what she thought could possibly be going through Sana's head, but she was coldly interrupted by a scoff.
Sana sat her mug down beside Jihyo's and crossed her arms over her chest, sinking back into the couch. "You really don't know what you did to make me this upset?"
Jihyo opened her mouth, thought for a few seconds, and closed it again. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "If I knew I would have apologized a hundred times by now."
If an eye roll could be heard, Jihyo's sure that the one Sana gave her would have been heard in California. Jihyo grimaced and leaned back into the arm of the couch, placing her hands in her lap to fidget with the hem of one of her pajama pant legs.
Sana huffed and pulled her phone out, scrolling through the tabs she had open on her phone. When she found the one she needed, she turned her phone towards Jihyo, handing it to her.
Jihyo raised an eyebrow in confusion as she hesitantly picked her girlfriend's phone up. From the title, it looked like any shitty article a netizen would write. Jihyo scrolled through, not bothering to read any of the text until her eyes landed on the pictures included.
All the girls were in at least one tabloid article every few months or so. Most of them were stupid and had little to no proof to back up the bullshit claims they were making, but occasionally, there were those few that slipped through the cracks. They were still a load of crap, but they were harder to get rid of.
The one that Jihyo looked at was one with little to no proof to back up bullshit claims, but the series of four pictures would look damning in any context to Sana.
Jihyo was walking side-by-side with Itzy's Yeji. Judging from the outfits they were wearing and the date the article was published, Jihyo guessed that they were coming out of one of the music show studios. They weren't doing anything weird like holding hands, but their hands were pretty damn close.
Zooming in until the quality of the pictures were no better than an '80s video game, Jihyo determined — even if she knew she wasn't in the first place — that she was indeed not holding hands with Yeji.
"I don't see what I did wrong. I was walking out of a music show with Yeji, but we weren't holding hands or anything like that." Jihyo's eyebrows were knitted together as she still tried to figure out why Sana would be so upset over something like this.
"I can see that, Jihyo. That's not why I'm pissed off at you right now." Sana rolled her eyes again and picked her phone back up, laying it in her lap. "I'm pissed off because halfway through the party you were standing pretty fucking close to Yeji. You put her hand on her hip, and you refilled her drink."
"Sana, there were so many people in that space that I barely had room to breathe. My hand was on Yeji's hip for a millisecond because someone was trying to squeeze by her. She didn't hear that someone was trying to get by, so I tapped her hip to get her attention. And I offered to refill hers since I was making the trip to refill yours."
Although Jihyo did make a fair point that the room they were in was packed, it didn't make Sana any less upset. "You could have just told her that someone wanted to get by. You didn't have to touch her like that."
Jihyo let out a small sigh and uncrossed her legs. She got up and sat beside Sana, taking her girlfriend's hand into her own. Sana half-heartedly tried to tug her hand out of Jihyo’s, but she was kind of glad to be touching her again.
"Baby look at me please." Jihyo's voice was soft. She knew that Sana was still pissed off and she knew that it wasn't for the most awful reason it could possibly be, but she knew how jealous Sana could get.
Sana waited a few seconds before she barely turned her head to look at Jihyo. She knew that Jihyo was just going to try and be sweet like she always was, but it wasn't going to work this time.
"I'm sorry that I put my hand on Yeji's hip, but I promise it wasn't because I was trying to come onto her or something." Jihyo held Sana's hand up to her lips, gently kissing the back of it. "I realize now that I could have just told her, but I was afraid that she wouldn't hear me because she didn't hear the person who was trying to get by."
Sana stayed silent, unwilling to budge on the matter. If Jihyo was so sorry, then she shouldn't have done it in the first place.
"I love you, and I don't want anyone but you. I try to make that clear in everything I do."
"But what about all those girls at the awards shows that we talk to, and you flirt with?" Sana frowned and squeezed Jihyo's hand.
Jihyo just chuckled and shook her head, kissing the back of Sana's hand again. "Baby, I promise you I'm not flirting with them. I'm just trying to make them comfortable because most of them are rookies and it can be scary to go to those award shows and events. Remember how nervous we were until some of the older idols decided to talk to us?"
It had been ages since they debuted, but Sana still remembered her first year as a member of Twice like it was yesterday. Everything was so new and exciting, but it was also terrifying. They knew people in the industry at all the shows and events they went to, but it was scary trying to talk to people you had seen and idolized in your childhood.
Sana sighed, her anger and jealousy slowly melting away. It was almost impossible for her to ever be mad at Jihyo. Especially when Jihyo was peppering light kisses to the back of her hand like she was the most special person in the world.
"I just don't want you to get bored of me or think that I'm not good enough for you anymore." Sana mumbled, her true feelings starting to show through her usually bright and confident exterior.
Since that first day she met Sana, Jihyo knew that her girlfriend struggled with self-confidence. It took a while for Sana to start liking the face she saw staring back at her in the mirror every day. Twice got popular quickly but it took Sana years to grow into the bubbly and confident girl she was now.
"I would never get bored of you, Sana. I've thought that you were too good for me since the first day we started dating." Jihyo let out a small laugh, a soft smile on her face as she pulled Sana into her side. "You know how you've been drinking the same peppermint tea every night for the past three years?"
Sana let Jihyo pull her close and wrap an arm around her shoulder. Out of instinct, she easily melted into her, wrapping her arm around Jihyo's waist. "Yeah."
"You're still not tired of it, are you? You still get excited when you get home from a long schedule and take that first sip." Jihyo rubbed a soothing hand up and down Sana's arm, the other still holding hers.
Sana shook her head again. Other than seeing Jihyo after a long schedule, that peppermint tea was the thing she was most excited to see and taste. It had a soothing minty but mild flavor, and it managed to cool her down.
"Even though I've been with you since we debuted and I see you almost every day now that we're living together, I'm not tired of you. You're my peppermint tea." Jihyo kissed the crown of Sana's head, continuing the soothing motion on her arm. "Even if I've had the shittiest day in the world, I get so excited that I get to come home and eventually see you."
It was things like this that made it impossible for Sana to not love Jihyo. She knew exactly what to say to let Sana know that she was, in fact, not going anywhere.
"It doesn't matter if you're wearing an expensive dress with the most beautiful makeup or cheap pajamas and no makeup at all. I still get those butterflies that are about to burst out of my stomach each time I see you."
It was quiet for a moment as Sana took Jihyo's words in. Eventually, pushed away from Jihyo's side a little and looked up at her, searching for any insincerity in her girlfriend's eyes. When she saw nothing but pure love and adoration, Sana leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to Jihyo's cheek.
"I'm sorry I got jealous. I just... I love you."
Despite hearing them at least four times a day from Sana, those three words still made Jihyo's heart melt. "You don't have to apologize, baby. It's okay to be jealous sometimes, but just remember that it's always going to be you and me."
Sana nodded and flashed Jihyo that perfect smile she fell head over heels for every day. Jihyo leaned forward a bit and gently placed her lips against Sana's.
She tasted just like peppermint tea, and she was so in love.
#twice fluff#twice angst#twice#twice imagines#sana#jihyo#kpop fluff#girl group fluff#sana x jihyo#minatozaki sana#park jihyo#gg fluff
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I hate that my lack of sufficient artistic skill and writing abilities is preventing me from drawing a comic or writing a fic where Gilda Gold and Harvey Dent contemplates the symbolism of the blindfolds on statues of Lady Justice.
So, the modern symbolism of Lady Justice being blindfolded is of course to symbolise how she is impartial and does not judge by appearance, "Justice is Blind" and all that. Yet, if this article is to be believed, it may have initially satirically represented Lady Justice being blind to the injustice occurring before her.
