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steddiewithachance · 4 months

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I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff

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leonidasbratini · 1 year

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#shopping #online #store #busines #small business

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akimatax · 2 years

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(via Unicorn and his dream car Sticker by Akimatax ✯✯✯✯✯)

#findyourthing #redbubble #unicorn #unicorn store #unicorn sticker #stickers #stickersforsale #halloween accessories #halloween shopping #halloween glitter sticker #stickerart #sticker shop #small busines #Halloween stickers #sticker sheet #illustration

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orion4ever · 7 months

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Author's Note: I was inspired by a recent post of mine about Cliff's protective nature towards MC and how he reacts when Baxter and MC reunite and get back together. I believe Cove keeps Cliff updated on EVERYTHING!

This would take place after the events of the Baxter DLC, The timing is up to you!

Pairing: Baxter Ward x MC

Cliff Holden was currently unboxing some new shipments When he heard the store's front doorbell ring a few times.

He emerged from the backroom to see his son and his group of friends. He instantly had a huge grin on his face as he welcomed them.

"Hey, Bud." He greeted nonchalantly, earning a small 'Hey' from his son.

"Oh! Hello, Terry and Miranda! It's always nice seeing you two" he greeted warmly, earning himself an enthusiastic "Heeyyyyy!" from Terry and a small wave from Miranda.

"And of course, MC and-" he paused when he saw the new face standing next to MC with a sheepish smile. He looked familiar but he couldn't put a name to the face.

"Oh! Hey! It's always nice seeing a new face, I am Cliff" he greeted with a grin.

The 'stranger' smile grows a little. "Hello. We've already met before...I was staying in the condo next to yours five years ago..?" The black-haired man said. "Baxter Ward?" He added.

Cliff deflated for a minute. He had remembered, now that Baxter hiked his memory. Cove had updated Cliff on the entire series of events about Baxter and MC.

He was told how the eccentric monochromatic tourist had gotten together with his long-term neighbor and son's best friend.

He was also told about how the same eccentric monochromatic tourist had dumped MC at the end of the summer and vowed to never see them again.

Baxter had always been very neighborly and amiable towards Mr. Holden himself, always greeting him and giving tidbits about his plans for the day.

But...

He couldn't forget how heartbroken MC was over the breakup. It always seemed like they had some unheeded feelings that will most likely never be addressed or explained; leaving MC confused and sad over it all.

Like Noelani and Pamela’s first reaction to the reappearance of Baxter; His excitement melted in the California heat.

“Oh.” Cliff mumbled.

He then walked to stand behind the register took out a long box and continued to talk with everyone.

“So , What brings you back in town, Baxter?”

“Well.-“ Baxter was then promptly interrupted by the sound of a box opening and a metal clanking sound hitting the counter.

Cliff casually unboxed a box of fishing harpoons while staring right at Baxter.

“Well, we wanted to visit the shopping district again to relax.” Baxter finished , he had his usual grin but it looked a tiny bit wobbly.

“Uh-huh,” Cliff said, placing another fishing harpoon on the table casually again. “Ignore me. These are new shipments.” Cliff reiterated, with a slightly forced smile.

Not wanting to stay in this awkward and slightly threatening silence, MC speaks up.

“Mr. Holden , me and Baxter are back together; don’t be too hard on him” they said both in a jokey and genuine sense.

Cliff chuckled a little. “I won’t , don’t worry!” He smiled , shining the threatening harpoons.

Miranda giggled a little , either out of nervousness or whatever was going on. Terry being the social butterfly he is bounced right back.

“B-man invited everyone to lunch so we gotta head out soon!” He stated , giving Baxter a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah. We just wanted to stop by , Dad” Cove said with a smile. Cliff nodded to that. “I appreciate you for thinking about your old man, Cove.”

“Your not old , Mr.Holden. Your only like 49.”

“Pfft-, 49?!? MC. I promise ,I am not that old” he cackled lightheartedly. Before he started waving the group off. “You kids go on now, You don’t have to stay to keep me company.”

As they all began exiting , he stopped Baxter. “Uh , Baxter. A word?” He asked , a serious tone in his voice.

Baxter didn’t say anything but he did move to properly look at the older gentleman. He had a abased frown.

“I don’t want any funny business with you,” Cliff said, crossing his arms. “MC has been a massive support to both Cove and myself for a long time. It would be sad to see them be heartbroken again.” He continued, he wasn’t joking around.

Baxter Ward stood up straighter and said. “Mr. Holden. I assure you that this time, I am here to stay.” He said, putting a pale hand to his purple button-up.

“I understand your concern. I haven’t made a good impression by doing that years ago. I am sorry for that. I truly do care for MC and I want to be with them.”

He finished it off with a slight bow of his head.

Cliff unfolded his arms and gave Baxter’s shoulder a strong but not painful squeeze. “Good. I hope we can become good friends then.”

Cliff then let Baxter go to join the rest of the group with a small hopeful smile.

#olba #our life beginnings & always #olba baxter #baxter ward #fanfic #our life beginning & always Baxter #olba mc #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x mc #olba cliff #cliff holden #gb patch #cliff casually threatens Baxter with a harpoon #casual protective behavior #fr #☺️#orion fic

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xtom-darling-x17 · 2 years

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Tom and y/n have broken up it’s been 2 weeks now and one day she’s out with her toddler sister or niece and paparazzi swam her asking questions. She gets overwhelmed by it and tries to tell them to back up whilst covering her sisters or nieces face but they don’t listen. Luckily Tom came to the rescue and maybe they go to his house and get back together?

Thanks love your work xx

Full Of Surprises

Pairing - Tom Holland x Reader

Summary - You and Tom thought it was the best to break things off, but that wasn’t the case.

Warnings - Angst and sadness, overwhelmed! (Paparazzi not understanding boundaries)

A/N - Thank you for your request, much love and appreciation to the support. I’m glad you like my works, it’s nice for you to say. Hope you enjoy! 🥰

“Out, going out,” Your 2 year old toddler of a sister pointed to the door, with a dorky smile. She had her duckie, wellies and rain coat on to jump into the puddles.

It has been raining in England, London at the moment but nothing will stop you and your sister going out.

“Yes, baby” You nod, getting your umbrella, you already had your rain coat on too, “Come let’s go,” You smile opening the door.

S/N came following right behind, locking the door up and off you went. You loved the weekends because in this time you had your sister sometimes.

“Are we gonna see the duckies?” S/N pouts, holding your hand with her little fingers.

“Yes of course, they are along the way,” You explained to the toddler, “up, up”

You chuckled, leaving the pushchair at home today because you don’t mind carrying her.

“As you wish,” You giggle, lifting S/N up onto your hip. You walk to town not thinking anything of it.

You go to the park, then the lake and even all different kind of shops to keep S/N entertained. Finding it amusing how she reacts to things at such a young age, definitely not understanding.

