#trying to learn tags and how this cite works too
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I had this game idea where it's just a pain to play
Before even getting to the title screen you have to enter a "password" and there's no password it just auto-unlocks after 10 - 20 tries it's not even consistant
Then on the title screen you gotta click on this ball that's zipping around your screen to get the key to even unlock the ability to play the damn game
All the achievements will be increadibly hard or annoying, there'd be one where you have to die 10 times and the earliest death you can get is 30 minutes in and you need to go through all the most obscure choices (ie click the potted plant in the background to somehow pass this thing which was never implied or indicated at all)
There would be collectables required to get the best ending but I never tell you about their existance and they just look like background decor so there's no way you'd know until you accidentally click them and you can't find them easily.
Also, some things would kill you if you click them, so there's that
All the fights are quick time events and some go really fast you'd need an insane reaction time to even have a chance to do them
The only good ending is the one where you have to max out relationships with every character, get all the achievements (even the ones which you get on different runs of the game), and collect all the collectables which as stated previously are generic background decor
The bosses all have 30 different phases and they all go immune in the middle of each phase and send their minions at you
#also the protaganist is the blandest motherfucker ever#he's straight cis and male and he looks like an average 20 year old white guy#I'm new here hello fellows#trying to learn tags and how this cite works too
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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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As a non writer I’m curious about something. Do you decide to write a specific genre and then work an idea into the genre or do you write the idea/story you want and then look to decide which genre it is? I guess I’m curious if the story or genre comes first?
Great question!
For fic: I write whatever the fuck I want and don't worry about it! I mostly write things that end happily because that's what makes me happy, but as long as I tag things appropriately (AU, platonic, IN SPACE, whatever), I don't let any of that bother me. Fic is so fun because it can so easily slide between genres. And most fic is romance AND something else; romance and crime/mystery, romance and scifi, romance and fantasy, or simply contemporary romance. There's a big thing in the publishing world right now where people are like "omg, ROMANTASY, aka fantasy with a primary romance, HOW THRILLING" and I'm like...dude...this not new! Welcome! Have you heard of a lil fandom by the name of XENA WARRIOR PRINCESS??? Do not cite the Deep Magic to me Witch. I was there when it was written.
For novels that you're trying to get published: I had to learn what book genres were! I queried my first novel—which is when you send it out to agents like a job application, with a cover letter and writing sample, and hope they want to represent you, aka help you sell it—being like THIS HAS NO GENRE and it turns out the genre was romcom with speculative elements. Aka low key romantasy, lol. Anyway, that book was Revelations and it didn't sell, I think primarily because the genre conventions were not met and it was confusing. It worked great as a fic, but required several big overhauls and ground-up rewrites to get it to place where it meets genre expectations and is maybe sell-able.
Usually the idea that comes to me is clear what genre it is, now that I know what they are. I primarily write romcoms, some speculative and some not, and so the ideas that percolate for me most are romcoms. However, my agent said recently a new idea I have might be more on the line of romcom and women's fiction* which surprised me. But that's fine! It doesn't change the book I write; it might change how we talk about it in the pitch process and, if it gets sold, how the marketing team frames it. But that won't change the story structure from a drafting perspective, I don't think.
Some genres are very close to each other (upmarket vs. book club fiction vs. women's fiction), while others are quite distinct (if you want it set in space, that's probably going to be sci fi). I think the main questions are:
(a) Setting: Is it on a space ship? (sci-fi) Are there dragons? (fantasy) Can people use magic? (fantasy or speculative) Is it in our world, in our time? (contemporary) In our world but in 1250? (historical)
(b) Character motivations (what do they NEED): To repopulate their planet? Save their mother from the evil magician? Fall in love? Save her bookstore from capitalism?
(c) Obstacle (why don't they have it ALREADY): If the obstacle is primarily internal, like she can't fall in love because she hates herself, then we're looking at a straight romance or literary fiction. If the obstacle is world-building related, like the spaceship is broken or the magician is too powerful, that's going to be firmly sci-fi or fantasy or whatever.
There should always be at least 2 obstacles: one internal and one external, but you should know which one is paramount, or which would win in an epic battle. And that will help you figure out if you're writing, say, romance with speculative elements (soulmates) or fantasy with a strong romantic element (fourth wing, i think, i haven't read it because it seems bad). Whichever you list first is your primary genre, aka which section of the bookstore it'll be in. Are you shelving this in fantasy (fourth wing) or romance (Revelations) or "fiction," and then the rest gets more specific from there.
*also, just like, FUCK the name "women's fiction." Men's fiction is called "fiction."
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Hi there - I'm Lila!
I've been here for a while, but I'm just now realizing I never did a pinned post with All Of The Essential Info. So, before I go do something else and forget, here's the (pretty long) 411!
You can call me by the pseudonym Lila (or, to be extra fancy, the full pseuds: Lila Almondpetal) wherever you bump into me online. In terms of finding me, my @ is @cboffshore for here, Twitter, and Discord. I'm also on AO3 under OffshoreWriter. (If you're wondering what the "cb" in there stands for: those letters were on clearance at the Username Parts Store and I blew the rest of the budget on "offshore," so they don't really mean anything, but it's a nice rhythm overall!)
You'll learn pretty quick that my primary fandom is Ninjago. However, I've also got other media interests that you'll see me dabble in: Bionicle, bands like My Chemical Romance, IDKHOW, and Fall Out Boy, Pixie Hollow/Disney Fairies (yes to the fairies bit but no to the Disney), The Umbrella Academy, and probably some others I'm forgetting. Besides the Skybound Analysis PhD (more on that in a bit), my only real fandom claim to fame is apparently inventing the Ninjago Couture genre; check out the tag #ninjago couture on my blog for examples of that. I also dabble in grade-A shitposting, although that's more of a Twitter thing. The tag #analysis freak Lila back on her bullshit is a good one if you enjoy it when people read too far into things.
Back to the Skybound Analysis PhD thing: that's definitely a thing I put in all my bios! Whether or not it's from a credentialed institution is up to you, but it means that if you like funky, canon-based takes on Skybound, you're in the right place! I do a lot of stuff related to Skybound, but here are some guided recs of my favorite projects:
If you like high fashion and symbolism, try this half-art, half-essay series analyzing Nadakhan's psychological state and desires through couture remixes of seasonal outfits.
If you like extended metaphors and bittersweet criticisms of massively popular works, you'll like this academic-turned-artistic two-part essay about how I feel about the concerning trend of gratuitous SA in the Skybound fic scene. Please be forewarned that this is a vent essay, not an attack; I've had people miss the disclaimers before and it's never fun. If for any reason you'd like to cite it or build on my ideas, let me know in advance - mostly so I'm not blindsided, but also because I want to see what you come up with!
If you think Nya should have been allowed to beat up Nadakhan at least once, you'll love my ongoing AO3 series On Sea, Sunlight, and Sky, which concerns Nya's experience during the second half of Skybound. The beating up here is more emotional than physical, but whatever brings him down a notch is good enough for her. As of late 2023, this gets a shiny new installment every December; this year's, "If I Can Think (Of Something Clever)," is complete, clocking in at over 30k!
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For the anon that asked for resources, here's a pdf of the dsm criteria for personality disorders, including npd and here's a 'revised' version of the NPD diagnostic criteria by a narcissist that adds on and clarifies onto the different presentations of narcissistic symptoms, this is an article that goes in depth about NPD, also written by a narcissist, though the checklist they use is based on the DSM IV, this is a Tumblr blog by a narcissist for narcissists that often reblogs things about NPD. I've also found the most informative 'sources' on narcissism to be narcissists ourselves. Personality disorders are often underresearched, reputable psychiatric research and psychiatric journals are difficult to get access to and easily accessible ones are too busy trying to pretend we're too complicated to possibly understand and so on (even if we can accurately point to how our NPD developed and other people's NPD developed and find the pattern, and tell you this is how it is) more by narcissists on NPD 1 and 2.
Other 'sources' that aren't necessarily about NPD but pertain to it such as this post about the coinage of narcissistic abuse & it's problematic history, citing the coiner's own work and this post about the conversation surrounding narcissism and narcissistic abuse also this post that links an article discussing the issues with pathologising abuse and following commentary you also have this anon in olderthannetfic's askbox establishing that narcissism is a psychiatric term and not an unflattering common term that can be used without connection to NPD and for people who want to go "narcissistic abuse" doesn't mean all narcissists so it isn't ableist... here's why your analogy doesn't work.
At any rate, this is the bulk of it. If you (not initial anon) want to learn about NPD, go to narcissists. Go to our tags, follow our blogs and so on. Stop relying on pop psych to inform your view on a disorder.