Another thing to note, contrary to some of the misinformation I've been seeing online, Lady Justice is NOT Themis (a goddess of DIVINE law and customs, not earthly temporal justice), and she's definitely NOT Nemesis (a goddess of divine RETRIBUTION, balance and fortune who emerges to smite the hubristic and wicked when Themis is disrespected). She's probably not even Dike (temporal, human justice), Themis' daughter. Rather, she's the Roman Justitia, first introduced by Emperor Augustus, and used ever since by various emperors in their iconography to declare themselves protectors of justice. (CORRECTION: Well, normally. Some statues of Lady Justice ARE meant to of Themis or Dike, though from what I can tell, they tend to not be blindfolded as often.)
Naturally, as a sculptor, and as someone with perhaps at least a passing interest in Hellenistic mythology and iconography (if we go off the headcanon I've come across where she's the originator of the nickname Apollo, either by calling Harvey that, or by having him model for a statue of Apollo she made, which the press picked up on), she'd know about this stuff.
Imagine her bringing it up to Harvey, back in the early days of their respective careers. Them chatting about what ideal justice looks like, whether she should be impartial and dispassionate, weighing only the evidence presented before her, or whether she should be clear-eyed, letting no injustice go unrighted under her steely, watchful gaze. Them talking about whether earthly concepts of justice under the law is inextricable from the ruling power of corruptible institutions. Whether public statues like that are symbolic ideals to strive for or propagandistic icons masking what really goes on.
Imagine Harvey, walking into the Gotham courthouse on that fateful day against "Boss" Maroni, glancing up at that statue of Lady Justice, her inscrutable expression, her hidden blindfolded eyes, and wondering what it means for him.
Imagine Gilda, walking past the Gotham courthouse, months after the incident, seeing Lady Justice, blind and impotent, sword sheathed, scale rusted, the details of her features marred by the years of acid rain from the noxious fumes of Gotham's poorly regulated industries, and her sadness turns acrid at the city that wears down and scars everything in it.
Imagine Gilda being commissioned to sculpt a new statue. This time, Justice's eyes will not be shielded.
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How do you think Anzu would interact with all of the cast if she survived her first trial? I could see her getting along well with Joe and Nao
(I'll answer this for characters she interacts with in canon because I like imagining what her friendships could be like if they had more time to develop.)
Sara Chidouin - I think she'd get along with Sara really well during 1-1 and 1-2 since she's similar to Joe, but I think it might've been hard for Sara to interact with her directly in the aftermath of Joe's death. However, I could see their friendship being repaired during 3A and 3B.
Joe Tazuna - I imagine that Joe and Anzu would really get along. They're both energetic people who see the best in others, and I think they'd really latch onto each other's optimistic personalities.
Gin Ibushi - Anzu views Gin as a little brother figure, and Gin mostly likes Anzu in turn. He wishes her head would be more in the game though, and can get frustrated with her.
More Undercut
Keiji Shinogi - Keiji's primary emotion toward Anzu is concern. He tends to worry that she's going to get herself or someone else hurt by not thinking things through all the way. He wishes she would be more logical about things sometimes, but still likes her as a person. I think Anzu would find him suspicious.
Alice Yabusame - Alice becomes protective of Anzu over time. He sees the energetic part of Reko's personality in her and the same passion for their creative hobby. Because of that, he'd be quite fond of her and view her like a little sister figure. Much like canon I think Anzu would fear Alice at first but come to view him as an ally with time.
Reko Yabusame - Much like canon, Reko would take an instant liking to Anzu. She's a weak and sweet person who Reko wants to protect, and they'd bond over their shared creative passion for their respective artistic endeavors. In return Anzu really likes Reko, and certainly considers her a friend.
Nao Egokoro - I think they'd get along super well. They both have similar personalities, and I think Nao's development might be inspirational to Anzu. If Nao can look forward, maybe she can as well. I think Nao would end up being a really good role model for Anzu,
Kazumi Mishima - Mishima would take an instant liking to Anzu because she's about the age of one of his students. That would put him instantly into mentor mode, and I think Anzu would react positively to that since she has a mentor of her own outside the death game. I think she'd find his demeanor comforting.
Q-taro Burgerberg - Q-Taro would throw Anzu under the bus along with the rest during the first main game, but as his arc progressed he'd become really protective of her and come to see the value in her lighthearted nature. I think Anzu would be really wary of Q-Taro after he threw her under the bus, but she'd forgive him with time and be really distraught at the end of 3B.
Kai Satou - I could see Kai being...confused by Anzu. He's had to be focused on everything around him from such a young age, I don't think he'd know what to do with someone so optimistic and lighthearted. I think Anzu would think Kai was sort of weird like the rest of the cast do, but she'd be excited to have a cook in the game with them.
Kanna Kizuchi - I think they'd care about each other and enjoy their lighter personalities. I could see them being very fond of their company and spending much of their time together having light-hearted chats. I don't think Kanna would cling to Anzu like she does Sara since she has such a different personality from Kugie.
Shin Tsukimi - I made an entire post about their potential dynamic here!
#asks#Anzu Kinashi#YTTD#Your Turn To Die#Shin Tsukimi#Kanna Kizuchi#kai satou#q taro burgerberg#Kazumi Mishima#nao egokoro#Reko Yabusame#Alice Yabusame#keiji shinogi#Gin Ibushi#Joe Tazuna#sara chidouin
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Hi! I’d love to get a matchup for Hazbin Hotel! 💓💖💕
my pronouns are she/her and I’m asexual biromantic (so any gender is fine). I’m an ESFJ and a Gemini. I have green eyes and dyed cherry red hair. I dress with vintage/fairy grunge clothes. Long skirts and corsets are my fav type of outfit. I wear lots of rings and crystal/pearl necklaces and love to exchange them with others.
I’m the mom friend of the group, always there for everyone and my friends say that I’m really good at comforting people. I’m also calm and responsible, I usually am the one that takes care of other people. I’m very optimistic, I always try to see the good in everything and I often put other’s needs before my own. I love making others laugh to lighten the situation. I’m not afraid to stand up for myself or for someone else but sometimes it’s hard for me to say no to things. I also dislike when someone is too serious and really can’t take a joke as I tend to use humor as my coping mechanism. I’m also very ambitious, I always try to achieve my goals.
My love languages are, receiving, physical touch and words of affirmation and giving, quality time and words of affirmation.
I absolutely love listening to music, it helps me relax and I really like reading. I especially love fantasy and I recently got into greek mythology. I also love watching horror movies even though it’s impossible to scare me. I also play Dungeons and Dragons with my friends anytime I can. also, I absolutely love musicals and I’m definitely a theatre kid.
Have a great day <3
I'd be happy to match you up 🖤
Your matchup is....
💟VELVETTE💟
● Velvette comes across one of your posts on PentaGram. It's an ootd with a few new items you've bought. It's not something she'd personally wear, but she thinks it looks really good on you.
● She decides to follow your account. Maybe you could inspire some new looks for her next fashion show.
●When you see the notification on your phone you almost faint.
●Not you being mutuals with an Overlord-
●I mean, you're flattered but how do you make the first move now? Suddenly you get an idea...
●In your next post, you wear some jewellery from her brand. It gets her attention and she comments,
nice necklace you've got there 🤫💟
●From there, you begin an online friendship and DM most days. Conversation at first is mainly centred about clothes. However, pretty soon, you begin talking about your personal lives.
●She uses lots of emojis. Her signature one is "💟".
●Also, pet names. Her go-to is "hun".