“Oh, wa!!” S/N gasped, “There pretty ring, for Tommy,” She giggled telling you, clapping her hands.

You was looking at a jewellery shop In the town, not thinking much of it until S/N said something about Tom.

It’s been two weeks since you had broke up, it was honestly a mess if your being honest. It hurt you but you have to move on in life for yourself and your sister.

“Baby, me and Tommy not together anymore, remember?” You hugged her as she sighed, she didn’t understand nor did liked that because she actually got attached to him.

“Pretty ring, for Tommy,” S/N whines playfully, folding her little arms up. She shook her head, “I know baby, I know but how about another duckie stuffie?” You smile trying to change to the subject.

S/N quickly agreed, giggling as you moved long to look at other shops. It was fascinating for S/N to see all the pretty colours of toys and clothing.

Now in the toy section, you came across lots of fluffy, animals.

“Duck, duck!” S/N pointed, smiling picking up the duck, “My Duckie!” Cuddling it like it could waddle away from her.

“Good job, baby,” You smile, “Let’s go pay for it, we can get some lunch after too!”

S/N nodded skipping along with her Duckie in her small, little hands to the till.

As you walk along the path to find a nice cafe, your eyes widen to see paparazzi.

You thought that maybe, they would back off now that you and Tom ended things but looks like they other plans to make your life more difficult.

You gulped as they came closer, S/N of course didn’t understand as she hugged her duckie tighter to protect it.

“S/N try to be quite baby and keep your face covered with my jacket,” You said clearly for S/N listen, she nodded as you picked her up.

Surprisingly, you think she is too tired to ask why. You take a deep breath as you walk through people flashing cameras.

“Guys, again? Really, can you please move away from me,” You asked, trying to stay calm as you walk.

“Y/N this way, look this way! Is it true you and Tom broke up?” One person asked snapping a picture of you, ignoring your words completely.

“Im not asking any questions because that information is my business not yours!” You firmly stated, pushing your way through crowds of cameras.

You tried to cover your sisters face more so that they don’t have a picture and the flash in her eyes, the poor thing.

“You and Tom looked good together, Y/N!” One of them shouted, you being overwhelmed by all the paps taking pictures.

Of course right now, how are you going to get out of this situation.

“Please, move away!” You slightly, whimpered not enough for them to noticed, “I just want to go home,” you whispered.

However, the paps are still asking questions, cameras in your face and coming closer to you and S/N too.

Tom made his way to town, wanting to get away from life as an actor and go shopping. Unfortunately, things took a few turns and here he is gasping at the sight in front of him.

He saw paps all over someone, but then he recognises that someone must be you because of hearing all the questions they are shouting out.

“Excuse me, coming through,” Tom rushed to get to you, paps quickly asking questions and taking pictures of Tom too.

“Hey, Tom!” a pap shouted, asking another question. Normally, Tom would respond and be more polite but not at a time like this. Not when they are being so rude to you and your sister, making you feel small.

Tom has thought a long process of his emotions, coming to a conclusion that he loves and cares for you, only you. He wants to make everything right between you again, if you let him.

He knows he wasn’t the best the last couple of months of your relationship but he is willing to try to make it right. He hopes you are going to trust him again. He wants to help you in this moment too!

You hold S/N tighter seeing as she’s whimpering as she don’t like people shouting and crowding her. Not noticing that Tom is pushing through the crowd to help you.

Until you hear his voice, your heart beats again and you let out a breath of fresh air.

“Hey, Darlings,” Tom whispers, “It’s going to be ok, look at me not at them,” Tom rubs your hand, “Do you want me to take S/N?” He asked.

You nodded, giving him S/N. “Tommy, I’m scared,” S/N gasped as she clenched onto Tom now, “I know, baby but going to get of here,” he rubbed her back, holding her tightly as he held your hand.

“Guys, back up honestly! Give us space, your being really disrespectful to Y/N and S/N,” Tom shouted over the voices to the paps, all of let out a grumble.. slightly moving away from you, Tom and S/N.

Not completely going away but enough to breathe.

“Breath, Darling,” Tom whispers into your ear, “I know, it’s hard but we have nearly lost them,”

“My car is just down the road,” Tom mumbles to you, he whispers sweet nothings to you and S/N to calm you both down.

Less paps follow you as you come out of the town and down to the car park, where Tom’s car is. Tom is furious at the paparazzi doing this to you but didn’t want to make more commotion, just wanted you safe with S/N.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Tom hushes, S/N as he put her in the car seat in his car. Since he never took it out, which is really good in this moment.

You and Tom get in the car, he starts to drive.

“Didn’t except to see you again but thank you for saving us,” You shyly said, sighing as your in his warm car.

“Anytime, Darling! I know, I’m sorry. And Do you want to go back to mine? Just for a while, I could cook you and S/N something to eat,” Tom suggest, looking at you as he stops at a red light.

“Thanks, that would be lovely. I’m sorry too,” You quietly said smiling back.

“As I was saying, I’m sorry. I want to protect and care for you,” Tom sincerely expressed, you nodded seeing that he has turned up into his drive way.

You took S/N out seeing that she actually fallen asleep, picking her up gently. You follow Tom into his house.

“Do you want to change?” Tom wonders slipping his shoes and coat off, “Your soaking!” He frowned.

“I don’t have any clothes thou but my sisters, ofc,” You sigh, your sister still in your arms asleep.

“You can wear mine, if you don’t mind? Love,” Tom smiles, “I’ll watch S/N, while you change,”

“ok, if your sure?” Your heart skipped a beat after Tom is being so kind and calling you Love.

“Yes,” You nod going upstairs with him, he gave you clothes and you gave him S/N.

Tom lays S/N on the sofa with a pillow and a blanket as she sleeps.

You change into Tom’s Shirt and Joggers.

“I’ve changed,” You mumble, sitting down on the sofa next to Tom.

“Are you ok? Love,” Tom frowns, as you hold head into your hands. You lean into Tom’s side with without any explanation, just sighing.

“I need to say this from my heart, I know you had a rough day and I’m very sorry for that because you don’t deserve it,” Tom rubbed your hand, “You make me feel things that I never feel and I’m deeply sorry that my job got in the way of our relationship, it shouldn’t! I knew I needed to make more time for you because I love and care for you, Y/N! So fucking much Darling,”

You put your head up looking into his eyes smiling eye to eye as Tom looks for an answer in you. Tom gets his answer as you smash your lips together with him, finally getting the chance to be confidence.

“Tom, it’s not just your fault, Ok? I was busy as well, I love and care about you so much, Tommy,” You give him a pure look from your eyes to his honey, warm brown eyes, “You are amazing as like you proved today, without you those paps wouldn’t of left myself and S/N alone,”

Tom nodded, smiling as he took a hand into your hair and pulled you in for another kiss. “Will you do me the honour of being my girlfriend again, Y/N?” He whispers, you come closer teasing him just a bit more.