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ES ALBACETE (ROZALÉN)
okay so, since a few years ago, i have been compiling songs that talk about certain cities / regions of spain because they make me emotional for some reason and i really like them :) soon after starting doing that i wanted to share it here but i didn't know how. i might have found how to tho. i will be posting lyrics to some of these songs, and i will be explaining every reference they make to that particular city / area, so we all get to learn a bit about it !! let me know if i should change the formatting or whatever, this is all a wip lol. i will be tagging both here and in my masterpost with 'spain in songs', but again, that's also a wip lol
anyways, i wanted to start with a song about albacete cause that's where my mother's side of the family is from so i have a very strong tie to it and especially to rozalén (she's like. the family titular singer. i don't know how to explain it but she's very dear to us all) so i had to !!!!
before starting, just a bit of context; she made this song when she was chosen as the pregonera (spokesperson) in the albacete city festivities last year, and she sung it for the first time during the pregón (speech). the first time i listened to it was through and audio my mum's cousin sent her lol. also, it's a jota, one of the traditional musical styles in the peninsula - it's the most common as well. the album where this song is from is full of traditional sounds if you want to check it out, as every rozalén album it's full of songs with social messages and just. phenomenal stuff. i really recommend it, it's called matriz.
anyways, here's the translation in english of the lyrics (let me know if there's any mistakes!!!). i will do all explanations below the cut, so this doesn't get too lengthy.
as stated before, jotas are one of the traditional songs in iberia. they vary according to the region; the one sung in albacete, which is also the type of jota this song is, is a jota manchega. the most well-known jotas are, however, the ones from aragón, as they are known to be the original and oldest ones as well. this is how aragonese jotas sound, try to spot the difference with the manchegas!
all la mancha (the region albacete is part of) is famous for its steel work, and albacete in particular is known for its navajas or knife pockets! you can find them all over souvenir stores and roadside bars, and there's even a cutlery museum in albacete city.
3. albacete province is indeed a land of mountains and plains! most of the province is part of the meseta sur ('southern tableland'), part of the larger meseta central , but the southwest is full of mountains and river canyons, as it contains part of the sierras (mountains) of segura and alcaraz, in the cordillera prebética ('prebaetic system').
4. albacete sits halfway between madrid and the mediterranean coast, and that's what has granted it it's importance within the country. in fact, most people from madrid know it as the place where you stop by to eat on your trip to the coast (which explains the next line in the song).
5. okay, this is just a dumb dad joke and i feel mortified having to explain it, so sorry beforehand. when someone with a lot of confidence on themselves say they want to study in harvard when they grow up, or when someone cites a dubius study made in harvard, someone (usually a dad) will say, 'yeah, from "jarvacete".' In spanish, if you say 'harvard city' fast, it would be pronounced more or less like 'har-bah-seeh-teh', similar to albacete ('al-bah-theh-teh'). it's just a dumb joke idk.
6. funnily enough, this one isn't a joke but a real tagline of the city. really. the term 'the new york of la mancha' to refer to albacete was coined by the writer azorín at the end of the 19th century in a poem to the city, calling it like that because of its tall and modern buildings, its heavy industrialization, and its electrical workframe. it's also the largest city in la mancha (it has 172k inhabitants) by a wide margin (guadalajara, the 2nd largest, only has 87k), so that helps. here's a comparision between the two cities, so you can see the striking resemblance. albacete is on the right btw.
7. the atascaburras (literally 'donkeyclogger') is one of the traditional dishes from albacete province. it is usually eaten in winter after a snow, and it's made with dried and salted cod, boiled potatoes, olive oil, garlic, boiled eggs, and walnuts.
8. the miguelitos ('little michaels') are the most well-known dessert from albacete province, sold in every roadside bar and so very iconic, i love them. they originated in the town of la roda, and are a type of cream filled puff pastry. they're sometimes also filled with chocolate (the superior miguelitos imo).
9. the bota (literally 'boot') is a traditional spanish wine recipient found mostly in rural areas, such as albacete, made out of leather. it's a very iconic iberian tool, it is used in a lot of stuff for aesthetic purposes.
10. the feria de albacete ('albacete fair') is the main festivity of the city (the one for which rozalén was spokeperson for and the reason this song got made). it is celebrated every year from 7-17th september in honour of the Virgen de los Llanos ('Our Lady of the Plains'), and it's celebrated in this space called the recinto ferial full of attractions and stands, lots of drinks, free food, and people dressing up in the traditional manchego outfits and dancing and having fun and it's great :) within this recinto ferial, there's this tall pole called el pincho ('the spike') that is used as a meeting point for many albaceteñes, so it's become this iconic part of the feria.
11. the alpargatas are a traditional spanish shoes made out of wicker and esparto used (in a more modern form) all over iberia (i myself have a pair), and that happen to be part of the manchego outfit.
#spain in songs#rozalén#albacete#la mancha#spain#i swear i won't post many songs about madrid#it's not my fault that there's just. more songs about it#but i promise i'll space them out or something i'll figure it out#anyways hope you liked this :) i cried the first few times i heard this song <3
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You're really good at writing imo. Are their any fanfic authors or any books you recommend that helped you improve your writing?
Thank you so much! That’s very kind!
And oh boy DO I
For years before I actually wrote anything I was a fanfic lurker and I read a lot. My last church choir job in the Before Times was during the final seasons of GoT and I read a lot of fic during the sermon. Which is just to say, that I think there are a lot of fic writers — both within and without the GG fandom that have influenced me and inspired me. I wouldn’t say anything has directly improved in an instructional sense, like “this is how you should write, yadidiyadda…” but reading a lot has let me learn by osmosis: what I like to see, what I don’t like to see, and a lot of it has inspired me, particular tropes and story premises and things like that, so! Let’s have some lists…
First, in the non-Gossip Girl category, there are writers in different fandoms whose works I think about a lot and really enjoy and kind of…look up to, if that makes sense. In the Shadowhunter Chronicles, the media that has had as much as an obsessive hold on my heart as GG, one might argue, I really admire @themimsyborogove and revisit her work often. And—we’re not mutuals so I’ll refrain from tagging bc I’m shy— ashesandhoney writes some awesome fic (and, if I may be so crass, they write very good smut—is it weird to cite a smut influence? Oh well, too late). TSC is a fandom that’s been racked with both a poor movie and poor TV adaptation, so finding fic that satisfies a books-truther just as myself is a tall order, but these two both are lovely (and Mimsy writes showfic too that I just know is wonderful bc she wrote it). And tsc & these writers opened me up to the magic of trying to write the ot3. I’ve used ashesandhoney’s herongraystairs fic as a frame of reference for writing d/b/n (not that the characters are the same, or the relationship dynamics between the three are the same, it’s more a…vibe thing? Like, how do you illustrate this love and how these three connect to each other?)
And in GoT I will never forget ashleyfanfic and justwanderingneverlost they made this amazing au where the Starks are prohibition bootleggers and it reads like an hbo miniseries hatfields and mccoys kind of epic and I think about it alllllll the time. And it is one fo the first aus that left an impact for being so out there when held up against the source material, but so inventive and grounded in the characters and I just think about it at least once a week. Also ashley’s pop star au fic is god tier and lived rent free in my mind for a loooooong time. Also a smutspiration.
In the same vein of aus I never could have imagined but took over my heart, welpthisishappening’s hockey au of OUAT. before these works I was pretty much a canon-compliant/canon-divergence only kind of fic reader, and these works and these writers got me to see outside of that view and gave me permission to imagine characters in worlds outside of their own, and how exciting that can be, and without that I definitely wouldn’t have written all that I have.
And lastly, I have to give a shoutout to a writer of the other GG, MrsMess and their Gilmore Girls fic. Harvest Moon healed the wounds of the revival to me and is canon in my heart, and it’s so beautifully and thoughtfully written and how could I not be inspired by it?
And as for the dair fandom itself….god I mean pretty much everyone I’ve read has made me a better writer and made me want to write and keep writing. In the beginning of the dairaissance in mid 2020 the tag on ao3 was much smaller (I think we’ve grown it by like 50%??? Just looking at it roughly??? Good work team!!!) and of course I was inspired by the great revered fic standards written by audrina (she’s retired from gg but secondaudrina is the pseud where most of her fic lives on), and bookglue aka @windowsandfeelings (I only got into her gilmore girls works through gossip girl but damn she’s a hero), and nevertothethird aka @scabopolis — like seriously I wouldn’t have written anything at all probably if not for the existence of Wrapped in Ribbons, and @pseudowoodo as well, who wrote thee seminal role-swap au.
And then of course there’s my heavyhitters, my ride-or-dies. I’ve told them multiple times, but I’ll tell em again, Nads @mysteriesofloves and Ivy @mrs-nate-humphrey were writing and posting and creating pretty regularly when I started poking my head in to the fandom, and their stories were so brilliant and well thought out and compassionate to the characters that it turned on something in my brain and made me want to write too, so I did. Then not long after I found S @strideofpride, my most beloved enabler and peer pressurer and reading what they make and talking to them about it has unquestionably made me a better writer. I have grown a lot in the year and however many months it’s been since I started doing this and I owe it to all of the above <333
As for not-fic writing I read….just everything. Everything I read informs me as a writer, directly and indirectly. Though I don’t write it, I find poetry very inspirational. Devotions, No Matter the Wreckage, Open Me Carefully, Leaves of Grass, have all informed me. Some prose writers I—not necessarily aspire to, bc how could I ever be as brilliant? But maybe…revere and internalize are: Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson, Isabel Allende, Vladimir Nabokov, Kevin Kwan, Emily Henry...