●You are both the "mom friends" of your respective friends groups, so Velvette feels pretty relaxed when ranting about the other Vees to you. And there's something about the way she talks, the cadence maybe, or perhaps the bluntness that makes her stories funny to you.
ugh he calls himself an overlord. "trust us with your entertainment". yeah right... i wouldn't trust him to cause a piss up in a brewery!
love him to bits tho ofc 💟
●Because you have a similar sense of humour, you find it easy to be yourself around Velvette. Aren't people meant to feel scared around overlords?
●You weren't expecting her to be so friendly, never mind asking to meet up in person!
●The first time you meet, she invites you to a concert for one of your favourite artists at the Vee tower and you are a little terrified.
●However, once you arrive, she comes over and gives you the biggest hug and all those nerves disappear.
●You hang out pretty regularly. Usually in the Vee tower due to her high profile. You often talk about your interests whilst watching movies.
●She doesn't quite get the appeal of Dungeons and Dragons, however she takes an odd amount of interest in your rants about mythology. You're not sure why, it didn't seem like her thing...
●The date of her next fashion show rolls along. She has kept the details very secret, however she has given you a front row seat.
●The designs are stunning, with some familiar features. Draped fabric, pearls, metallic plates, gold accents, winged shoes... it's all inspired by the mythology you told her about!
● At the end, she invites you onstage and thanks you for inspiring her day after day. Afterwards, she kisses you on the cheek.
"Honestly hun, you are amazing. Can you blame me for showing you off? Now... how about you explain this Dragon whats-it game again? I want to understand it more this time."
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin velvette#velvette x reader#the vees#matchups#hazbin hotel matchup
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a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - chapter 1.4
"so eager to be in a headlock again?"
"only if it's by you."
he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble. © 2023 | eleni_cherie
»»»
masterlist: here
— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l
ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.
SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)
»»»
The sky was pitch black when Soyeon left work that evening. Now that she had returned, she'd been immediately assigned to two bigger projects and the meetings had felt endless. She dragged a sigh, looking up at the starless sky while walking to the metro.
Same old, same old.
As if nothing had ever happened, as if nothing had ever changed. Going to work every day and writing on songs for artists, hoping they'd perform well on charts. Everything was the same. Everything but Soyeon.
All of a sudden, everything seemed so absurd to her, so comically pointless and silly. Yeah, she still enjoyed working on songs but what was even the point in it if there were deadlines chasing them and she had to work on uplifting songs when internally not feeling happy at all. The only good thing was that she was able to pour everything into writing, helping her coping with that numbing feeling of emptiness knowing she wouldn't see him again.
Summertime was supposed to be exciting but all she felt was anxiety and sadness. Anxiety as her gut feeling kept telling her it wasn't simply over yet and sadness about having parted ways with Yoongi, most likely forever. The blue feeling about that unwilling to fade that easily.
At least he had been right about one thing: Interpol had indeed come knocking on her door the following day, asking her if she'd known about their escape or heard of him. And she'd put on her best fake-surprised expression, shaking her head vigorously and affirming she hadn't had a clue but wouldn't deny being happy hearing about it.
It must've been convincing enough as they hadn't bothered her again since.
Thinking about it now, she technically could try finding him. She knew where he lived after all. However, he had made it clear to her that he didn't want that. That he didn't believe it'd be a good idea. And she respected it, although it was tearing her apart a bit. Just a little bit. A tiny bit. It drove her mad how he'd made that decision for her.
A yawn left her lips, interrupting her thoughts as she entered the main street. She was sleepy, she realised. And hungry. She hadn't had a proper meal all day long yet. Just lived by her iced coffee and some snacks here and there. She was just overall tired.
Too tired to notice two men following her through the mass of pedestrians in the busy street.
Only when one stumbled into a food stand, creating a ruckus and earning scolding from the vendor, she noticed them. And the way they shoved past people with determination in their eyes.
It was like a déjà-vu. Those cold stares, those suits - her instincts instantly kicked in and she started running. Not caring about the weird looks she received by pushing through people.
The metro sign was glowing in the distance, it wasn't far but she decided to take another way to hopefully make them lose sight of her. She turned into a sidestreet and into a bbq-restaurant she knew had a back door next to the restrooms that was leading into a back alley. From there she entered different street after pulling on the hood of her black hoodie. Another station entrance already in near distance. She dared peeking behind her, not able spotting them anymore and she sighed in relief when reaching the stairs leading underground. Quickly making her way down to her platform.
Cautiously, she stayed at the far back. Her eyes wandering over the waiting crowd. Making sure those guys hadn't followed her till there. And only when the train arrived and she finally entered, her racing heart began calming down.
Perhaps she had only imagined things. Perhaps those men weren't actually looking at her some type of way. Perhaps they weren't after her. Perhaps it had been two regular men walking home from work. Perhaps those past weeks had made her literally paranoid, beginning seeing threats when there were none.
The keys clicked in the lock as she turned them, entering her apartment with dragged steps.
Soyeon felt exhausted. Mentally and physically.
After slipping out of her shoes, she trotted into her living room and let herself fall onto the couch. Sighing contently as she closed her eyes. Staying like that until her stomach rumbled and she forced herself sit up with the last bit of energy left. Grabbing her phone out of her pocket and ordering some delivery food. Not feeling like standing at a stove right now.
And her eyes closed once again, her body sliding back down onto the couch, deciding to rest until her food arrived. Unsure of how much time had passed when the ringing of the doorbell rudely interrupted her short nap. Much to her empty stomach's delight though. She rubbed her eyes, seeing half an hour had already passed.
Still drowsy from the nap, she opened the door expecting to see the delivery guy with her food there. Instead, she found a tall foreigner looking down at her with a sharp glance that could make even hell freeze.
He was older, dressed in an elegant white suit, with a gray mustache and an engraved wooden cane. And despite her being certain of not having seen him ever before, there was an unknown familiarity she recognised.
Next to him standing a shorter man, also a foreigner.
"Soyeon, I assume?" the shorter man asked. It was more of a rhetorical question. Of course they knew it was her, they were at her door after all.
However, she sensed the obvious danger and was ready to deny it, when the older man stepped forward and wordlessly brushed past her. Followed by his assistant.
"Wh-"
"C'è molto di cui dobbiamo discutere." The older man spoke up with a hoarse voice, as if he hadn't spoken in awhile.
"There's a lot we need to discuss," the other man translated.
Swallowing down her mind's concerns, she tried collecting herself. Instinctively knowing who that was and what this was about. Following the men further inside to at least hear them out. After all, she was certain running out of the apartment right now would be pointless. There might be more waiting outside.
"You might've fooled these idiots my son's friends sent, but it wasn't hard to find you."
"Oh.. really?" she nervously laughed. So it hadn't been irrational paranoia, she had indeed been chased earlier. "Your son's friends.."
"Non mi conosci."
"You don't know me."
"Ma tu conosci mio figlio."
"But you know my son."
The older man stopped in his tracks, glancing at her briefly as he was standing in front of the large window.
"Y-you mean the guy who kidnapped me? Yeah, I think I remember," she mumbled dryly. Making the younger man's eyes widen before he translated it to his boss. Presumely without the sarcastic undertone.
The man in white nodded slowly, his stern eyes not leaving the scenery outside before replying in italian again and his assistant translating his words. "I know my son hasn't made the wisest decisions and he's being punished for that right now. I got sick of always bailing him out. But that was his wrongdoing, not mine. That's not why I am here."
"You see, he might be an idiot, but he's still my son. And whatever he does, also affects me. Whether I like it or not. And what happened back there in Florence, sadly affected me and my reputation a lot. And I can't let it slide like that."
"Your little friends there created quite the ruckus during our annual family gala. A prestige gala held over generations with equally prestigious guests. So you can imagine the headlines afterwards."
"So what do you want from me now?" Soyeon carefully asked, afraid of the answer.