“Do you think? I should really be your girlfriend, Tommy,” You smirked, knowing that you definitely want to.

“Yes, by the look on your face, Darling,” Tom teases you this time.

“Then, it’s a Yes,” You kiss his cheek, Tom pulls you in for another kiss full of passion.

“Do you want something to eat? You must be hungry,” Tom smiles, kissing you. He can’t get enough.

“Yes, actually. S/N should eat too but she’s a sleep and she needs it,” You giggle.

Taking Tom’s hand to the kitchen. He does a cute giggle back matching your vibe.

Later in the afternoon, S/N rubs her little eyes, as she yawned waking up from her slumber. Looking to her left she saw Tom and you snuggling under a blanket watching a movie.

S/N sits up going down on the floor to the sofa opposite her, where you and Tom are cuddled up.

“Tommy, Y/N/N,” She squeals, jumping in between you two.

“Hi,” You smile, “hello, sweetheart,” Tom speaks as she turns around to him.

“Tommy,” S/N shouts, “missed you,” Having her small, little arms around him.

“You missed Tom more than me,” You teased, “She definitely, does darling,” he smirked.

“I like both of you,” S/N put her hands up, really high.

“That’s good, baby,”

“You and Tommy together,” In her cute, baby voice pouting to you.

Before you could say anything, “Yes, Baby,” Tom nodded, you let out a laugh as S/N shouts a yay.

You got S/N changed and fed before you continued to relax with her and Tom.

🧋

“S/N asleep,” You whisper, climbing into Tom’s Bed, “I didn’t think I was going to stay the night,”

“Surprises can happen, Darling,” Tom smiles, taking in your scent as he wraps the covers around you.

“Let me take you for dinner in Paris,” Tom smirks, kissing you on the cheek.

“Mm, next week?” he suggests, “Yes, of course,” You giggle kissing his lips passionately.

“Your full of surprises, Tommy,” You smile taking in his beauty, “Let’s make this work because I need you,”

“Agreed, Sweetheart!”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fandom #tomhollandfan #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #lovers #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff

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d20owlbear · 10 months

Text

Angel Cupcakes and Baskerville Corso

"Chiffon!" Aziraphale shouted, worried up to his ears and chasing after the cream-colored Tibetan Spaniel dragging her sparkling leash behind her. She pranced ahead just barely out of reach underneath the feet of unwatchfull by-passers.

She didn't bark back at him, but she did look over her shoulder at him once or twice, as if to ask what the problem was, only to ignore all his recall commands and wind his anxiety up higher and higher as she got closer to the street's crossing corner. He had no idea just what had gotten into her these days and he felt just about ready to cry about it!

Not just a week ago, she'd gone missing for hours on end only to show back up wet and slimy and covered in grass stains looking like she'd had a grand ol' time only seconds before he'd been about to call Madame Tracy in a worked up fit. Then, nearly every day this week she'd disappear from his bookstore at some point for thirty minutes here, an hour or so there, only to come back fit as a fiddle and disgustingly wet.

"Chiffon, you stop right there missy!" Aziraphale shouted again, gearing himself up for a final sprint, terrified she'd try to cross the street. It wasn't overly busy, but cars still occasionally sped through and they certainly weren't watching for little dogs all the way out here in Soho!

"No you don't, cupcake." An alluringly hoarse voice resonated in Aziraphale's head as someone all dressed in black from head to toe scooped up his dear little Chiffon like a seasoned pro. She didn't even bark, the traitor!

"Excus-" Aziraphale wheezed, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the absolutely oppressive-looking creature the man had at his side that Aziraphale hesitated to call a dog at all. It looked like the sort of dog a man who had enemies might have, though one that didn't want to admit it by getting a more classically intimidating rottweiler or doberman...

"Excuse me... sir." He forced out at last, standing straight and pulling down his vest to tidy his appearance as best he could, as if the man hadn't clear as day seen him huffing and puffing up the street with the way his eyebrow went up past the rims of those dark-as-night sunglasses.

"Anything you like, angel." The man replied, leaning his hip into the creat- the dog as his side– Aziraphale noticed the dog leaned back and nudged the man's free hand sloppily until it rest on the dog's head, very delicately petting its face and head. The slightest tremor Aziraphale'd not noticed before stopped the moment the dog did so. He was so fascinated by the interaction he'd almost not realized what the man himself had said.

"I- wh- you-" At that moment, Chiffon chose that point to wag her traitor little tail and bark right in the man's face, making his easy grin (which Aziraphale secretly quite liked the look of) freeze a little. But then the man stiffly held out the small, fluffy dog to Aziraphale and his smile returned to normal in the blink of an eye, so it was almost like he'd imagined it.

"Cupcake's yours, right?" He grinned wider and kneeled down to throw a lazy arm around the beast beside him as if they were the best mates in the world. "She's been popping up in my shop down the street, you know, took a liking to Baskerville over here somehow."

Aziraphale quickly took Chiffon back into his arms and curled her into the biggest hug right up against his neck so he could half-bury his face in her little lion's mane ruff. "Yes, thank- thank you so much, I was so worried!"

The man's smile widened again and he braced a hand on one knee to leverage himself up, and the dog- Baskerville (what a delightful name, Aziraphale was far too charmed already by this mysterious man dressed all in black with a welcoming smile and a voice like melted chocolate even before he found out his naming sense was on point) stood very close and very still as if he were bracing for the man as well in the maneuver.

"My name's Crowley," he said, and produced a simple little business card out of nowhere between two of his fingers and handed it over to Aziraphale. His cheeks had the gall to blush about it, he would have words with them later about embarrassing him in front of fine gentlemen and their gentle beasts of dogs. "You can find me in the café down the street's called Edine." Except when he said it, it sounded a lot like Eden...

" 'S dog-friendly, of course. We make dog-safe foods and drink too, if you'd like to bring Cupcake." Crowley continued, rambling a little now, one of his hands came up to gesticulate and his voice wavered a little on the last line. Baskerville flopped Crowley's hand onto his head again, and Crowley took a deep, subtle breath, smiling again. "This guy's the mascot, helps takes orders, though he sleeps on the job plenty. Awful employee really."

"I'm sure." Aziraphale smiled gently, eyes sparkling. "I'm Aziraphale, Aziraphale Fell. I run the bookstore down that-a-ways... and this is Chiffon." Aziraphale bounced his arms and Chiffon panted happily with a doggy grin for good measure. "We'd love to come by. How late are you open 'till?"

"I dunno, how late're you gonna come?" Crowley practically tripped over his words and Aziraphale laughed at himself for thinking he was suave and mysterious rather than delightfully adorable and entirely too endearing for Aziraphale's own good, oh he could already feel that weightless feeling at the bottom of his stomach, like he'd just stepped off the edge of a cloud and he was 0.5 seconds from free fall.

"Is 7 alright?"