#i firmly believe any reading makes you a better writer#like i'm just reading timothy zahn's silly star wars fanfic#but the act of doing the thing is it yk?#i hope everyone is okay with the tags#there are much more of you that have been so lovely and encouraging and I am grateful for you all <333#asks#anon
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fun fact, i live in a swamp.
no, it doesn’t smell bad. when you get to the swampy areas there are cypress trees in the water that put of the smell really good.
the marshes near the salt and brackish water that smell like the pluff mud from which the sweetgrass grows. it smellls like dead sea creatures and works like quick sand and the more tou struggle the more you sink. simply do not walk on it. i have literally never in all my years.
anyway, living in a swamp is cool. there are all sorts of creatures and plants. you can find and hunt for food. i wouldn’t go swimming in it (don’t die from brain eating amoeba or gators pls. take florida level precautions bc it’s not that that different in coastal neigboring states).
we also have lots of swamp themed/related events. my favorite is the hell hole swamp festival, a bomb community event where everyone comes out for essentially a swampy country fair (no rides or funnel cakes but like barbeque and cake and children’s games, and child school choirs, and fun competions. Its also home of the Hell Hole Gator Run, a 10 K. The Hell Hole Talent Show is great too. Just community members of all ages putting on performances and a dinner. If you are from the lowcountry come check it out. we admittedly can be a bit insular, but bring a friend or family and you’ll intergrate right in. express interest in them, their culture, and the geographic area and they will be happy to share.
there are state parks specifically so people can enjoy there time in said swamp. the Santee Canal park has a nature museum that’s pretty cool. you can learn about the ecology of the area and the flora and fauna there in. knowing how to navigate the swamp help the US win the revolutionary war (they didn’t have immunity against malaria and probably got attacked by gators like today’s clueless and or ignorant tourists to the southeast US. like don’t get piss drunk in an area that has deadly wild life and don’t think you’re city smarts apply in nature. they don’t. listen to locals. also don’t screw around with the gators??? we have tourists who pelt them with stones. they are opportunistic hunters who often don’t even mess with you unprompted most of the time. they are important to the enviroment and tourist foolishness can get them put down/ euthanized).
i realize i keep pointing out how deadly it can be, but urban places like NYC, Philly, Los Angelos, and Chicago have their potentially deadly issues, just different ones. still places worth visiting and respecting.
but basically, i live in a swamp and it’s great actually. i often feel like Shrek when people come here to live and disrespect the area. it’s a beautiful place, ecologically important, has events you can’t find in urban areas, people (left and right politically) care about ecological preservation (hunters and fisherman are on board). don’t disrespect the swamp because the swamp WILL disrespect you.
also don’t try to make it new york city or columbus. (becuse its usually and ohian. they are gentrifying the area and promoting “development” that ruins the natural beauty and ecological important cites that the locals take a lot of pride in and are essential to our way of life. literally stay in Ohio if you can’t intergrate into rural/ small towns in southeast states, deadass. i get so angry, no joke. i love my home and my swamp. the state most hated by south carolinians is ohio and there is a reason for that.)
in the words of shrek which often echo in my head:
“what are you doing in MY Swamp?!!!”
i like it here, you should totally visit and drop you preconceptions to best enjoy the experience, and be on your toes and your best behavior if you are an ohian, because most of us already hate all things ohio and will may mess with you if you have an ohio tag on your car and tick them off on the road for diving rudely or insulting said swamp, and our preferred “lack” of development. We feel about it like shrek did tbh. we want to live in south carolina, not ohio /srs.
#ohio#lowcountry#swampcore#swamp#south carolina#southern pride#but not in the white supremacy/confederate sort of way#the thing is most of us (imo) are proud southerners not just the racist people#i am never setting foot in ohio such have the ohians in south carolina have contributedd to my dislike of ohio#please go home#this got of topic but just know south carolinians are thinking it#i am fine with immigration except ohio and people with negative views about the south and southerners#/hj but also /srs#like i am a Black nonbinary Lesbian who is part of a minority ethinic group in the southeast (Gullah Geechee people)#/srs#lol#i don't claim indigeniaity to say our land but arguably could as it is a part of our culture and blood due to the Seminole#we have beef (bc some of the held us Gullah people as slaves) but have also allied in wars against white colonizers#we have also intermixed racially#idk my percentages if any but bc of the slavery thing i likely would not claim it#the main settlement the formed was in florida which half of my family is from#but maybe i should amke amends and take pride in my floridian idenitity lmao#take my rightful place as a proud decendent of florida men and florida women#also learn more about the Seminole and learn about our shared characteristics and history and#have less of a generational chip on my shoulder but idk any#maybe i should make a post#there are so many tags here but they are even less relevant to the post#if you are seminole please dm me bc now i am more curious
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I fucking love TeX
Professional graphic designers like to think they're pushing the world of typography forward, but they're delusional—the real heroes are all the middle-aged dudes on the TeX User Group making typefaces and packages for TeX's many distributions.
Do you honestly think scientists use InDesign? Please, we have better things to spend grant money on—we use TeX (and some use Word and get other people to do the TeX for them). We program our documents and we like it.
Oh what's that? Adobe's charging you a shitload of fuck every month to keep using their shitty page layout software? Oh me? I just downloaded a professional bit of software for free, along with like 10 Gb worth of extra packages for free. The source code? Oh yeah, I can edit that too.
And TeX does exactly what you tell it—no fucking stupid Office/InDesign "oh you're clicking this button so I'll destroy your whole document" bullshit, no stupid AI grammar checker, no long menus, no dialogue trees, no using all your computer's resources. Just type in your command and you're done. If I want to put a picture in a document at the top of a page, all I need to do is
\begin{figure}[t]
\includegraphics{foo}
\caption{Eat my ass, Adobe!}
\end{figure}
The best part is using pandoc with LaTeX, so you don't have to do much programming at all, you just type a markdown document—which is so easy to do it's supported on tumblr—and tell pandoc to make it a PDF. You can program your own templates and everything, it's just wonderful. I use XeTeX with pandoc, so I can use OpenType and TrueType fonts, and get all their cozy features, without using Word or some shit.
TeX also has the best math typesetting, bar none. If you're doing any kind of stuff with math at all, you're going to use TeX without question—if you've ever been on a forum with a bunch of nerds that has a math typesetting thing, that's TeX right there.
And want to know something else? People think you're goddamn Alan Turing for typing shit up in TeX. People think you might as well be Jesus Christ, son of Tony fucking Hawk for typing "\emph{foo}" in your document.
In some ways TeX is even easier than HTML—you don't have to remember how to use all those stupid XML tags, you just do \foo for your commands, and play with brackets, and that's it.
If you've never tried it, I highly suggest you play around with TeX for a bit. Overleaf has some wonderful documentation for TeX—specifically LaTeX—and you can use their free website to learn TeX without installing anything on your computer.
Citations? Oh yeah, TeX does that. If you use a plain TeX distribution, BibLaTeX is your best friend—it's easy to use, super powerful, and handles your citations automatically from a bibliography file—you can just use Zotero to manage your bibliography and research, then export your bibliography to a BibLaTeX file. If you're using pandoc, it can do CSL citations, which means you can really easily find, say, MLA, Chicago/Turabian, and niche journal citation styles. It is literally a godsend—you can just type in "\cite{foo}" (TeX) or "[@foo]" (pandoc) and cite your source.
If you've never done it before, by god consider trying TeX. I can't say it's easy—the time you save not doing GUI bullshit will be spent reading documentation—and the learning curve is high, but it's so worth it in the end.
There will be headaches learning it, you will struggle to know what "overfull hbox" means; you will struggle to remember the names of a few symbols; you will, by god, misalign brackets, or use square brackets where you should have used curly braces. But in the end it all works, it all comes together almost divinely.
What I suggest for new learners is to get the TeX basics down first, then transition to pandoc and make your own TeX template to use—it will give you the necessary TeX experience to make something that works good, and eventually help you save a lot of time.
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#7ee675
pairing: Glamrock Freddy/Reader (Monty/Reader as well)
tags: unrequited love, mentions of smut, angst
wc: 2,710
I would highly recommend reading this on ao3 (here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36424591?view_adult=true )
---------------
For the longest time, it was easy to describe what he was feeling.