The man eyed her from the corner of his eye, scoffing lightly. "Corregge."
"Amends."
"A-and how?"
"We thought your friends would be dealt by interpol here, but they fled. And we wanna know where to."
She didn't know where this courage came from despite the intimidatingly calm face of the man in front of her. "You're rich, can't you find that out?"
"I could. But it'd take longer, so I decided to ask you instead."
"Well, unfortunately for you, I don't know either," she lied. Or perhaps it wasn't a complete lie after all considering she didn't know Jimin and Taehyung's exact addresses in Tainan. "You see, we ain't that close. I still don't know exactly why they even helped me back then."
Emilio Rossi closed his eyes for a moment when listening to the translation of his employee. Nodding then. "Que peccato."
"What a pity."
Her eyes widened, scared he didn't believe her or worse - wanted to use her as a bait now. So she unintentionally flinched when the man moved. Her tense shoulders relaxing, however, when realising he was walking back to the door.
"You know, I'm not the only one after them.. the people my son unfortunetely bargained with, these 'friends', are also after them. They're in fact assisting me. However, if I fail imprisoning them again, they want to bring them to justice themselves. And I don't think they'd just want to put them back behind bars like I do."
The shorter man pulled out an envelope then, handing it to Soyeon who hesitatedly accepted it.
"Deliver them my invitation, which they better accept. Otherwise I'll be forced to pay you another visit. And you don't want that."
He opened the door and his translator followed suit. And with that he bowed and left as well. Closing the door behind him.
The apartment fell into an oppressing silence. The ticking of the clock and the ringing pulse in her ears the only noises left. And as she came back to her senses and let everything that had happened in the past minutes sink in, panic started rising. Taking over her.
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
»»»
The sudden ringing of the doorbell made Yoongi flinch.
It had been early in the morning. Not too early for him, but definitely too early for anyone he knew visiting him. Besides, he didn't expect any visitors. If he ignored it the person would maybe give up. And indeed, after a few seconds it stopped and he exhaled contently. Focusing back on his training, when the ringing started anew. Making him internally groan as he put his katana away to check who was being so persistent.
Who knew, maybe it was something important after all.
Checking the camera, he didn't recognise the person standing in front of it, though.
With a slow move, he opened the door. Catching the young woman standing there off-guard. She blinked at him, her lips eventually parting.
"H-ey, uhm, are you Yoongi?" she asked with uncertain voice, causing his brows to furrow. He was good in memorising faces and he surely didn't know hers. He mustered her carefully, eventually deeming her of no danger and nodded.
The woman looked seemingly relieved at this and she rummaged in her bag, taking out a slightly crinkled envelope. Holding it out for him. "I think you should read this."
The crease between his brows deepened as he hesitatingly took it from her grip. Reading the name of the sender. And his head snapped towards her.
"W-who are you?"
"I'm a friend of hers and you should read this, now," she insisted with urgency in her voice. She turned around then, already walking away when he called out for her again.
"W-wait, is she okay?" he swallowed, regretting having had his phone switched off for the whole week as he had spent most of the time outside the city. Meditating to try sort out his emotions and scattered thoughts of frustration. Now fear of Soyeon being in danger arising inside him.
Her friend's black hair swayed as she looked over her shoulder.
"She's fine, as far as I know. It's not her who's in trouble."
He blinked confused at her statement, watching her glancing him up and down for a moment. She nodded then. "I don't know what the hell you got her into, but I can see why she likes you," she giggled to herself then, "Sorry, but I couldn't help reading both letters. Don't tell her though."
And with that she disappeared in the direction of the elevator and out of his sight.
Yoongi stood there at the open door for a second too long, processing this strange girl's words and how Soyeon had mentioned having a friend in that city, assuming this must've been her when remembering the envelope in his hands. He quickly closed the door behind him and walked to his couch in the living room, opening the mysterious letter.
The first one being clearly adressed to her friend:
"Hey Shushu,
I know this must be a weird request, especially coming in a letter when we talked on the phone only a few days ago, but I wouldn't ask you for this favour if it wasn't urgent.
I'll explain everything to you the next time we talk but for now, please bring the other contents in this envelope to a guy named Min Yoongi who lives in -"
He paused, taking the second letter out.
"Since this is urgent and you won't pick up calls or reply to texts, I hope you'll forgive me for disobeying your wish again (even if I still disagree with it) and sending my friend over.
I received some unexpected visitor, the italian douche's father. And he was looking for you guys, wanting to turn you in again.
I obviously didn't tell him anything, but he said some 'friends' of his son were also after you. And he gave me this invitation for you with the remark of coming back if you dismiss it.
Listen, I don't believe he'd actually come back and hurt me. But I still felt like warning you, in case he or those other people end up finding you guys on their own after all.
I hope they won't.
Please, stay safe.
- Soyeon xx"
"Of course," he mumbled under his breath and took the third object out of the envelope. A folded card out of thick quality paper with a red wax seal keeping it closed. With a deep sigh, he cracked open the seal.
"Dear wanted criminals,
Me and my son's friend and business partner Morita invite you to his Kyoto mansion on the 21st of this month at 7pm to a last night of freedom before we request you to surrender to the police and face your lawful trial.
You are advised to accept this invitation.
If you do not, you will have to face the consequences set by my co-host. And I cannot guarantee for your or your loved ones' lives if you disobey my request.
Respectfully, Emilio Rossi"
He lowered his hand with dark eyes staring out over the card's edge. Processing the message he had just read.
He should've known this wasn't over just yet. It never was. And yet he couldn't help but feel relieved that they weren't after Soyeon anymore at least. Still, the fact they had contacted her and knew were she lived put him at unease. And that they were now after him and his friends was grave.
Again proving that them getting involved had been a terrible idea.
He grabbed his phone from the table then, switching it on for the first time in a week. Jimin picking up after the third ringing.
"Yes?"
"We got a problem."
Silence followed before he heard a small whine on the other line. "Uh fine, come over."
»»»
next chapter: 1.5 here
Sorry for taking a bit longer. Was kinda struggling with this one :') Hopefully the next one won't take so long.
Also hope the Italian is correct T-T let me know if not.
Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡
It motivates me to keep writing :)
#min yoongi#yoongi#bts suga#yoongi au#suga au#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#thief au#yoongi mafia#bts mafia#gangster au#criminal au#s2l#strangers to lovers#bts#bts au#bts fic#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#jeon soyeon#bts fanfic#bts series#taehyung#seokjin#jungkook#namjoon#hoseok#jimin#yoongi slowburn
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disney descendants - but add TATTOOS
the Docks house the majority of the tattoo trade on the Isle, so the Sea Three grow up treating tattoos more casually while they've got more of a rebellious vibe for VKs living inland, like the Core Four.
to the VKs on the docks, tattoos most often serve as a show of ownership or as self expression.
for the Core Four and AKs, I imagine it's more common to see tattoos as individual pieces of art.
there's a lot of blurring that line, but seeing tattoos as self expression vs art can carry a lot into both how a person perceives tattoos in general and how they tend to design and place their tattoos.
Jay shows up at the Dragon's Den one day with a large, traditional, fully shaded, badass cobra curling around his bicep.
Evie and Carlos are fascinated but also a bit uncomfortable.
Mal immediately feels challenged, artistically, and starts designing a badass dragon design that she wants to get on her back someday.
Evie and Carlos don't get tattoos until years later, when they're in Auradon and comfortable in their own skin and are able to go to a nice, clean, entirely above-the-board tattoo studio.
Evie gets a little crown on her ankle.
Carlos ends up getting a number of random, small designs over time. Jane's name, a silhouette of Dude, the date that he last saw his mother (the date from when he's been free).