"7's great." Crowley grinned, toothy and with an endearing little snaggle-tooth right at the edge of it that caught his lip just right so it looked a bit like a fang. Oh, there it was. That pesky free fall. He was utterly charmed.

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deadboyfriendd · 1 year

Text

𝙎𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙥𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙩

Summary: Your hometown bar brings out the worst in people. The small-town sleaze creates a film on your skin like grime. The smoke that fills the bar in a thick wall blinds you. You figured this is why you have break Steve's heart. You are still in love with Eddie Munson.

Warnings: At leas seventeen well-placed "fucks". Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, brief Steve Harrington X Reader, Smoking, alcohol, bar fights, angst, breakups, unprotected p in v, smut, dacryphilia if you squint.

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 7.3k

Author's Note: This is literally written about my favorite bar in my home town.

This was a ridiculous existence. You knew that much. This was not who you were, and it was not someone you’d ever have hoped to be. You looked in the mirror and felt dirty - not because of the sticky grenadine residue leftover from your shift at Hawkins’ residential hole-in-the-wall. You felt the small-town sleaze build a film on your skin, and you ran your hands across your shoulders in an attempt to feel your own body beneath it.

It had been six months since your split with Eddie Munson. You’re not quite sure what had happened, the four-year ride of your life coming to a halt and curbing you with tires screeching. You were the girl who kicked Eddie’s heart in the ass. You were the girl who wouldn't stick around and wait for fame. You were the bitch. You hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but you couldn’t keep hurting yourself.

It had been three months since you started seeing Steve Harrington on the down-low. You hadn’t planned for it to be like this. Steve was nice. Really nice. He was sweet to you, molasses sweet. Saccharine sweet. He was soft around the edges. He listened when you spoke, and brought your coffee to your bedside table in the morning. Steve was there. He was available where Eddie wasn’t.

Steve was what Eddie wasn’t.

Your relationship with Eddie had been a four-year whirlwind most girls read about in hushed whispers. The ones they kept in their bedside tables and read about by late-night lamp-light. You had spent the better part of it hanging out the window of the van, or perched atop one of the large speakers at any given show. He was sweet- worshiped the ground you walked on sweet. He burned love proclamations in your front yard and held you under his arm at shows. He strummed even louder love songs outside of your window at ungodly hours of the night- whenever he thought up a song about you. He was all of the best parts of your youth and the only parts of adulthood that you had ever known. Loving Eddie was loud in all of the best ways.

It all started to crumble when Corroded Coffin began to catch traction in the Indiana underground metal scene. Between amateur tours and recording sessions, Eddie didn’t have time for a college girl anymore. He didn’t have time for your dream, and you would be damned if you would have to give yourself up for that. He knew you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t force you to.

But Steve was nice. And Steve was available. And Steve was domestic.

You didn’t know if you loved Steve yet. You didn’t know you loved Eddie until he was in the next city playing a song he wrote about you to another girl sitting on a barstool against another skeevy bar. Steve was soft. He held your hand when he took you shopping. He pulled out your chair when he took you to lunch. He opened doors for you. He tucked your hair behind your ear and spoke beautiful, soft words into your ears. Liking Steve was a tenderness that you had never known.

And your favorite part about him was that he wasn’t Eddie.

The bar that you inhabited was the only one in Hawkins’ historic district, frequented by skeeves, the blue collar brigade, and your ex-boyfriend’s band. Also the occasional Steve Harrington. Being the resident young woman that worked behind the bar, it was not abnormal to be thoroughly disgusted several times a night. Though, the tips were good and your regulars usually took care of business on your behalf now that Eddie was no longer there, unofficially bouncing for you.

The neon lights hummed a backtrack for tonight, drowned to near-silence by the thunk of thick-walled glass hitting the resin-coated bartop and the occasional shout or whistle. The static basso of Marty Robbins’ El Paso reverberated off of the paneling of the walls. The bar was narrow, with barely enough leeway to walk behind the smattering of peeling stools. A decaying wrought-iron stairwell led to a balcony which overlooked the slightly-raised stage, off-balance snooker tables cleared to make enough space. The bar was set beneath the side-walk level, at basement-depth. Years of asphalt and changing city regulations burying it enough to deter the college Thanksgiving-and-Christmas crowd unless their lineage had fought in the bar in the years prior.

The patrons that frequented your dwelling were a fitting crowd. When the smoke billowed away from the hand-rolled cigarettes and cast a fog towards the ceiling, you could see the rough and dirty faces there to decompress from a day’s worth of underpaid, undermined labor. This was a place for those who were rough around the edges- and not that you weren’t- but this was, in the words of your former flame, “not the place for a girl like you.”

And it was certainly not the place for boys like Steve Harrington.

He illuminated this place like a light, yellow sweater a stark contrast to the deep burgundy tones of the bartop. He clutched a luke-warm bottle between his fingers as he watched you work, insisting that he keep you company despite having worked here for nearly two years.

“You really don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, babe.” You reassured him, counting out the stack of ones from the man beside him and removing what he’d owed from the last round.

“Who said I didn’t want to stay?” Steve had asked you, brow raised.

“Your face.” You said, rolling an eye before making another round to the end of the long bar.

It was uncharacteristically steady for a weeknight, not that you minded. Your regulars strung an endearing chorus of sweethearts and beers you had in-hand before they even had a chance to ask. It was this work that was paying for your ticket out of here - not that you had particularly minded this job either. You liked the attention. You liked feeling wanted, even if it was from men with wives that were twice your age. The pet names that they called you filled you with an instant warmth that you hadn’t been able to find in a while, especially

“Sweetheart.”

It made you turn where you stood. Pushing between two men into an empty stool, Eddie sat, the neck of his bottle clutched delicately between two fingers. You felt disgusted by the warmth that filled your chest. It made you feel everything all at once. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you stared at him like a lobotomized housewife, the mashed potato pink-matter of the remnants of your frontal lobe struggling to fire off any sort of electricity to generate any words towards him.

“Since when do you flat iron your hair?” He asked, pulling you out of your fog. The clinking of cups and the hum from the neon lights nearly drowned him out. You reached up to touch your hair, making sure it was, in fact, still flat ironed.

“Since now?” You deadpanned. You remember how you felt when Steve told you that you looked nice with it flat-ironed. It wasn’t a big deal. You liked when he liked how you looked. You couldn’t help when your eyes fluttered over to where he sat at the opposite end of the bar, golden smile on his pretty face. It dropped quickly when his eyes followed your own troubled gaze to meet Eddie’s in a sick fucking triangle.

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie started, jaw hardening as he met Steve’s gaze. Steve sighed, getting up to meet you at the other end. His tone was stone cold, hard like granite. His eyes were searing.

“Eddie, please-” You begged. You could handle him any other time, you could deal with the accusations and the heartbreak, but you couldn’t deal with it now.

“Steve fucking Harrington?” He said it with vinegar. He wielded it like a weapon against you.