His AI was relatively simple: smiling meant happy, frowning meant sad, and everything in between was nothing that could avoid the scrutiny of his learning processes. It was easy, like a game of matching cards. Of course, Freddy was unfamiliar with the emotions themselves; ask him what happiness is and he could give you a sterling, textbook definition. Ask him what happiness feels like, however, and he might give you a glitch or two after citing some medical jargon. For him, it was empty. Not in a bad way, but it never sunk further than what his programming made room for.
He was comfortable that way, in the hollowness. He had nothing to compare it to. Everything felt stable and rigid and routined. He was comfortable in his own state of robo-homeostasis.
When you first walked into his life, he greeted you formally and usually, allowing his happy disposition to front. You shook his hand jubilantly and flashed your own smile at him– clearly you were happy too. His oculars processed your face, flashing green upon receiving the desired outcome.
He remained in his unaltering world for a while in the time you spent together. You were the textbook definition of kind while working on him, making sure to take care of his fragile parts with a delicate hand. You were also the textbook definition of amiable; asking him how he was, how his shows went, and how he felt became an integral part of his daily life. And when he’d answer, you’d always flash him your smile, and subconsciously–or sub-programming…ly?-- he began to associate you with that lovely little green.
Suddenly, everything was green to him. From the plants to the trees, to the salads sold at the food court, he wanted to see the color green. He looked everywhere for it, but only truly found it in just the right hex code when you stood in front of him, smiling like you always did. It…filled him in a certain way; every time he saw it, his fans stuttered, his language functions errored, and he felt like he’d burst at any given moment. But the feeling was addicting. He had no idea what it was, thinking that he must be in need of some long-overdue maintenance. All he knew was that you in particular made him feel that way. So light, so airy, like he was one hundred pounds lighter and floating on a cloud.
Freddy explored it a bit within himself, searching his own databases to try and define this foreign feeling. He scanned every article, blog post, and page about it, but one word remained constant: love. That’s when it clicked. What he was experiencing was love.
He almost short-circuited when the realization hit him. For once in his life, he’d actually experienced a human emotion. For once in his life, a smile meant something deeper than a complete jumble of numbers and processes. For once in his life, the words he spoke felt real.
For once in his life, the hollowness felt hollow.
Then, even more emotions metaphorically slapped the metal of his face. Excitement, fear, worry, anxiousness, elatedness… For the first time ever, he’d genuinely craved something. A phantom force pulled him toward the feeling you gave him for no other reason than the fact that he wanted it. Is this what free will felt like? Is this what humans feel like? Is this what it means to be human? To love? Thoughts raced through his mind, flooding his processor, and eyes flurrying around his room and taking everything in with a new light. His whole world felt new.
The next day he talked to you about his feelings, telling you all about his wonder and amazement and how he finally felt complete. You giggled; you were happy for him, but then, you delved into some of the more intricate parts of human relationships and emotions, with Freddy mentally jotting all of your information down to keep in his own human-emotion bible. You said something he didn’t quite understand when you finished your speech, but when you smiled at him, the color green doused his vision, and he forgot all about it.
He never told you, but he enjoyed exploring these new feelings with you, growing increasingly impatient every time he knew you were coming to do work on him. His little crush on you grew with time, to the point where he had your work schedule, favorite color, favorite food, favorite song, and anything he could possibly soak up about your life memorized. It got to the point that he’d do anything just to see you, spotting little parts of you in various quirks around the plex and smiling to himself.
“So…,” you began, screwing a miscellaneous bolt back into his thigh, “what emotion did you feel today?”
He let out a faux sigh, gleefully noting all the exciting parts of his day.
“...But I believe my favorite emotion is the one I feel when I am around you, superstar!”
Your laugh filled his room, delighting his ears while he watched your chest bounce and mouth stretch wide. He was happy that way, having these little moments with you where he could shed his robotic skin and let himself be. He was content with his life.
On another day, he skipped around the pizzaplex as he does when he is given time to roam after hours. He ran through his usual procedure but kept an eye out for your hex code. He walked around some more before your numbers appeared in his visual field, and that familiar glee flooded his receptors. He raced in their direction, ready to tell you all about his latest escapades all while feeling that subtle thrumming within him in your presence. He rounded a corner and halted. Your green was there, but it was aimed at another. Monty stood next to you, mumbling something unintelligible while your face flushed, smiling giddily.
Suddenly, another, new emotion crept up his metal spine.
Suddenly, the color green— your green filled him with jealousy.
In one, doleful moment, suddenly, he didn’t want to see the color green anymore.
But it was right there, right in front of him. At the one moment when he so desperately wanted to get away from it, green was all he could see.
He paused, staring at the way Monty’s viridian arm snaked around you, pulling you ever closer to him while you giggled, covering your blushing cheeks. He supposed having human emotions came with its caveats. But if this vile, green envy was what he was set to feel, he wanted no part of it.
It was uncomfortable, painful, twisting his wiring in ways that made him writhe and clench. Freddy searched his databases for the right word. Eventually, he found it.
It was longing.
With downtrodden eyes, he watched the two of you, caught up in your own world as if he wasn’t even there. To you, was he ever there? Truly? Was he ever there? Freddy turned away, dragging his feet along the concrete of the floor back to his room. His newfound emotions stormed and boiled inside of his metal, evident by the fans that fruitlessly tried to cool him. He sat on his couch, brows furrowing with so much feeling. He glared unfocused at the floor, throttling himself into his own head.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to be reset. He wanted to get rid of your memory. He wanted so badly to forget that green.
It wasn’t the last time he’d witness the two of you either.
To Freddy’s envious dismay, for a while, you and Monty were all over each other. Monty would brag about you endlessly to the rest of the group, and when he wasn’t bragging about you, he’d be glued to your side, touching, poking, and cracking jokes, flooding Freddy’s visual field with pure viridian.
After a while, Freddy thought that he’d slowly be able to purge the emotions and conflicting feelings within him. As dutifully as he could, he was mostly successful. Freddy had a job to do, and allowing you to dominate his mental storage would get him scrapped sooner than later. The emotions flowed uncomfortably within him for a while, but over time, they mellowed, only fronting again when he was alone with you. Once again, he was happy–as much as he could be– in the hollowness– in the familiarity. However, everything he’d worked so hard to forget resurfaced when he heard you gasping Monty’s name through the green room wall, your moans echoing and making Freddy shiver. He felt his eye twitch, brows harrowing against cold, unforgiving metal. The sound of his footsteps had noticeably fallen quiet upon hearing the noises, solidifying him in his place while he listened to everything Monty did to you; things that he wanted to do to you.
Freddy heard your nails scratch wantonly against Monty’s back, sounds of slapping skin resonating from the room. It was absolutely patronizing. Freddy felt his metal heat, wishing desperately that he was stuck in a sick dream and that he’d wake up to you at his side. Monty must have detected Freddy’s presence by then, deciding to taunt him cruelly. And worst of all, in the few minutes he stood there, a moan louder than the rest pierced him, and green filled his vision.
Freddy stomped back to his room, seething beyond repair. Surely, reducing himself back to an emulating, metal husk was better than the hurricane that raged inside of him. It was so much– too much. It was horrible. He yearned and ached and fumed in complete silence, knowing that now he would never have you. He marinated in utter quiet that night, unmoving and unwilling to charge himself for the next day. There was no point anymore.
Before he knew it, the morning dawned, and he hadn’t forgotten a thing. He grouped with his bandmates to perform, dragging his feet along the cement of the hallway. Freddy knew that his usual mien was terribly disrupted and discombobulated, but human emotions were so incredulously powerful that he gave himself a pass. Monty stood in front of him, tuning his guitar, and once again was he forced to see that wretched green.
“Are you okay, Freddy?” asked Chica, peering at his intense glare from below, “You don’t look so good…”
He de-stressed his face, flashing her his usual, amicable grin, “I am fine, Chica, thank you,” and walked to the front of the lift, fiddling with his microphone and staring a hole into the wall. He felt choked by it. Everything was green.
The crowd cheering fell deaf on his ears, gripping the microphone firmly as if to remind himself that he did have a responsibility to fulfill despite his inner turmoil. The shredding of guitar strings reverberated around him, lights, strobes, and lasers throwing him deeper into the fog. He ran to center stage, each step further assuming his innate design. For a second, only a second, your green appeared among the crowd. He focused on it; you were watching him. He felt his programming crack, filling his servos with a tingly, breathless feeling.
The first few notes he sang came unnaturally as his anger further materialized with every lyric.
“Why you gotta be so blind?”
It was comical, the choice of song.
“Won’t you open up your eyes?”
His teeth ground against the metal of his inner jaw. Something deep and gravelly bubbled from behind his chest plate and into the metal of his throat. He hadn’t even noticed he practically growled the notes until he saw your awestruck face.
“He’s no good!”