Evie gets a second tattoo eventually, on a dare, and gets a small ruler design on her wrist that's perfect for helping measure hems and edges for her projects.
Mal waits until getting settled in Auradon, too - first because she doesn't trust the skill of the tattoo artists on the Isle to do it "right," and then because she doesn't think her tattoo would be viewed as appropriate for the future Queen of Auradon.
once everything has settled out post-D3, though, and she's confident in her skin she brings it up with Ben (because having the Sea Three around is making her remember how much she really wants to get a tattoo, not that she'd ever admit to that).
Ben totally supports her and she gets a fantastical dragon across her back, painstakingly done by one of the finest artisans in Auradon.
Harry started tattooing himself when he was a kid, messing around with stick-and-poke techniques he saw the older kids using.
they didn't have great ink and stick-and-pokes usually fade pretty fast anyway, even faster when you're constantly in the sun, so he had a lot of fun with the canvas of his hands, arms, and thighs and did a lot of experimentation.
once he and Gil got closer, Harry did a lot of small designs on Gil when he was bored.
Uma got the first real tattoo of all of them.
she showed up at one of the tattoo shops dragging a bag full of tips and left several sessions later with a full sleeve of ocean waves crashing against a ship that was surrounded by tentacles.
she was pleased by how the artist had gotten it to look like the tentacles could either be pulling the ship to its doom or just giving it a hug.
Harry absolutely loved it and began going to get himself a new tattoo every time he scraped together enough tips and stolen coins.
a compass on the back of his hand; a dagger down his thigh; constellations dotting his arms; a menagerie growing one by one of seahorses and sharks and gulls.
he gets a traditional pinup on his hip; a grand, proper pirate's ship on one knee and a kraken mirroring its style on the other; he has multiplication tables and other memorization tricks done on the inside of his wrists to help him on tests.
months after his first (and only) hesitant, respectful request, Uma lets him get her name tattooed as a tramp stamp.
she goes with him and directs the artist and he ends up with her name surrounded by tentacles; they're strategically positioned to curl around the letters but also draw the eye to where they disappear beneath his waistband.
Uma didn't get tattoos as often but they were always grand and befitting her rank as Captain.
she adhered religiously to her colors and aesthetic, creating a map of black, turquoise, cyan, and purple whirls and lines that made her look ever inch the magical being she should be.
Uma complemented the heavy linework with little skulls and bones, sea creatures, and rolling waves.
I've seen some people say that "Wharf Rats" is just an insult Carlos called the crew, but I like the headcanon that it's the actual name of Uma's crew and that everyone who joined up was required to get a tattoo as a promise of loyalty.
Harry totally designed it himself.
Uma and Harry have the largest versions of it, so they added some extra detail and flare to theirs. Uma's on her chest and Harry's across his upper back.
most of the crew have theirs on a bicep but Gil got his on the back of his neck.
Gil didn't get any ink until he came back to the Docks and joined the crew.
once he was back, though, he tagged along and got something done every time Uma or Harry went.
he liked to get Harry to help him come up with ideas for designs that would draw attention to his arms and muscles.
Gil got lots of flowers and plants and birds on his arms, eventually tying the designs together into full sleeves.
Uma and Harry would roll their eyes but loved how badass Gil could manage to make a bunch of flowers.
colored tattoos were far less common than black linework and shading because it was much harder to come by substantial quantities of colorful ink on the Isle.
having his flowers colored made Gil's sleeves pop out and draw attention even more.
he got roaring waves and sharks and sea monsters on his back, pulling up into his Wharf Rats tattoo, with everything perfectly designed to flatter the flex of his shoulders and back.
on his trip around Auradon with Jay, Gil had a lot of fun getting a new tattoo in each kingdom, coloring in his chest with new kinds of flowers and filling up his legs with a variety of designs that reminded him of his favorite stops.
once she escaped the barrier and was restored access to her magic and heritage, Uma learned that her she could make her tattoos glow and reflect her natural magic.
she waited a long time for the day when she, Harry, and Gil were all free from the Isle and she was able to casually take her shirt off and enjoy Harry tripping on his feet and falling on his face at how extra stunning her tattoos were now.
Harry took advantage of the better resources for tattoos in Auradon and had his tattoos relined, as a lot of them were beginning to fade.
he had red lines and shading worked into the designs to give them an extra bit of pop, cohesiveness, and general Hook aesthetic.
for AKs, the most common tattoos were small and easy to hide, like significant others' names, important dates, and little minimalist designs.
Harry won a dare once and coerced Jay and several of Jay's tourney friends into going and getting larger, more artistic designs, though.
to Harry's surprise (and Uma and Gil's delight), some of Harry's first AK friends ended up being heirs from kingdoms like Matinui and DunBroch, with whom he bonded over tattoos after they approached him with admiration for his ink and for his opinions on design.
kingdom pride and fairytale tattoos are definitely a thing. an artist would have a lookbook with glass slippers and well known castles and glass covered roses.
just. TATTOOS guys.
#disney descendants#descendants headcanons#tattoos#descendants verse with TATTOOS#core four#sea three#mal descendants#jay descendants#evie descendants#carlos de vil#uma descendants#harry hook#gil descendants#bal#huma
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Can you talk about Komaru x Kokichi more?
Their a bit interested and I wanted to know more about their relationship!!!
This is a ship held together with one piece of art and my danganronpa headcanons truly, which I will be glad to share.
First off, Komaru's a jock with a love of fun, while I wouldn't call Kokichi a jock he CERTAINLY has a lot of energy and a love of fun himself. I could EASILY see him coming out of nowhere, slamming a hand on her arm, and yelling TAG and Komaru does not HESITATE to give chase beyond some mild complaining as she runs that she was doing something! Komaru has so much energy and gets SO into things, even in the middle of murder demon hunting city she's getting excited about puzzles and doing fun voices, Kokichi would LOVE that.
Kokichi's a nerd at heart and Komaru's a bit of a nerd as well, Kokichi likes anime, manga, and games, they could absolutely have in depth conversations about some of Kokichi's interests in pop culture that he doesn't normally have people to talk about, they ARE friends on Pokemon Go. Kokichi HAS beaten her in yugioh 20 times in a row. While Komaru is more of a 'girls' manga person then shounen, she's definitely still likely a fan of the more popular series. Komaru is picking up his yugioh references, he is finally vindicated in making them. Like she reads manga about a girl with a bomb inside her, Komaru's into some NICHE stuff.
Komaru is gullible but she's also smart, so while she's definitely falling for a lot of lies at first, she's going to get a lot better at spotting them over time, and may even lie back to him, which he won't mind because komaru is a TERRIBLE liar so it's just kinda funny. If Komaru can become best friends with Toko and Syo, Kokichi isn't going to be as much of a challenge if Komaru decides she wants to hang out with him. Her ability to just take things as they are, means even if Kokichi spouts the most outrageous lies she'll give a fond sigh and be like "that's our Kokichi."
With Komaru's sense of justice, she'd be willing to help Kokichi a lot with minor pranks, she is laughing when shuichi runs headfirst into clear tape like those videos. However her determination and sense of doing what's right means she can also better stand up to Kokichi when he's in the wrong or doing something risky.
As most of his organization, if not all of it besides Kokichi, would be untalented, I have always felt like kokichi would have a secret respect and curiosity not many other talented have for the untalented along with a skepticism towards the authority of the ultimates.