“C’mon man just-” Steve started, seeing the pleading look in your eyes.

“I see Harrington’s really got a grip on you now, huh?” Steve and Eddie were both standing now, as were a few of the other men surrounding them.

“Steve doesn’t have anything to do with this.” You said, sending your boyfriend another pleading look. This one begged him to just go away, but he couldn’t read that. He just recognized it as help.

“That’s not you. That never was you.” Eddie said through gritted teeth, reaching over the bad to point an accusatory finger at you. You could hear his bracelet ringing against the chains on his jacket. Steve put a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him back from the counter.

“Get your fucking hands off of me. You’re really fucking Ste-” He continued, yet Steve persisted.

You couldn’t react fast enough, though you tried your hardest. When Eddie’s ringed fist connected with Steve’s face with a crack, you were over the bar in an instant, screaming profanities at both men. The two scuffled backwards for a few seconds as the two other men besides them struggled to pull them apart. One held Eddie like a drowned cat while he still attempted to make ugly swings at Steve, your own hands coming up to make contact with Eddie’s chest. It wasn’t until you were this close that you could smell the liquor on him. He had come in drunk. A calloused hand met your waist, pulling you back from Eddie.

“Sweetheart, back off of him. We’ve got it.” The man said to you. You recognized him as a regular, yet you were too angry to sift through your rolodex of names that you kept memorized. You buried your face in your hands, pulling your skin back at the temples softly.

“I’m gonna call his uncle. Hopper doesn’t need this shit tonight.” You announced to whoever would listen, and started towards the phone.

You were able to have one of the other girls come in and cover you for the night. You made a mental note to leave half of your night’s cash-out in an envelope with her name on it as a thank you for dealing with your boyfriend bullshit for you.

The night was chilled for this time of year, that first off-night after the sticky Indiana summer wreaked havoc on the city and its inhabitants- just before you could remember the bite of last year’s cold front. The world still flashed its summer colors, yet didn’t retain the miserable heat that stuck to your skin and made you uncomfortable.

Steve sat on the raised flower bed outside of the bar, face swollen and blood staining his yellow sweater. You knew it was his and not Eddie’s. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest for Steve.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked you as you approached him, zipping the last of your tips into the peeling leather of your old purse.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, reaching out to hold his jaw, tenderly. He sported a nice little gash along his eyebrow which had swelled downward over his brow bone and into the socket itself - which was already beginning to discolor.

“Baby, I’m fine.” He assured you, though the soft hiss he released when you reached out to inspect it said otherwise.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, pulling the towel you used to clean your glasses, a bandaid, and your water bottle out of your purse in an attempt to doctor him outside of the bar just enough to get him home. He whined and hissed when you pulled at the skin, attempting to scrub away some of the dried blood with the pathetic towel. Even the overhead light from the beamer was unable to do much in cleaning him. You didn’t even use the band-aid.

“That guy’s a real piece of work, huh?” He asked from the passenger seat of his car, after you insisted that you drive him back home after his episode tonight.

“He has the capacity.” You sighed, eyes staying locked on the road.

“You really dated that asshole?” He continued, turning to face you from the seat.

“For four years.” Your hands gripped the wheel firmly, events from the night replaying in your head over and over. The inflection of your voice was a clear indicator of your annoyance.

“And he really treated you like that the whole time?” Steve asked, and it blindsided you. Eddie had never once been unkind, even after your eventual split.

“No. He was actually very sweet. I think he was just hurt. Or drunk. Probably both.” You were quick to defend him. Steve tried his best not to feel hurt, masking it with his hand softly gripping your thigh as you drove.

“From what I heard, he’s not sober too much anymore.” Steve reasoned with you.

“He’s just got some shit to work through.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Life went on. Eddie went home. The world didn’t end. You didn’t die.

Unfortunately.

In the wake of the latest tremor done unto your life by your ex-boyfriend, you were left to deal with the aftershock of questions from both your regulars and the other girls alike. Suddenly you felt like your past relationship was a public spectacle, and, in a way, it was. Even when it was a relationship, not just the shrapnel resonance of the natural disaster that had occurred months before. You wanted as little casualties as possible- even if it meant taking more damage to yourself.

A familiar face somberly made its way through the too-hard-to-open doors that caught on the flooring. Even more somber than usual. You knew the look. You carried it yourself- the embarrassment of Eddie’s actions. At least you didn’t carry the name, though, you reminisce in a time where you could have.

Wayne Munson was a good person. Blue-collar. Well-spoken. Intelligent- yet modest in every aspect of the word. Everyone in this town knew it- even if it was attached to a pitiful feeling of watching him age as he bore the weight of both his brother and his namesake. The few members of the weeknight brigade all welcomed him with their small town recognizance as he walked in. He shook hands, kept it brief. His face looked more worn. You thought you saw a little more white in his beard than normal. He looked like this whenever Eddie would have a rough time. You wondered if you looked the same way.

“Hey, kiddo.” He said, voice gruff as he slid into the barstool with all of the comfort of an old man who would probably work until he died.

“Hi, Mr. Munson.” You said, sweetly. More sweetly than usually would.

“Still just Wayne sweetheart, ‘specially given the circumstances.” He sighs, knowing exactly well that you knew what he was referring to.

You matched his somber expression, more sympathy for him than anger towards Eddie. You reached behind you and pulled a bottle from it, removing the cap in one swift motion. Coors Banquets. Heavies, he called them. He only bought them for special occasions or really bad days. For the heavy days. You had learned it was best to leave him alone when you spotted the pale yellow label wrapped around the stout bottle- usually paired with a hand-rolled cigarette.

“On the house.” You said, a sympathetic smile curling at the corner of your lips. It mirrored in the crows feet around his eyes. Though much deeper, they matched Eddie’s. A part of you missed seeing them.

“I should be the one with the peace offering.” He chuckled, tipping the top of the bottle towards you before sipping from the lip.

“S’Not a peace offering. No reason for it.” You reassured him. Wayne had never wronged you in any way.

“On behalf of my boy.” He clarified, raising a wiry brow towards you.

“No need, Wayne. We both know.” You reassured him again, with more brevity. You knew how Eddie could be when he was going through a rough patch emotionally. It had gotten worse since you were no longer together. You tried not to speculate on that fact too much, choosing to remain blissfully ignorant.

“I know.” Wayne said to you through a sigh, running a calloused hand down his face, “-Still don’t make it fair to you.”

“Life isn’t fair, Wayne.” You retorted, your lips curling up into a smile despite the fact that you were only half joking.

“Got that right, sweetheart.” His eyes matched your half-joking smile, though, under the mustache, you couldn’t quite tell if he ever was smiling or not.

“‘S he okay? He took a pretty hard fall last night.” You wondered to Wayne aloud, pang of guilt immediately impaling through your breastbone. You weren’t with him. You were with Steve. You should be angry that he rocked your boyfriend’s shit and humiliated you and made you leave work early and lose out on tips. But you weren’t. You and your stupid indiscretions.