Monty was no good for you, really. Freddy was. But you didn’t want that, did you? You didn’t want him. He couldn’t force you, but he sure as hell would make it insufferable for you to be with Monty, not while he was there. Freddy wasn’t a quitter, and he was not going to acquiesce to your precious green. His anger was on perfect display for you to see. The rush of emotions controlled his every move, forcing the deepest secrets from his mind through every note. He only hoped that it reached you too.
The song was over before he even knew what happened. The crowd roared with applause but it felt empty. Everything felt empty. Freddy felt empty. His ferocity came and left like a strong gust of wind, leaving only the sadness, betrayal, and jealousy among the sea of happy faces. He tried scouring through the crowd for one more look at your face, but by then, you had disappeared as if you were only a figment of his imagination.
After the performance, you tip-toed into his room, standing silently for a long moment.
“Wow…” you gasped, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost, “That was an amazing performance, Freddy!”
Your hands flailed cutely while you walked towards him, carrying a wrench for his daily repairs.
“The emotion, the flare, the song and dance… it was so cool, Freddy! I didn’t know your voice box had that much range!”
Any anger he had before immediately dissipated when he saw how starstruck you were. He wanted so desperately to smile, but the jealousy from before boiled beneath his hardware. He fought away the yearning thoughts, dusting his mind of all the things that could have been.
“I am glad you enjoyed it, superstar…”
His eyes darted back to the carpet; he knew he looked sullen, hoping in the deepest, darkest parts of his machinery that you’d ask what was wrong.
“Freddy?” you asked, perking his ears, “what’s going on? Another malfunction?”
His brows furrowed. He rose to his feet, staring down at you through determined eyes. He looked to the side for a moment. Was this… really the right thing to do? Would you hate him if he told you how he felt? Would you never come and see him again? His fingers found your empty hand, cradling your palm in his own delicately as if you were his. The determination washed away with every second he held on to you; now, all that was left was a broken heart, and, of course, a sight he hated to see. Your green morphed into a deep, depressing blue.
“... Freddy?”
His eyes flickered dolefully between your hand and your eyes, his processor struggling aimlessly to piece together the right words. You peered at him with concern, only furthering his own maelstrom of confusion and sadness. He wanted the moment to last forever, with his hand in your own as if nothing were keeping the two of you apart. But maybe, for once, the right decision was to acquiesce. If he loved you, then maybe the best decision would be to let you live happily– with him or not. He let go of your hand, letting his own fall to his side.
“It’s nothing, superstar…How about you do my repairs and I will let you go on your way? I bet Monty is just itching to see you.”
Your pupils dilated at the sound of Monty’s name, a faint pink dusting your cheeks as you looked away bashfully.
“He probably is… That idiot,” you shook your head, bending down to fiddle with his parts, “I love him though.”
A knife felt like it slashed the surface of his chest. Freddy was never more grateful that he didn’t have tear ducts. He remained staunch in his unspoken promise to you, but god did it hurt. He wished he was the one you called an idiot. He wished he was the one who pleasured you until you couldn’t think straight. He wished he was the one to hold you and whisper in your ear. Freddy wished he was the one who could say “I love you”.
But instead, you continued wordlessly on his body, picking, and prodding at all the misplaced metal as if everything were perfectly fine. When you were finished you muttered a quick goodbye, obviously eager to see another. The door shut way too loudly behind you.
And from your shadow danced a trail of bright, colorful green.
#five nights at freddy's#fnaf security breach#fnaf sb#glamrock freddy x reader#monty x reader#fnaf sb headcanons#security breach
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REPOSTING THIS BC I SPENT 3 HOURS WRITING THIS AND IT DIDN'T SHOW UP IN THE TAGS
here's cherubim in her meet outfit. outline of her central series under the cut.
meet cherubim: an american girl - late summer 1691, cherubim, a girl from salem village who has recently recovered from cowpox, is allowed to go out for the first time since she got sick. her mother warns her that she needs to do chores bc she hasn't been able to do any work for the past month, but decides to go easy on her at first since cherubim's strength hasn't fully bounced back yet, and only tasks her with fetching a pail of water. cherubim is thrilled bc it means she can go to her favorite stream, although she is confused by the fact that her father isn't there on such an important day, as she hasn't seen him at all. on her way, she hears discussion of a new charter that will expand the colony, and the adults seem to think that it will be passed soon. cherubim further takes the scenic route to the stream, and takes note of a new family who just got here from england, and is thrilled bc she's never left salem before and wants to know what it's like over there. along the way, she hears arguments and gossip about property lines, grazing rights, the church, their neighbors and other things she can't quite understand and isn't sure if this is new or just something she's no longer accustomed to. cherubim reaches the stream and fetches the pail of water, before taking a few minutes to look for bugs. her bug-hunting is interrupted by a boy from salem town she knows from church, abraham, showing up to fetch a pail of water on his own, she's shocked that he's wearing trousers as he's the same age as her and she doesn't think they're old enough for trousers, but he chastises her for not working hard enough, cherubim calls him a jerk, and he cites his family's wealth as proof god likes his family more than hers, cherubim further picks a fight and he reacts by shoving her, before realizing what he's done, she immediately grabs her pail and goes straight home, briefly passing reverend parris's daughter and her friends but not greeting them as they seem to be whispering about something secret. she gets home and finds out that her father had gotten her a nice new blue dress, which he cites as being a color as dainty as a girl her age should be, she likes the dress but not the part about daintiness, she still thinks of herself as being too young to need to be dainty.
cherubim learns a lesson - fall 1691, cherubim is exhausted bc her mother has made her work overtime since getting better to make up for lost time, and she just can't wrap her head around why god would want her to work so much to impress him, but she doesn't ask bc she remembers a time where she'd asked why humans had to try to get rid of their sin if they were born with it and received a beating for it. cherubim is sent for a final month of reading school taught by abraham's mother, all the other girls her age were out of school by this point, so she dreads being the only one her age, although when she gets there she finds out that the new family from england has children, more specifically a girl her age who was also deemed to be behind in reading, they don't have a chance to talk but they begin to wave to each other whenever they see each other about. at school, they have to read the bible, and cherubim doesn't think it's fair that she's considered behind when all she was able to do while she was sick was read the bible, and she wants to read something else, she brings this up to her mother when she gets home, which horrifies her, and cherubim has to pray for the rest of the night and isn't allowed dinner. the next day cherubim thinks about how unfair it is that boys are allowed to go to grammar school and university but girls just get a few years of reading school, but has realized it's best to hold her tongue in situations like this so she doesn't say anything. once she gets home, her mother has her fetch another pail of water and she does, when she gets to the stream she finds that it's frozen over early and there are no bugs around, so she crosses through salem town to try and find another place to get water, and while she's there she sees a fight break out between one of her neighbors from the village and a man from salem town over an insult, she thinks about how when you know something you want to say isn't going to end well for you, you should keep it to yourself. when she gets home she tells her mother and father about the fight and the frozen stream and they seem very worried.
cherubim's surprise - winter 1691-1692, cherubim really wants a doll like she's seen the girl from england with, and she thinks she deserves it too since she hasn't been given a toy since she was 6 and she's been working extra hard, but winters are tough and all the adults nearby seem deeply worried about a day called "christmas" so it looks unlikely that the hints she's been dropping will ever come to furition, the day comes and goes and is uneventful, save for the family from england seemingly celebrating it. time comes and goes and a baby is born in the village in january and there's a big celebration, cherubim sees the girl from england there and they have the chance to speak for the first time, she finds out she's named trinity doe, the two dance together as births are an event where dancing is allowed and cherubim decides trinity's name fits bc she's so amazing that the father, son and holy spirit only together could begin to compare, but when she gets home she feels bad about the blasphemy and tries to pray it away. time goes on and in february her aunt mercy, a widow with no children who lives with cherubim's family, gives her a ragdoll that looks similar to trinity's wooden doll, while making cherubim promise to be strong despite what's afflicting the girls of salem town.
happy birthday cherubim! - spring 1692, sarah good, sarah osborne, and tituba have been convicted as witches, and everyone around salem seems to be either accused or an accuser, cherubim is worried that someone she knows will be next. her mother tells cherubim to stay inside when she has the chance and be sure to make it look like she's working extra hard to impress god, as she's worried cherubim's off behavior will have a negative eye cast on the family. in mid-march cherubim finds out that the latest batch of accusations point at trinity's family, and her own aunt mercy, both accusations having been made by abraham's family in court. cherubim is shocked and upset but her mother and father don't let her so much as show her grief as sympathy for a witch won't end well. after trinity's family and aunt mercy are imprisoned, cherubim can't hide her feelings anymore and her mother takes to saying that she's fallen ill again, as an excuse to keep her away from watchful eyes and pointing fingers, while she's kept at home, cherubim is instructed to pray. on may 1st, cherubim realizes it's her birthday, which she's never been allowed to celebrate like others do due to the sinful nature of may day, but upon realizing she's practically a grown up now, she also realizes that sitting around and crying isn't going to do anyone any good. cherubim uses the time her parents are gone to bake 3 loaves of bread, one bc her parents will be able to tell she made bread so they don't find out about her plan, one for aunt, mercy, one for trinity, they don't look that good but they taste good and that's what matters. in the middle of the night, she sneaks out to visit the jail and secretly gives one loaf to aunt mercy, cherubim looks around for the window nearest trinity and manages to find her and the two talk, trinity apologizes that they can't celebrate cherubim's birthday together, and cherubim contests that they can, and they split the final loaf of bread. trinity asks cherubim for a favor and cherubim agrees, to which trinity asks if cherubim can go to her house and take her wooden doll to take care of her until trinity gets out, cherubim agrees and commits breaking and entering, before going home.