Sure the ultimate artist can make something beautiful, but Kokichi is looking for a sense of soul, a sense of emotion, something that screams "I AM HERE, YOU CANT ERASE ME" things that challenge society, challenge perceptions, and you don't really get that with ultimates due to ultimates being the upper echelon of society that should be challenged. Komaru is so herself, and so driven, she puts soul into everything she does, and I think Kokichi would respect that a bit. I think Kokichi would love to see what she was capable of if he put a can of spraypaint in her hand and pushed her towards a blank wall.
So with both of them being childish at heart energetic people who put passion and soul into everything they do along with being total dorks in secret, I could easily see them getting along. Komaru's down for whatever Kokichi will throw her way as a challenge, and Kokichi's down for seeing what this strange girl who society says should be a nobody is going to do to change that world who tries to stop her. Even if you don't want them romantically, I think they'd become really good friends if given the chance as Komaru helps him put itching powder in everyone's clothes with a few sarcastic comments about Kokichi being a bad influence.
Also I like calling it Komouma instead of oumaru because then it feels like im tricking people into thinking my posts going to be komaeda you FOOLS get TRICKED.
Also heres the playlist
#ndrv3#ultra despair girls#komaru naegi#kokichi ouma#komouma#oumaru#ultimate talent development plan#musings from the music manager#anon chaos
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*The guards were loyal, perhaps to a fault.*
*They thanked their lord and obeyed without question, leaving Koschei practically alone in Cronus's presence. Those chains were meant to be for the protection of the rest of the palace's residences, and the threats were purely meant to keep the intruder in his place to show respect. Koschei was but one creature standing in the same room as a god...what actual danger and harm could he possibly be to the mighty all-powerful Cronus?*
*As it happened, not much except shoot him multiple expressions of skepticism and...confusion? It was hard to tell what was actually going on inside that horned head of his.*
Koschei: "Well, then you certainly have an eye for creativity."
*His face instantly beamed into a polite smile, his tone friendly and talkative.*
Koschei: "The styles are very varied, no question. I guess it's thanks to you, aspiring artists who would never have the spotlight they deserve for their hard work won't have to live knowing their passions were in total vain and doomed to fade into obscurity. Well done, you!~"
*He beamed at Cronus congratulatory, his eyes closed and head cocked to one side.*
Koschei: "Except..."
*His yellow-ish orange eyes snapped back open.*
Koschei: "Now, please forgive me for saying so, but I could've sworn I saw a piece belonging to none other than the infamous Daphne Georgiou. A common citizen from any other point of view. I believe the work in question was...the Ruby Tree. Did you know- I mean, of course you already know, but still, that she spent whole fifteen years working on it?"
*His eyes narrowed a little*
Koschei: "Not necessarily on the painting itself, no, but rather, trying to come up with it. Trying to find a style that appealed to everyone, trying to become a truly great artist- her whole life she'd wanted that, to be a great artist I mean...to prove her personal ambitions meant something, to be given glory for following her dreams and told she was right to follow her heart, and...I suppose that's exactly what you've done, my lord! An actual god has given her the praise her work deserves! :D "
*It was true, someone like that couldn't hope to be more grateful! Koschei's tone was bubbly and grateful, he seemed to be almost giggling to himself.*
*And then it stopped abruptly.*
Koschei: "Except..."
*That word again...*
Koschei: "Her desires nearly tore her apart. She spent fifteen long years trying so hard to get it right, she started taking care of herself less and less." *His tone hardened, just a little,*
Koschei: "It started to create wedges in her relationships, it started affecting her every-day life at work, at home, until eventually she cried out in agonized realization her 'dreams' were tearing her apart. The only thing that stopped her from destroying the painting when she finished it was the fact it served as a useful reminder...a memento to the life lesson you don't need the praise of others to live your life, that you don't need others to respect your dreams...only you."
*Koschei turned his head thoughtfully.*
Koschei: "And so, she gave up professional painting and had no intention whatsoever to publicly display the Ruby Tree."
*He looked directly at Cronus now...his gaze was piercing.*
Koschei: "And yet, there it is, hanging on the gallery wall of the grand palace of great and generous lord Cronus..."
*Was that finally anger in his eyes...or smug disdain?*
Koschei: "By the way, the name's Valeyar Koschei...would you like a root-beer drop? :) "
Cronus eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The smile on his face froze into place, a mask of genteel patience.
"What an absurd rumour." He chuckled, "I bought that painting from an auction for magical items. The title appealed to me more so than the actual work of art. I had no idea it had such a colorful background! Really, you must tell me more. And I would LOVE a root beer drop, thank you."
Cronus had solidified this creature in his mind. A Trickster. Possibly even a trickster God. Ugly as Pan and with the mind of a madman. He'd need to tread carefully. Rules. Social norms. So long as he didn't react to the tricks, as long as he was polite and a good host, he'd be fine.
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☆•☆•☆
Seamless
@tropetember #5: famous au
outlast trials ♡ mother gooseberry ♡ prerelationship ♡ second person pov ♡ ofc ♡ ao3
Saying you are nervous would be an understatement. That's all right, you're not saying anything and no one is asking anyway. The questions will come later and you cannot wait to detail today's design with its accessories. You are great at your job, which should be no surprise given how much you like it. And how much you like her.
Phyllis Futterman is a lot of things; a successful TV host, a functional addict and the best employer you've had in your life. More importantly, though, she's your own personal nightmare today. Strongwilled, eclectic and with no regard for your education or skill in dressmaking, these wardrobe sessions are something you've come to look forward to as much as you dread them. You don't often get to rant on about fashion like this and she makes for an attentive, if often critical, audience. It's intense enough when you do this at the studio, surrounded by the rest of the team, and this is the first time she's coming to the newly acquired atelier. Your newly acquired atelier, because that's how good the show is going. It's, of course, in the corporation's name; but she's given you free range to set up shop. When she does things like this you think she might have a sliver of professional respect for you. As she gave you the news, though, she'd offered to get at least part time staff, in case you found it overwhelming, eyes glinting patronisingly. Of course you raised to the bait, biting out the type of reply that has her wondering why would anyone ever think Brits are polite outloud.
As she rushes in today clad in one of your works, a side smile breaks through when you see her despite yourself. You do good work. She wears it even better. You serve an early tea while showing her your sketches, and she's vocal about both your hits and what she considers your misses. She objects vehemently to a tulip sleeved new look dress the colour of gooseberries.
'That green is nasty.'
'It pairs well with the red in the headpiece, it's simple colour theory!'
'Gooseberry?' she leans over your notes. 'I didn't take you for the literal type.'
'I figured Americans like slapstick so much, let's not bother with any intricate symbolism.'
'It's too muted for a kid's show.'
Her voice is calm, refusing to acknowledge your words, and she is, ultimately, right. Maybe that's why you're spitting mad about it. Then again, it's always been easy for her to get a raise out of you. She turns the pages while you sulkily pour yourself more tea, and examine her expression from the corner of your eye. She's got such a commanding presence it's hard not to be put off when she dislikes something you've invested so much time into. You've been having fourteen hour days, trying to get the workshop together in record time all by yourself. And you do want her recognition. She's a remarkable artist and her show is on the rise, fresh off the war. Would it kill her to reciprocate an ounce of the regard you hold for her, as an entrepreneur? Unaware of your thoughts, she continues to flip through the lookbook. Or not.
'Don't pout. It's just the business'
'I'm not.'
'Brat.'
That catches you by surprise so much the scowl you give is only halfhearted. But it shouldn't, really. She's prone to flying into character, specially when you're working on this.
'Your pretty mouth in your pretty face would make a pretty smile.' She says, singsongy.
You huff, not as annoyed as you should be, and make a point of showing as many of your teeth as you can, lips tight in an unnatural expression. She shakes her head, amused. 'Are you serious, about the pants in a children's show?'
'Well, if it's all bad you can set it aflame.' you give a disinterested shrug. But you were, and tried to make them as feminine as possible to get around that.