“Think his pride’s hurt worse.” Wayne said through a gruff sigh, face falling back to his more-somber-than-usual expression.

“I can imagine.” You said to him, not really knowing what else to say. Your own embarrassment clogged the drain. The silence drowned you in the tub.

“‘Re you okay?” Wayne asked after a dreadful moment of silence. You wondered who was asking. Him or Eddie.

“Of course, Wayne. He’s not the first guy to get too drunk here and he won’t be the last.” You reached across the bar to grasp his forearm in reassurance.

“But it’s not every day Eddie starts talking like that, sweetheart,” Wayne reaffirmed, thick, wiry brow raised at you.

“Out of his ass?”

“No, that’s every day.” He chuckled, looking down at his beer, “I’m talking about his feelings.”

“He was drunk. I’m not gonna hold that against him.” You sighed, pushing your old feeling back down your throat. You packed them away into a little box like an heirloom wedding dress. You’d never use them, but you couldn’t bear to rid yourself of them.

“You were good to him, y’know. Still are.” Wayne’s eyes softened, making intense contact with yours.

“He was good to me, Wayne.”

“He talked about you the whole way home last night.” Wayne silently pleaded for a moment of your attention. He wanted to see that you still cared about his boy. He knew you did, but he just needed to see it.

“Oh really? And what did he have to say?” You asked, finally, annoyance filling the back seat of your throat- though endearment sat firmly at the wheel.

“Said he’d give it all up just to have you around again. Talked about that Harrington kid and how he’s no good for you.”

“Steve is nice.” You defended, too quickly, “And Eddie shouldn’t have to give up anything because we’re not together.”

“Said that Harrington boy couldn’t even argue your honor.” Wayne said, slyly, raising the bottle in his hand to take a long pull.

“Can’t argue with a drunk person.” You said back, turning your attention to the towel at the lower counter in front of you. You wiped at it even though it was clean.

You fell into an awkward silence. Wayne knew he was right, but he also knew what Eddie did was wrong. Though he would defend his nephew to the edges of the Earth and back, he knew it was also his responsibility to hold him accountable - no matter how old he got. You and Wayne had an unspoken agreement during the time you were together. That was to protect Eddie. He had been through too much. You understood this before you had even met Wayne - no shovel talk necessary.

“He misses you, y’know.” Wayne broke the silence, much more delicately now. It almost felt like an apology.

“He made that known last night.” You said back, exasperatedly, pulling at the skin on your temples to alleviate the beginning of the headache that came with the memory of the ordeal prior.

“I sure do miss havin’ you around, too, kid. Home hasn’t felt the same since.”

“You can still find me here, Wayne.”

“I know. ‘S not the same, though.”

“I know.”

The whirlwind of trouble had dissipated almost as quickly as it started, a tornado that picked up unsuspecting cars and trailers from their firm foundations on the ground and displaced them horrendously. Eddie had a tendency of doing that - even if he didn’t mean it. He was just disastrous by nature. Endearingly or not, Wayne had nicknamed him Taz for that exact reason. You felt like a cow. Hopelessly spinning around with the tornado. Did tornadoes even pick up cows? Or is that just in the movies? This is a bad analogy.

Another thing that Hurricane Eddie picked up in his wake was a fanbase in the midwestern underground metal scene. He had gone from eating your Tuesday nights to his first midwestern tour with basement shows in between. You tried your very hardest not to feel sour about it - it was his dream. Not your dream, yet a part of you desperately wanted that for him. It clung to the idea of sweaty kisses on the side stage and dive bars and different cities and yeah I’m with the band and specifically yeah, I’m with the guitarist. No- like actually with him. Like he’s my boyfriend. You tried to convince yourself that you just liked the idea of him and not actually being with him anymore. Treating the symptom but not the cause.

Though your internal monologue was struggling like a sad, angry Shakespearean enthusiast, your shoulders felt lighter, the pressing weight of Eddie’s presence around your general proximity no longer imminent and kept you looking over your shoulder, behind you, a rearview image of what was supposed to be.

You looked forward at Steve. Soft, sweet, delicate Steve. Steve who agreed so kindly to sit with you during your shift after working all day just so you didn’t have to be alone for the Saturday-night special: Hawkins’ very own Corroded Coffin. Back playing their home stage after a three-month stint of identical midwestern dive bars and basement shows.

Past Steve’s shoulder, down the narrow bar and past the ancient wrought-iron staircase, sat Eddie and the rest of the band, on the near floor-level stage in between the offset snooker tables. Where they came from. Where they belonged. You averted your eyes, ignored Eddie’s existence, and cleaned the non-existent water spots from the cup in front of you so hard that you hoped it shattered and you would have to go somewhere other than this very spot.

You remembered sitting just feet away, a crowd of one, perched softly atop an amp as the band got ready. Now, there were more unfamiliar faces. Ones that did not belong to the steady blue-collar crowd. These people were younger. Some people you assumed from the neighboring city, some you recognized from high school. Posers.

The horrendous shriek of a pinch-note coming from Eddie’s guitar reeled you back into this mortal realm. It forced you to rush back to the patrons in front of you, sitting at the bar, and you thanked whatever celestial being who had looked down upon you with grace offered a distraction to keep you sane on a night like tonight. You mindlessly opened bottles with cold, raw fingers, scrubbed at counter-tops, and sifted through bills like a zombie, attempting desperately to not hear the sound a few feet away. Even if you were yelling over the music.

“Alright, alright guys. Thank you so much for raising hell at our home bar with us tonight. Now, before we go, I’m gonna slow it down just a bit.” Eddie finally spoke, bar mumble cutting to quiet as he did so.

“This is a song about a girl I used to love.”

You kept your eyes fixated at the resin-coated wood beneath your hands. You could feel others on you, Eddie’s fixated heavily on your face, and Steve’s flitting back and forth across the bar between you. You felt your heart sink in your chest and explode into a fine pink mist all at once in the beginning few riffs.

And just like that you were back on that amp, rose-tinted glassy haze over your eyes as you watched Eddie play - sweat beading off of him like glitter. You were in the front seat of the van, the warm wind of summer whipping your hair violently around the cab as you screamed along to Motörhead’s Love Me Forever. You were folded in a comfy chair, listening to an out-loud interpretation of whatever Tolkien novel was on-hand. You under the cover of sheets and bare feet in the back of a van and back on a woven blanket as the dew of the humidity of summer settled around your body.

In an instant, you were his again. Before all of the failed dreams and practicality and homeliness settled like dust around your childhood decay. Before this stupid fucking bar and the tips and the I can’t do this anymores.

For a singular fucking second, you could grasp on to that wisp of the best parts of your life like a loose thread, the memories unraveling into a pile that slipped through your fingers.