cherubim saves the day - summer 1692, due to cherubim seemingly coming to terms with aunt mercy and trinity's imprisonment, her mother has allowed her to go out again. court rulings for the witches was now in session and upon witnessing a hanging while on her way to the stream, cherubim can't help but imagine the same thing happening to trinity or aunt mercy, even though she's witnessed hangings before. when she reaches the stream she decides to rest instead of looking for bugs and she thinks about how unfair the witchcraft hangings were when someone could just lie about someone else being a witch, and she realizes that the previous hangings she's watched -- quakers, adulterers, catholics and sodomites -- didn't deserve to be punished for how they lived their lives either, bc for all she and the other puritans knew, they could be living how god really wants them to and the puritans could have been doing it incorrectly after all. cherubim decides that it's unfair to take anybody's life over a broken law anyways because laws are just made up rules, and cherubim wants to figure out how to fix this. cherubim wants to get up when she realizes a pretty dragonfly like she's never seen before has landed on her arm. she's been trying to find a dragonfly for so long that she's shocked to see one like this and takes it as a sign that she's right, she continues to ponder how she can help people so she doesn't disturb the dragonfly and realizes people who didn't receive the death penalty are dying in jail too bc of the poor conditions, and while she's to young to have the sway to abolish the death penalty, she thinks she can take things to the prisoners, as she has before. once the dragonfly leaves, she runs to the jail, and asks trinity through the bars what other than bread the prisoners need, and she does her best to supply them with everything she can get.
changes for cherubim - winter 1692, cherubim waits with baited breath as courts have been dismissed and no new accusations are being made, and the attitude surrounding witchcraft now leaned towards it being fake and the imagination of children taken too far. she continues to take supplies to the prisoners but feels that they'll soon be free. and just like that, abraham's family is found not guilty, and thus those they implicated with them are as well, cherubim is allowed to celebrate aunt mercy's return, and a couple days later she runs into trinity, the two go to embrace but cherubim has her hold off for a second, and asks her to meet by the stream, cherubim runs home to get both of their dolls and when they get there, she gives trinity back hers. she tells trinity about how beautiful the dragonfly was, drawing a picture to show her, about all she was able to realize, and about everything that's happened to her in the outside world, and trinity is all ears. trinity explains what it was like back in england and what christmas is and cherubim eagerly listens. the two of them dance like they did at the beginning of the year, and the book ends with the two hugging and cherubim thinking of how the stars are shining bright like angels. (get it? bc her name is-)
tune back in for trinity's best friend book where, in a moment of cinematic parallels, she thinks that cherubim lives up to her name bc she was like her guardian angel while she was in prison. gay people, am i right?
#if this disappears in the tags again i will scream#american girl#american girl oc#american girl dolls#ag#daring.png#romeo.txt
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Dark Secrets: New Beginnings
A/N: This is the first installment of the Vampire!Sonny x reader fic. This chapter is only setting the stage; next chapter will be more about the vampire aspect, I promise! This covers the Bookstore square in @adarafaelbarba moodboard bingo!
Tags: mentions of sex
Words: 2233
Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31
You spent hours on the computer compiling resources for your thesis. After years and years, you were finally getting your Ph. D in History…if you could just finish this damned thesis. List complete, you headed to the local bookstore; you always checked them first before going online, since they were cheaper.
You were intimately familiar with the bookstore; you went there often. And you had double and triple checked online that they had these books. You had a small basket, four books in it, while you looked for the fifth and final book you needed. But its spot on the shelf stood vacant; a perfect hole where it should be.
Shaking your head slightly, you started to search the shelves around it, in case someone didn’t put it back correctly. But you were coming up empty. And this was the book that you needed to buy here; the shop had it for $20, while online was a couple hundred.
“Looking for Making the Revolution: America, 1763-1791?” a voice asked from behind you.
You turned to find a pale, lanky, attractive man, his hair slicked back, his bright blue eyes watching you intently. He was sitting at a table, open book in his hand. Seeing the cover, you knew it was the book you needed.
“I am, yes. Were you intending to buy it?” you questioned, praying he said no.
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “I was debating it. Why, do you want it?”
“I do; I need it for my thesis. If you let me buy it, I promise to give it to you when I’m done, free of charge.” At this point, you were just desperate for that book.
His eyes seemed to bore into you as he thought about your proposal. Finally, he smiled, saying, “I think that’s a noble reason to buy this book. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He held the book out to you, and you gently took it from him.
“Thank you so, so much. You don’t know how much this helps me,” you said, placing the book in your basket.
He held a hand up. “No problem. There’s a lot of inaccuracies in that text, anyways.”
You blinked in surprise. “There are?”
“Oh yes. For one, it perpetuates the idea that Christopher Columbus came here to ‘escape tyranny’ in England, which is a load of crap, if I’m honest.”
You took a step closer to the strange man. “Do you have a source on that?”
He thought about it, chuckling to himself about something, before he answered. “Well, I am in the process of transcribing a manuscript from the man himself. But it hasn’t been published quite yet, so I doubt it’ll be of use to you for your thesis.”
“Wh—who are you?” you asked in awe.
He held a hand out for you to shake. “Dr. Dominick Carisi Jr., but you, my dear, may call me Sonny.”
Your eyes widened in shock, and you quickly shook his hand. “Dr. Carisi? Oh my god! I’ve been reading your work in class; I loved your thesis on slavery!” You had never seen a picture of him, had no idea he was so young; he was about your age. You had expected him to be an old man, at least in his 80s, not this attractive man in his early 40s at most.
He barked out a laugh. “You’ve really been reading my work? I’m flattered. I didn’t think anyone put stock in my texts.” While it was true he was a world renowned historian, his work was seen as highly controversial. He had a knack for citing manuscripts and journal entries, things that no one had discovered before he brought them to the limelight. But every authenticator had proven that the writings were from the time period. And that was enough for you.
“Please, sir, er, Doctor. Could I spend a day with you, pick your brain for my thesis? I’ll—I’ll buy the drinks and food, just…please?” you asked, suddenly embarrassed.
But Sonny’s smile grew. “I’d like that. But only if you call me Sonny. If you’re doing your thesis, then I assume you’re almost done with your doctorate?” You nodded, and he continued, “then in my eyes, we’re equals, and you don’t need to call me ‘Doctor’.”
Your heart beat a little faster when he called you equals. “Thank you so much Doc—Sonny. Does the coffeeshop next door work for you?”
“It does. And I’m free all week, whenever you need me.”
“How about tomorrow morning? I don’t have class until 3pm; I hope that’s enough time to chat.”
He gave you that heart melting smile once more. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” Then he took your hand and kissed it. As he walked away, your knees felt weak. You were infatuated within five minutes of talking to him.
**********************
Sonny turned out to be an incredible source of information. Plus, he brought books that he thought would help you, letting you borrow what you needed. And, like yesterday, you found yourself completely enamored with him. He didn’t have a ring on, so you assumed him unmarried, but you didn’t know how to bring it up without being weird. Sure, you were close in age, but he was done with school, became a published historian, while you were still finishing up college. But he never talked down to you; on the contrary, he seemed highly interested in what you had to say.
Like before, you had been nervous—star-struck, really—when you met up with him. But as the hours ticked by, you found yourself more and more comfortable with him. He was highly intelligent, especially about history. You had found it hard to find someone who was as interested in history as you were, without sounding like a pretentious asshole. But Sonny checked all those boxes for you. You were just unsure if he felt the same.
“When is your thesis due? I feel like it’s still early in the academic year,” he asked.
You cleared your throat. “It is; I still have months and months to work on it. It’s due next year, but I want it to be perfect, you know?”
“I do, I do,” he agreed, nodding. “I hope you’re taking some time off, though, as well. Don’t let this paper take up your whole life; you should be out, appreciating everything this life has to give you. Don’t get stuck in the past.”
You looked at the table, letting his words soak in. It was like he had looked right through you; for the past month or so, you’ve been deep in your studies. You had friends, sure, but you hardly saw them. And you’d given up on dating until after you finished college, anyways. But maybe Sonny was on to something. You should seize the day, capture every moment in memories.
“Would you like to get dinner with me, Sonny?” you asked, trying to sound as confident as possible.