She gets up and for a second you're sure you've finally exasperated her. It's a thrilling thought; part of you has been working for it since the job interview. Part of you is devastated. But she doesn't make to start a fire, or stalk out of the room like anyone should after almost an hour of your attitude. She sits down next to you, and you feel your breath hitch.
'Do you know why I hired you?'
You look down, unable to stop an embarrased flush from rising on your face. Shake your head once. And the truth is you don't. You've got a difficult personality, no American accreditations and a penchant for last decade's fashion. An ugly weight sets on your throat, and she forces you to look at her with a firm hand under your chin. You should get up and walk away, because otherwise you might start crying, and that's gonna make the rest of your antics look incredibly professional by comparison.
'Words.'
'No, I don't.' Your voice is clipped but even.
'You couldn't stop arguing with me during our meeting, and I knew you'd bring me designs I'd hate.' You try to look away, but she brings her other hand up, holding you with more strength than you expected. 'I knew you'd make clothes that had no place in this line of business.'
'I'm-' you hate apologising, but the truth is you're quite argumentative. 'I'm sorry.'
'If I wanted you to be sorry I wouldn't have hired you.'
'What?'
'You have ideas, ideas that anyone would dismiss as improbable, but you're set on them. I wanted to know how far you'd go I still do.' She sighs, resembling a weary mother so much it might make you cry had you had one. 'And of course I don't think it's all bad.'
You close your eyes, and manage to even out your breath. You don't know how to thank her, or for what even, so you deflect. 'So,' your voice is raspy now and you clear your throat before continuing. 'So what you said about the green...?'
'Awful.' Despite that, she looks fond as she shakes her head, releases you. Can't win them all, you figure. 'Terrible. Now, are you going to show me the dummies, or what have you even been doing here all week?'
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🍎🌶️🍋🍈🥑 for da girlies minah, vesper & lira!
tyyyyy // oc interview questions - fruits & veg
🍎 [RED APPLE] Who does your OC value above all else?
MINAH — objectively, herself. not even from an inflated ego perspective or anything just in the sense of like, she's the most important person in her own life. it's kind of a pragmatic egoism I guess.
VESPER — her inner inner circle. the handful of people who are truly closer than close, who make her feel like a person again when she gets caught up in the mask of the inquisitor (or even just the mask of a mage). she'd go to bat for any of the inner circle without a question (and a few of the outer circle; looking at you scout harding), but there are a few who are just Her People and mean more to her than she does to herself
LIRA — on the one hand, the People of Ferelden(TM). on the other, her family. so much of what she does it for the grief of losing her family and the way that forever changes her. nobody else quite fills that hole inside her, though a couple of the companions come close.
🌶️ [HOT PEPPER] Who would your OC declare their sworn enemy if they could meet them?
MINAH — [redacted] sorry
VESPER — truly whatever's left of the chantry. just that absolute mess trying to make some kind of power play in the midst of all the violence and bloodshed, who are encouraging everything that's going wrong while also blaming the inquisition for it. who want to pick a new divine to undermine the inquisition but also want her vote togive legitimacy to the position. fuck all of 'em.
LIRA — Howe. there can be no forgiving what he did to the Couslands. she's going to kill him no matter what.
🍋 [LEMON] What is their kryptonite/ultimate weakness?
MINAH — the guilt babey
VESPER — that little voice in the back of her head that says magic is meant to serve man and that means she should burn herself out to light the way for others. there's something a little self-sacrificing in her drive to do good and it's to her detriment most of the time
LIRA — her duty! she'd say it's her greatest strength but it's kinda a double edged sword. everything she does for duty tends to come back to make the rest of her life that much smaller and frailer and less, and it's also the thing to appeal to in order to get her to do anything
🍈 [MELON] If they had to be put into a box, what box would it be and why?
MINAH — there are so many boxes in minah's life. performer, artist, eldest daughter, thief, warden. I think eldest daughter is the one that she feels most stuck in years later. it's inescapable, even if her folks aren't around and she's no one's child.
VESPER — really, truly, at the end of the day she's just a teacher. it's how she leads and it's how she interacts with her friends and it's how she touches the world. all she's ever wanted to do has been to share what she knows and make the world better for the people coming after her.
LIRA — warden. she closes herself off to everything else after her recruitment and no matter what else happens that's always going to be at the core of her being.
🥑 [AVACADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?
MINAH — being a shifty little thief. there's a lot of emotional baggage that goes into her petty crime lifestyle and she refuses to be sorry about it and if you have a problem with it that's on you. she doesn't super care what moralizing gets heaped on her; surviving is surviving
VESPER — not to go with the obvious answer but it's gonna be the treatment of mages. she'll be polite about it for sure but she won't be shut down, no matter what. whatever else the circles might be—educational, structured, protective—they weren't kind. she has no problem saying that.
LIRA — the atrocities committed by howe and loghain. she respects the importance of making allies, but she's seen too many people killed in their name to be quiet about it.
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Yuta/Ishigori has to be a thing, but I've surprisingly never seen any fanwork for it.
is ishigori just not very popular? I can see that since the first time I read through the Culling Game arc I was mostly indifferent to the new characters. But upon rereading it, he's one of the ones I actually quite like.
Higuruma is my #1 of course. Loved him the moment we met him.
Kashimo is shockingly popular imo. And Hakari did place right under him in the last jp popularity poll... 18th and 19th respectively. So, I guess their fight was really well received... Actually, among the new characters, they placed the highest. (I mean, I know we knew of Hakari before, but I'm counting him as "new" since we only met him once the Culling Game began.)
Higuruma placed 20th btw.
Takaba is 31st.
Ishigori at a whopping 40th place.
Hana is 42nd.
Rokujushi Miyo at 43rd, then Kirara at 44th. Only 1 vote difference between them. Miyo is the sumo guy. I had to look him up because I didn't remember his name.
Allll the way at 57th we got Hagane Daido (the katana guy) and Uro with 13 votes each.
Reggie Star, Gorilla, and Kogane at 62nd place with 10 votes each... Reggie... I mean, sure I didn't like him, but he's not a bad character. His line about jujutsushi being con artists is one that's constantly brought up in the fandom, and one I personally think about too. The fact that he shares a place with Panda's imaginary brother who only showed up in one chapter and Kogane, the Culling Game's UI, is pretty sad. Lol. Not that Kogane isn't kind of cute, but...
Kurourushi (the cockroach curse *shudder*) is 66th with 9 votes.
ANGEL is somehow lower than that at 69th with 7 votes. (I don't understand jp fandom sometimes. HOW was the ROACH higher than Angel?)
Charles Bernard and Iori Hazenoki at 74th with 6 votes each. Kinda surprised about Hazenoki, tbh. Thought he had the kind of pretty boyish design that'd make him popular. Maybe his cursed technique is too offputting?
Remi at 78th. Deserved, but still a little surprising. She's cute looking.
YOROZU IS 84TH!!!! That's absolutely wild. I guess JJK fans like batshit women a lot less than in other fandoms??? I don't know! She just seems like the type of character that would be a lot more popular than is reflected in the popularity poll. Maybe it's because Megumi is consistently #1 in popularity? So people who like Megumi dislike Yorozu???
Or maybe it has to do with the timing of the poll... Let's see... The voting period ran from March 3rd to March 20th. Yorozu showed on January 28th and her last appearance before voting ended was in chapter 217 when her fight with Sukuna began, March 19th...
Honestly, that's probably where her last-minute votes even came from. So, yea, if given enough time to cook, I have to believe she'd be higher ranked. I mean, I don't even like Yorozu that much! But she feels totally misplaced!