While you stared glassy-eyed at your former flame, Steve was taking in the features of your face. His eyes flicked to the bridge of your mouth, watching the soft upturn of your lips as you tried not to peer at the stage through kissed lashes. The haze of the bar casted a golden dew over the high points of your face. The song Eddie sang tied you to him in a painfully beautiful tether. One he couldn’t bring himself to slice through - if he could at all. He finally watched the way your eyes met his. He watched the tears irrigate your lower lash-line, singular swarvoskian drop rolling down your golden cheek in an orange chroma like molten glass - trenching through the residue of what was and would never be again.

He wished it was for him.

Instead, he watched you fall irrevocably in love with the man you swore you could never love again. The man who chose a dream over you- something so fucking tangible and so fucking beautiful. It was unfair. So fucking unfair.

This wasn’t the first time he had watched you fall. In the six month span that he spent unintentionally fighting for your affection, he watched you stumble over yourself over and over again. You still kept his band’s cassettes in your car. You still worked the nights he played. You defended him, even after he attacked your honor in front of everyone you used to know.

This wasn’t you. This never was you. You were not country-club, brunch on Sundays, and flat-iron waves. You were not soft yellow sweaters and warm vanilla sugar. You did not reserve your heart for nice boys with dark hair who said nice things to you. You were behind the bar, ambergris smoke rolled between lips, and the static basso of a secondhand amp with all the passion you could muster within its auxiliary. You were Patron Silver chilled and old cotton t-shirts. You did not reserve yourself for anyone.

Unless of course it was for Eddie.

Steve knew this, yet it didn’t stop it from hurting so bad.

At the end of your shift, as you tucked your tips into your purse and met Steve, he refused to grab your hand as he did in the nights prior. You recoiled your own from his rejection. Steve felt the pit of dread growing within his chest. He wanted to choke on it - wished he physically could.

He wished he could turn a blind eye. He wanted to act like you would love him eventually. He wanted to act like he didn’t see the hurt behind your eyes tonight, or the way you looked past him towards the stage. Steve wanted so desperately to love you, but knew he couldn’t. Not when you would never love him, either.

“I see the way he looks at you.” Steve spoke, without further prompting.

“What do you mean?” You were taken aback by this sudden outburst - no matter how soft-spoken Steve remained.

“This isn’t you.” Steve took a step back from your body, genturing up and down over your frame. The words cut deeper within you than he had intended. It felt like everyone else knew who you were besides you.

“What isn’t me, Steve?” You asked, slightly above a whisper.

“This. Us.” He gestured between you, matching your tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I want to break up.”

“But, Steve, I-”

“No, don’t even say that you love me. You don’t. You just can’t stand the idea of being alone. Or being without him. Whichever one it is.”

You knew he was right, yet it didn’t stop your chest from feeling like it was collapsing in on you. Your relationship with Steve was pleasant enough, but you knew that if your life was a movie Steve would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”

“It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to you. I can’t keep doing this. That night we fought? You defended him after he attacked you. After he attacked me. He left for that stupid tour and you all but fell apart. You don’t love me.”

This was a ridiculous existence.

You could not fucking believe yourself at this very moment. You were not this pathetic. You did not ever lose your absolute shit like this. And you most certainly did not cry in your car to fucking Tears for Fears.

Except you did. In the front seat of your car, ten minutes before you are due to walk into your early shift in broad daylight where you relied on skating by on good looks alone, crying to Head Over Heels as the radio streamed the worst top forty.

This was not you.

You didn’t cry over boys. You didn’t let them change the trajectory of your life this easily. You would not allow your life to come to this. So you picked your head up, swiped the smeared mascara from under your eyes, and overzealously stomped down the concrete staircase into the bar.

At a near-comedic scratch-stop halt, you realized that you couldn’t do this.

You wanted to look up at the sky and throw your hands out in defeat. You wanted to ask God or whatever was up there smiting you why? Why did that stupid marquee sign out front have to read CORRODED COFFIN TONIGHT TONIGHT TONIGHT in big, stupid, obnoxious letters. And why did you have to be scheduled for tonight?

The overhead lights felt brighter this time. They felt like they were going to melt the skin off of your face and dehydrate your eyeballs. The billowy haze of cigarette smoke felt heavier in your lungs from the offset of secondhand smoke. The four men, Gareth, Jeff, Grant, and Eddie, set the tiny stage up like they had done repeatedly in the past. Eddie’s leg swung back then caught itself on the bottom rung of the barstool in a rhythmic fashion as he strummed, then tuned, then strummed some more.

You would not allow yourself to think he was pretty, to look at the way his flyaway curls caught the bar lighting and cast a glow around his head like a halo. You would not allow eyes to fall on deft fingers and tried to cling to the way they felt when they trailed up your spine. And you certainly did not allow your eyes to meet the ambergris warmth of his own. Instead, you allowed the coldness to set in your eyes, drained the emotion from yourself in a spigot, and let the cold of the bottles and ice beneath your palms burn your skin to serve as a welcome distraction.

You knew what you would sound like if you opened your mouth, but you wore this persona like a crown. You were the queen of anthill and you would be damned if it wasn’t a mountain. Anything was better than letting him hear your voice crack or see your face soften. He didn’t deserve your tenderness, and you had none to spare.

You kept your eyes fixated on the wood of the bar, only briefly looking up to talk to bar patrons and look at who was walking in the door. You opened bottles with the skin of the heel of your hand, letting the caps draw the rawness from your skin as a reminder to not allow for any softness or understanding. You drowned his music out of your ears, ignored him bouncing around on the smaller stage, and willed whatever girls had traveled specifically to see him clarity for a much better, much healthier life than him.

You skate through your shift this way. In fact, you’ve perfected it. So much, that you don’t even recognize when the set closes and the music stops. So much that, when you do finally look up, Eddie is headed immediately in your direction. It was in slow motion. Like some sicker, more twisted Baywatch and you wanted to vomit directly into the ice bins.

“Hey babe-” He started, cheekily leaning up against the bar. His hands were braces against the bartop. Almost as if he hadn’t remembered the last six months of your life. Almost as if nothing had ever happened.

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed back at him, the word lighting you on fire faster than you ever thought it could have. The invisible tether that tied you to him was shorter than you thought it was - than you wanted it to be.

“Sorry, I forgot you were going steady with Steve Harrington.” He rolled his eyes at you, twisting up his face as he said Steve’s name.

You went silent. You willed yourself not to cry. He didn’t deserve you vulnerability or your tears, but Steve’s words still rang through your head. You can’t stand the idea of being alone. Or being without him.

“Oh. I see that Harrington charm really worked on you, huh?” Eddie thought out loud. It was condescending. It was horrible. You wanted to serve him the world’s greatest hurricane shot, on the house.

“Eddie, stop.” You begged, much more quietly than you had said before, but he didn’t stop.