It was his turn to look surprised. “Oh, uh…sorry, you caught me off guard. In all my years, no one has ever asked me out; it’s usually the other way around.”
You chuckled. “You’re not much older than me,” you joked, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s time for something new. For both of us…that is, if you want?”
“I’d love to go to dinner with you,” he said, and your heart soared.
When it was getting close to 3, you bade him goodbye, and he told you he would be eagerly awaiting your dinner date. You felt your face heat at the words, and you swore your face never cooled off for the rest of the day.
*********************
That date with Doctor Carisi turned out to be the best decision of your life. You both felt the spark between you, and you said yes to a second date before he even finished asking. Now, it’s been ten months of loving bliss between you. You completed your thesis, got your doctorate, and Sonny couldn’t be more proud of you. And you learned that while he was a historian, he was also a detective. He said he wanted to help people now, by giving them both access to history material, and by putting absolute monsters away.
But there were little things with him, quirks, really. Though you’ve been to his place, and he yours, he never made a move to get you into bed. Sure, you’ve kissed—and sometimes this escalated to a full-blown make out session—but he didn’t seem interested in sex.
He also didn’t seem interested in moving in together…or a future at all, really. Whenever you tried to bring it up, he would just nod along with you, agreeing to whatever you said and adding on a lot of “one day’s”.
He had no family for you to meet, and yours didn’t live close. You noticed he also didn’t eat or drink much; he loved to make you dinner, and he would say that he snacked while cooking. And then, about once a month, he’d leave for 3-4 days, claiming he wanted to be alone to work on the manuscript.
You gave him as much space as he asked for, and though you still loved him dearly, you were starting to wonder if there was something wrong with you…or if it was just something he was having issues with.
“Hey Sonny?” you asked one day while snuggling on the couch at your place. “Are we okay?”
He glanced down at you. “As far as I know, yes? Why, something on your mind?”
“Well…I was just thinking about how we’ve been together almost a year and we still haven’t moved in together,” you tried.
He looked to the ceiling as he thought. “Wow, I guess it really has been that long now, hasn’t it? I feel like I just met you yesterday.”
“So, are we not connecting on a deeper level, then?” You sat up, turning to look at him.
His bright blue eyes found yours, and his expression softened. “That’s not what I meant; I’m sorry it came out like that. Time just…it moves so quickly is all. Look, I love you, I just—I don’t think I’m quite ready to make that jump yet. I’m sorry; I know this must be frustrating, but I promise you one day, I’ll…I’ll be ready.”
You nodded. “I love you too, I just….”
“What is it? You can tell me—”
“Why won’t you sleep with me?” you asked softly. His eyes widened, and you quickly added, “are—are you ace? It’s fine if you are, I understand, but I just…I feel like it’s something wrong with me, and I—”
He cupped your face in his hands, looking deeply in your eyes. “No, it’s nothing wrong with you, I promise. I’m just…I’m not ready—”
“I have urges, Sonny. And I love you, want to wait for you. But it’s been almost a year. I—I don’t believe a healthy relationship is built on sex, but well, it’d be nice to have every once in a while….”
He sighed, releasing your face. “It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do. I just want to be absolutely sure I’m ready. Call it shyness, or embarrassment, whatever you want. But I want to make sure that—that you’re the one for me, first, okay?”
You opened your mouth to respond when his phone rang. He gave you an apologetic look before answering with his stiff, “Carisi.” He mostly listened, making little noises of affirmation, before hanging up.
“I’m so, so sorry, doll. But the department needs me. I swear we’ll talk about this once I’m home, okay?” he promised, getting to his feet.
He grabbed his jacket, heading for the front door. “Sonny wait,” you called, and he stopped, looking back at you. You hurried over to him, looking up into those beautiful blues. “Be careful.”
He smiled softly. “I will be; promise.” He gave you a kiss, and then he was gone.
********************
You didn’t hear from Sonny again until the next morning, when he showed up on your front door, breakfast in hand. He apologized for leaving you last night during that important talk, but you brushed it off, telling him it was fine.
“That’s not all I have to apologize for,” he said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m…going undercover. I’ll be gone for three months.”
Your face fell, and you put your fingers under his chin, tilting his face until he looked at you. “Three months?” you breathed.
“I’m sorry; I tried to decline, but the Lieutenant gave her orders. I leave in an hour.”
“Three months…” you said again, worry blossoming in your chest. This was the longest he’d be gone since you started dating.
He nodded. “I’ll text or call when I can, but don’t expect it; it may be too dangerous.”
You’d heard enough; you lifted onto your tiptoes, kissing him desperately. Your hands went to his hair, and you pulled him close, all your fear and trepidation in the kiss. He froze for only a moment before he was kissing you back, hands on your hips. He clutched you tightly enough that you gasped in pain, and he pulled away, releasing you.
“I’m sorry. I love you,” he muttered before turning to leave, but you had a suspicion that he wasn’t apologizing for leaving.
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Lessons from the Screen: Jasmine (Blue Jasmine)
Played by Cate Blanchett, Jasmine is the titular character to Woody Allen's film, Blue Jasmine. It's one of my favourite films not because Jasmine is a character to aspire to, but rather one to take lessons from.
Who is Jasmine?
Born Jeanette, she was adopted along with her sister Ginger. She changes her name to Jasmine, likely when she was 18 since she had met her husband Hal as Jasmine and he is said to have fallen in love with the name Jasmine. (Jasmine does lie about the origins of her name afterwards, saying that her parents named her after their favourite flower - night blooming jasmine). She drops out of school to marry him and thereafter lives the life of a Manhattan socialite.
We don't know much of her past but it can be inferred that Jasmine likely came from the lower middle to middle class.
Her Husband's Arrest and Death
Jasmine's husband Hal, was arrested on charges of embezzlement
and fraud. As a result, all of their assets were frozen and seized. Hal had committed suicide while arrested, likely knowing that he couldn't do the jail time and couldn't bear the humiliation. Jasmine was able to hide a few things to sell but has to take a job - a retail position at a shoe store and had to wait upon women with whom she had hosted previously at luncheons.
Moving to San Francisco
Jasmine moves in with her sister, after not being able to afford her Brooklyn rent and finding herself in a mountain of debt. Ginger lives a strictly lower-middle class life with her two children.
Jasmine decides she wants to become an interior decorator and knows she can get a qualification online. However as she knows nothing about using a computer, she takes a class on how to use them.
Lessons we can learn
Do not drop out of school to get married.
In the first scene of the film, Jasmine mentions that she was in school studying anthropology but drops out of school after marrying Hal. So now that her husband is dead, she has to support herself now (since their assets were seized).
Lesson: Do not give up your education for anyone. You are the one living your life so do what's best for you. Knowledge is something that no one can take from you! If someone wants to marry you but wants you to drop out of school for it, don't bother with them as they may be trying to make you completely dependent on them.
Keep employable hobbies.
"But what if they're so wealthy I don't actually have to work? Isn't that the whole point?"
Jasmine thought that too. Until she her husband was arrested and committed suicide. She notes that she had always been interested in interior decorating, citing her 'great taste' and experience in decorating her homes. However now that she has to provide for herself, she can't work as an interior decorator since she doesn't have a licence.
Lesson: Even if you marry wealthy, you should cultivate some kind of hobby that can be turned into a career. Event hosting/planning, interior decoration, designing, matchmaking even - things that can be considered hobbies and yet can turn into business ideas. This is made even better by the fact you may be socialising with a different cohort of potential clients if you do decide to turn it into a business.
Have an exit plan and money of your own.
Jasmine is forced to move from New York City to San Francisco because she can't afford to live there and was forced to take a low paying retail job. She had no money of her own - rather her husband provided her the money to live the lavish lifestyle she once did.
Lesson: Be sure to have a 'worst case scenario' plan just in case. You should also have a bank account that is completely separate from your partner's - an emergency fund. Make sure it covers at least 6 months of expenses but keep adding to it when you can since money can mean freedom. Hell even keeping a packed Louis Vuitton suitcase in the event you need to get out of the house quickly may not be a bad idea either.
Understand what you're signing
Normally a spouse is not likely to get into trouble if her husband is arrested for embezzlement and fraud. However since Jasmine's signature is on a lot of the business documents, she is almost indicted along with her husband.
Lesson: Read what you're signing! Understand what you're signing. If you have trouble understanding what you're signing, consult someone in the legal profession.
Have classic pieces that never go out of style
Jasmine manages to keep a few things when she moves to San Francisco, which captures the attention of a potential suitor at a party. She manages to keep a Chanel jacket, one of her Hermes Birkins (B35, Gold with gold hardware), Roger Vivier shoes, Chanel belt and her full set of monogrammed Louis Vuitton luggage. In fact, her religiously wears her Chanel jacket and Birkin everwhere although it's seen more as Jasmine trying desperately to hold onto her previous life.