A lot of the newer characters haven't reached the popularity of the older ones huh. Like, I think Ino (27th), Yaga (39th), Riko (47th) are fine, but I would've expected their places to lower more to make room for the newer characters. Then we've got, freaking Jinichi Zen'in at 46th. Or White Jade Dog at 49th! YUJI'S MOVIE TRAINING TEDDY IS AT 51ST!!!
Anyway, some of these new characters are super underappreciated. lol.
You can see the full popularity polls results here btw:
#just rambling about popularity of the newer characters#let's try to be more bloggy shall we#ryu ishigori#yuta okkotsu#jujutsu kaisen#jjk manga#manga panels#jjk spoilers#my jjk#jjk meta
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Random question: what would happen if Marcy introduced to World Hoppers to the concept of Cosplay/Roleplaying? Who would dress up as who? Would they dress up as each other or people from old stories, like Barrel the Brave(I feel like Polly would like him)?
I've been sitting on this for about a week and unfortunately I don't think I really have a good answer for you :/ Wrong past me. Anyways, were.
Ivy: Man this answer is so different by the end of season, but for now: Ivy is probably the most resistant to the concept. She'd been dressed up by her mom as something she's not enough times to be wary of cosplay in general. However I think she finds a old portrait of her mom in her adventuring days and asks for Marcy's help replicating it.
Maddie: The Witch Queen Belda. A frog from early in Andrias's reign, who is basically amphibia's version of the Baba Yaga. She is a folk tale figure. In many a story, Belda often enables the mistakes of others. Giving them potions and curses that often the catalyst for the plot, for ill or aid. However what has largely been lost/purposefully purged from the annals, is she was also a real person. In the second century of Andrias's reign, Belda was the leader of a cabal of witches dedicated to fighting against the witch hunts. She is probably the closest anyone came to killing Andrias prior to start of story.
(Cant find the original artist for this one, which is a shame cause it is basically perfect)
Sprig, Polly, & Marcy: So Marcy mentions the concept of group cosplay and Sprig absolutely insists on doing one with Marcy. Marcy is on board since its not like Anne or Sasha ever had much of an interest in Cosplay after they stopped trick or treating (well treating, anyways, halloween became a night of tricks and pranks after 5th grade for the girls). Polly insists on joining, not wanting to be left out.
Ultimately they decide to roleplay as their respective characters from the first Vagabondia chronicles game. Sprig as Elowen, Polly as the big fluffy Toma and Marcy playing Petyr.
If this was an episode of the show there would probably be a bit where Maddie and Ivy are looking down at the picture of the character art then back at the Plantar kids cosplay at just the absurdity of differences
While ultimately I ended up disagreeing about Polly and Barrel, I do want to say when I first wrote this response I did agree. I think Barrel is one of the few figures in Amphibia who is respected across species lines. The Toads celebrate him for his strength. The newts for his service and loyalty. And the Frogs for protecting the common folk.
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So I know you’ve said you don’t have what the gfs look like, but in your mind do they have certain styles. Do they match their bfs style or counter it?
ooohh, interesting...
i'll leave my Thoughts under a cut... not only because it's long, but also just in case someone doesn't want to have this influence the mental images they might have of them.
I think Pretty likes to dress up a bit more than Chris does, but they're not too different. like, she can be both Aphrodite incarnate and a gremlin that's just coming out of the depths depending on the mood. just like Chris, probably lol. when not at work, she's one to wear crop-tops and sundresses, and form fitting clothes that highlight her figure (although she wears a lot of over-sized hoodies, courtesy of her boyfriend). this woman has spent years trying to find the cuts that just make her Look Good and it shows. but regardless, she and Chris just Match. whenever they're together they just Match and it's really cute. they don't even do it on purpose.
Kitten i see as a very Professional Looking person. lots of blouses and skirts and dress clothes in general. even when she's wearing jeans she manages to make them look Classy. if that makes sense? whereas Minho is more simplistic. a t-shirt and jeans is all he needs (and jeans is him Dressing Up... otherwise it's just joggers).
Spicy gingerbread is interesting because... it probably took her a while to find a style that she feels represents her (since i'm pretty confident her ex-bf just dressed her up however he wanted). outside of work, i think she'd be a woman of t-shirts and jeans and trainers. she likes to be practical. Changbin is pretty similar, practical, but likes to look Well Dressed regardless... kind of like Pretty Mum. i'm sure he looks delicious regardless of what he wears.
Moss just plays with gender. you don't know if she's gonna appear with a flawless face of makeup, wearing a low cut dress that show off her big naturals, or if she's going to appear wearing the most confusing outfit you'd ever seen. leather jackets and ripped jeans are common items they wear regardless. constantly playing with being masc and femme, and i respect them for that. Hyunjin's got two moods: looking expensive or looking like An Artist... like he just came out of the studio, in overalls and covered in paint... will start playing with gender more, too, at some point... expect skirts and dresses. Felix is practical like Changbin's girlfriend. the most he'd do is wear a crop-top or a leather jacket every once in a while if he feels like it... seeing this throuple out in the wild can be one or two things: the hottest looking trio you'd ever seen, serving Looks and Gender; or a mismatched mess that somehow works together very well.
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Hey, tell me about your interest in fashion. For me it's just silly little projects that I don't get, but I respect it and I want to know the perspective of a person who is interested. I'm genuine. And what should a regular person get from those. How to analyse it for everyday fashion? Or is it a form of art that should be treated as one, and has nothing to do in regular everyday fashion? I have a friend who studied fashion design but I never get to ask him/never thought about it. 😌☺️
Honestly, I don't know a lot about fashion in a technical sense myself. Fashion can be a broad spectrum, as it does refer to popular trends, but I'll talk about clothing here.
In reality, I just like to look at the clothes and think about them, but when I was younger and even now I watched a lot of videos and shows about designing clothes and their construction. I find it to be quite fascinating, and I enjoy seeing the process and the completed pieces. I consider it to be a form of artistic expression, although most clothing I've ever made was for dolls. There's a lot that goes into the craft, and I've seen some people that take months to meticulously complete a piece and I've seen others just wake up and decide to make a dress that day.
When I look at clothes it's more about what I think looks interesting or fits into my aesthetic preferences, though I do find that I see some clothing from time to time and immediately associate it with a character, like many people on here.
(A bit off topic, but the character I tag most under fashion posts is Amu from Zyuohger. This is because she canonically does modelling work and I think she'd dress very fashionably. Everything I tag for her has a specific reason I feel it would fit her. )
Anyways I feel like fashion, just like any other art form, can be analyzed in a variety of different ways. Construction, color stories, patterns, textures, pricing, label, accessories, makeup, hair, etc. can all come together to create a piece, not so different from say a drawing. I like to ask myself why I think certain decisions were made and for what purpose. How could different decisions change the affect of the piece? If we're talking about designers and labels, how do we know on sight that it's their design? For example, Vivienne Westwood and Moschino can't be mistaken for each other as they have their own signatures.
There's a lot more questions to be asked, especially if you get into areas of costuming where many pieces are meant to convey something about a character. An example would be of the mantle that Gira wears in King-Ohger. In King-Ohger the mantle is symbolic of the King of Shugoddam, and when Gira rips it off of Racules and dons it himself, it is symbolic of Gira's intentions to take Racules' title and throne just as he declares. Post-time skip, when Gira decides to hand the throne to Douga he removes the mantle and hands it over to Douga, showing us that Gira does consider it to be a symbol of his title at this time. I could really go on to speak more on each character's costuming and elaborate more on Gira but I've already rambled a lot.
#i have many thoughts on things#umbrella.asks#answered.sastheforestspirit#subject.misc#umbrella.posts
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