“What, did he stop coming around aft-“

“I don’t need to fucking deal with this.” You said, voice crumbling in a breathy whisper as you turned. Your shift had ended five minutes prior. You typically stayed over a few minutes to make the transition easier for the next girl that came in, but you knew she saw. You knew she’d understand.

“Woah, wait.” Eddie called after you as you dropped what was in your hands and ducked away into the back office. You sat in the peeling office chair, letting it undulate under your weight before you pressed the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. You hoped it would press the tears back down into their ducts. You waited a few minutes, waiting until you couldn’t see Eddie down below in the first floor of the bar. You rummaged through the filing drawer within the desk, pulling the worn leather strap of your purse out of it as you messily tucked your tips down into the first pocket your hands felt.

When it felt safe enough for you to leave, you ducked out of the office and down the spiral staircase as quickly as possible. You felt the stairs creak beneath your feet and the structure wobble. You hoped it would collapse on you. You thought you had made it away unscathed, yet you weren’t so lucky.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize it was a touchy subject.” Eddie piped from behind you, leaning solemnly against the brick structure with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had been waiting for you. You rolled your eyes, before turning around against your better judgment.

“Not like you haven’t been absolutely fucking molesting it since.” You said back to him - all piss and vinegar. You threw your hands up along with the towel.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, pushing himself off of the brick, snuffing the cigarette out in the process. You were boiling now, hatred and passion requiring your brain and planing it’s own routes through your body like veins.

“It means you’re ruining my life, Eddie! Fuck!”

“How the fuck am I ruining your life?” He said, gesturing over your body with a large hand, eyes squinting towards you in anguish.

“I’m not doing this.” You said, holding your hands up in defeat and turning to walk away. Eddie caught up to you in a few strides, reaching out to grab your wrist.

“No, no, no. You don’t just get to say shit like that and then just walk away. I didn’t break up with you. Steve broke up with you-”

“-Because of you.” You said, hand finding his chest to shove him away from you, but he grabbed your other wrist, holding it firmly between his fingers.

“No. I didn’t break your heart. Steve did.” Eddie said to you, looking you straight in the face for the first time since before you broke up. Your eyes welled with tears that you tried desperately to fight back.

“Yes you fucking did, Eddie! You did when you fucking left for tour the first time, and then you did it again when you came back, and then you did it when you fucking left again. You’ve done it over and over again and you need to fucking-”

“Stop.” Eddie chided, voice firm and unwavering. His eyes scanned your face looking into your glassy eyes.

“Stop making me fall in love with you.” It came from you in a whisper.

“Stop, okay? I’m gonna make this right.” His voice matched your tone. Rarely was he gentle with you like this.

And suddenly, you were back. All of the things that weren’t gilded about you and Eddie came to fruition - few things ever were. The domesticity, or lack thereof. The fights, every one that you were ever able to rebound from. All of the things that made your relationship real, tangible, were immediately in front of you for the taking again. You remembered all of the easy parts, absolutely. But you didn’t want easy. You craved goddamned difficult.

You don’t remember when his lips met yours, but they were welcome. It felt like an old friend. It felt like the best parts of your childhood. It felt like a sunburn, warm and you welcomed the sting that came with it at every touch.

You don’t remember climbing into the back of the van, but your brain had hazed over when Eddie’s lips had begun to travel downwards towards your collarbones, first grazing the supple flesh behind your ear and the taught skin of your neck.

It was all too familiar, as if the last six months had never happened. The hurt, the anguish. Gone in an instant.

His tongue met the taught flesh stretched over your shoulder and held by your clavicle. He marked it like canvas, sucking harshly then soothing over the sting with the warm, wet tip of his tongue. His hands found purchase on the most narrow expanse of your lower back, just before the flare of your pelvis as you straddled him. His back remained pressed against the sidewall of his car, warm fingers trailing over the hemline of your pants with a bruising vigor.

Your hips rock over his, grinding in rhythm to the way he bucks his hips up in an intricate choreography. One the two of you had mastered well before this. He releases a breathy moan, and it is beautiful.

His hands grip your hips firmly, and Eddie uses the leverage from his knees to lift you off of his body and flip you around in one smooth transition. He leans upwards from over the top of you, stripping his jacket off, balling it up, and sticking it under your head. Ever the gentleman.

He peels his shirt off, first, then his hands find yours as they fumble with the buttons on his jeans beneath the belt you had already undone. He quickly rids you of your clothes, leaving only the black cotton thong to hide your body. He leans back, looking over your body as his hands find their place over the outer curves of your breasts, thumb coming up to brush over a pert nipple. This draws a soft whine from your mouth.

“God, I missed you.” Eddie breathed over you, eyes already wide and blown-out.

Or did you just miss this? You wanted to say, but pushed the thought quickly aside. Eddie wiped the indiscretions out of your brain along with any of your other thoughts as his right thumb slipped below the hemline of your panties and found purchase over your swollen clit, rubbing painfully slow circles as he watched you whine. He still knew your body well.

He dipped two fingers into you, dragging them up through the folds of your body and collecting your slick between his fingers. He pulled his hand away, ring and middle finger separating for you to see the strings of your secretions pull apart.

“Did Steve know how to make you wet like this?” He asked you, mocking heavy in his voice. He brought the two fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean with a moan. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste of you. You couldn’t answer, still trying to relinquish the stretch of his thick fingers.

“You still taste like fucking candy.” He growled from over the top of you, thumb once again beginning to move, and fingers finding their way back into you.

Your hands find a home gripping your own thighs with a bruising vigor. Eddie’s free hand comes down to them, pushing the backs of your thighs up to your chest as he slides his boxers down to his thighs, allowing his heavy cock to free itself. Flushed pink at the tip and dripping its pearlescent precum. He stroked himself a few times, looking over your body once again, before pressing it into your with little warning.

You whined softly, squirming at the stretch and bathing in the sting. You felt full. You hadn’t felt this full in a long time. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes and spilled down your cheeks in pleasure, your hands reaching to grip Eddie’s forearms. The skin over them taught from bearing the weight of his body over yours.

“Steve didn’t make you cry like this. I do.” He said through gritted teeth, rutting into you roughly, the sounds of skin on skin wetly slapping throughout the expanse of the van. He gripped you tightly, as if he were afraid to let you go. You gripped on to him as well.

You broke loose of whatever confine tethered you to Steve. Wanting to get away from Eddie, maybe, or perhaps the guilt of not actually wanting Steve. Whatever the feeling had been, Steve had been right.

You offered your vulnerability back to him willingly, in the form of the tears escaping your eyes and dripping down your flushed cheeks. You offered it in the form of whines and moans that he drew from your lips with every glorious rut into that beautiful spongy spot within you. You offered it in the form of orgasm, clinging to his shoulders as he pushed you over that crest, spilling into you in synchro. You knew that this was something that was meant to happen.

You knew that, even if it was just for tonight, you belonged to Eddie Musnon.

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