Lesson: While you don't have to have a Chanel jacket or an Hermes Birkin, you can still have classic pieces without the price tag. Nowadays there are more affordable coats and jackets that are timeless - wrap coats, trench coats, pea coats. If you can't afford a designer bag, choose one that has a timeless silhouette, minimal decorative details and minimal hardware.
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Fandom Spaces Online & Minors
This is one of those posts that are hard to type due to the complexity of the issue. Some may say it’s been long overdue, some that there isn’t even a reason for me to type it out — and honestly, I am not sure whether either of those approaches is “righter” than the other one.
Regardless, this post is more so addressed to minors who may follow me.
(Summary at the bottom).
So, where to begin? Maybe at the very core, which for today is adult content in fiction, or to be more precise — so-called “smut”. As you might have seen, I did write some pieces which fall into this category, although it’s by far not the dominant type of content on my blog.
I have never spoken before about this issue, because I considered it pretty self-explanatory. This is not brought forward by anything in particular either. However, today I thought that perhaps a couple words would not hurt.
Adult content is by far not the main focus of my blog, and as with anything which may be potentially triggering or otherwise inappropriate for viewers of a certain age, I do try my best to mark it accordingly. Works which do fall into this category, when listed on my masterlist, are described as either “smut” or NSFW even before you click into them. As for any trigger I mention, I do work under the assumption that you do know whether it is appropriate for you to read something — and whether it isn’t.
You must be aware that any NSFW fiction you might have read online is only the fantasy of the author. No matter how close to reality they try to stay, it’s just the fantasy. Humans are sets of immense amount of variables and what may be true for one person may not even be a thing for another one. I do know that sexual education isn’t really available in plenty countries. I do know curiosity is spiking during puberty and such — and I would be damned if I stuck to saying “no” without saying “why”.
You see, as I’ve said, NSFW works are fantasies of the authors. They do not have to be correct in details, they don’t have to display “standard situations” (whatever those could be), they do not have to meet any sort of criteria… And honestly, plenty of times, they do include harmful beliefs, stereotypes, misinformation, simplifications, or work under some (unrealistic) assumptions to make something work in a given setting. Now, this isn’t a major issue for adult viewers — more often than not, they do possess some sort of experience which can act as a filter. Adults are usually capable of distinguishing between purely unrealistic elements, plenty can see hurtful messages, they aren’t influenced by those too much.
Minors, on the other hand? You lack this sort of experience. Those are things you may be learning later on in your life. Now, it isn’t to say that what you would read would with 100% certainty become a standard for you — but the chances of that happening aren’t zero either. The thing is, reading NSFW works may not hurt you instantly. It is only that you may learn some hurtful things from them, which you will later have to unlearn. They may set unrealistic standards for you, they may give you a wrong idea about something. Acting based on those later on in life may lead to disappointments or, in worse cases, to being hurt. In other words: you lack tools to navigate through nuances of this sort of fiction. This is fine. It isn’t meant for you. You have time to grow and shouldn’t rush it.
Now, to give a SFW example. Let’s say, character A passionately kissing sleeping character B on the lips.
First issue is consent. A sleeping person cannot give consent to anything, much less to a passionate kiss — and I think we all can agree on that. But here start the problems.
What we can read is still only the fantasy of the author. What are the standards for the relationship described in the story, what are the standards of the author, why they wrote it this way in the first place — it’s all very individualistic and we do not have access to that information.
Then, there is a narration. The words we choose make a world of difference. The action above can be presented in both negative and positive way.
Let’s say person B isn’t consenting to being kissed like so.
We will most likely be able to say it’s wrong and shouldn’t be allowed — at least if we were introduced to what consent is and why it matters. Being accustomed to the concept of consent before reading the scene is what provides us with the framework to judge whether it’s okay or not to do something. Imagine if the concept at play was something foreign to you, and even though it made you feel uncomfortable, it was presented as something completely normal and positive. It can be confusing, right?
And with NSFW things? You will most likely lack this sort of framework — maybe (hopefully) not necessarily in terms of consent itself, but factual things, expectations, risks certain actions may carry, preferences. If you are curious, do look for educational content. I know there is plenty of it online — and that was in my native language alone, not to mention English. Give yourself time to grow and never let fanfiction serve as the lone source of information for you on that matter. Check whether the information is cited in other places too. My intention isn’t to shame you, but to remind you that fanfiction isn’t an educational resource. It’s okay to be curious. It’s only that curiosity should be satiated with appropriate measures — the same way most people would pick water over alcohol to quench their thirst, even though technically both are liquid.
Lastly, I would like to state that I will not chase after you. I do believe you are responsible enough not to interact with content which isn’t meant for you. This isn’t an open invitation to read it, no. This also isn’t an invitation to prove to me that you are of appropriate age — I have honestly no way of verifying the truthfulness of such a statement, and I’m glad I don’t. (Not for accountability reasons, but because I think it would step too deep into a person’s privacy). I am aware of the fact that this may be wishful thinking. However, I also know I have only limited control over the situation — after all, I am sure there are people who read my work and otherwise leave nothing behind, either here or on Ao3.
Summary:
You shouldn’t read NSFW fiction not because you are a minor, but because (as a minor) you lack the framework to navigate through it — you are unlikely to be able to spot inaccuracies depicted in it, misinformation, stereotypes, and otherwise hurtful messages. This may affect the expectations and standards you have later on in life — it could lead to disappointment and, in worse cases, being hurt.
This isn’t about intelligence. You will simply lack the necessary experience. This is fine. Give yourself time to grow and learn.
NSFW fiction is just fantasy of the author and may have very little to do with the reality.
NSFW works should never, never, never replace proper age-appropriate sex-education. Even if an author tries to stay true to the reality, it is still just their fantasy and inaccuracies may occur. Authors are not educators.
Puberty does spike up the curiosity in regard to sex. Especially if you did not have any sort of sexual education — do not replace it with fanfiction. Do look for resources online. Do make sure to check whether the source is credible, or whether the information is cited in other places too. It is okay to be curious, but again, fanfiction isn’t an educational resource.
It isn’t humanly possible for authors to check every single person interacting with their work and to verify whether they’re a minor with 100% accuracy. Tags and warnings do exist for a reason. You must take responsibility for your experience online and, the same way you wouldn’t interact with triggering content, you shouldn’t interact with things which are potentially harmful to you.
#update#lorei is still alive and honestly very anxious about posting this#but oh well#i tried my best to word it properly and it's not like im not anxious overall
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That last post got super long so I’m breaking it into another post - the post I’m responding too also had everybody in the tags clowning on final fantasy tactics advance, and while the game’s incompetent writing makes it low-hanging fruit, I’m gonna get back on my soapbox and argue yet again that the problem is that FFTA is a game that’s trying to copy Western children’s isekai stories without really understanding how and why they work. I cite The Neverending Story the book every time i talk about it because the game is just PEAK “trying to copy the plot of TNS when you don’t understand any of the mechanics of why TNS works or the themes it’s trying to explore”, down to the one shitty boy reading like a straight up knockoff of Bastian. The second half of the book is specifically all about how Bastian treating his adventure like his own personal power fantasy leads to him at best doing really stupid shit to show off that only makes the fantasy world worse, at worst it corrupts and nearly destroys him, depriving him of all that anchors him to reality and nearly damning him to an eternity in hell among all the other ex-isekai protagonists who lost their way. The thematic conclusion of the book is the exact point I mentioned in that last post - Bastian learns and grows and gains love, and brings that love back home with him so he can help his father and home world heal.
FFTA’s problem is it takes all the surface level tropes in TNS, ditches the meat of the themes that make TNS work, and then adds a bunch of new tropes like “one of the shitty bratty kids is a disabled kid whose granted wish in the fantasy world is that he can walk and where going home would make him disabled again” that all break the stuff they did borrow. Marche spends the whole game trying to drag his friends back home because something something too much escapism isn’t healthy, but the game is written by a bunch of cowards who aren’t as hardcore as Michael Ende, so it never really goes into detail as to why the kids being in the fantasy world is unhealthy. The kids being in Ivalice isn’t bad because Fantasy Bad, it’s bad because they’re treating the place like their own personal theme park where they can do whatever the hell they want, and it’s screwing things up for the people who actually live there (something made worse because now they’ve also dragged their hometown into this mess to be NPCs and mooks to beat up). Their experiences in the fantasy world aren’t making them grow as people, it’s turning them into a bunch of horrible brats who treat their friend like dogshit, and they need an intervention right now to set them back on the right path. Marche has every right to stage that intervention and drag everyone back home, the problem is rather than actually really dive into these reasons, the game just goes “Uhhhhhhhhhh..... escapism bad???????” and makes Marche look like a goddamn idiot, because the writers genuinely don’t understand the message they’re trying to copy. Combined with shit like the aforementioned “disabled kid would like to Not Be Disabled” and “the fantasy world is all a dream for some reason??????” and the message was ruined from minute 1. Which is a damn shame.
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JBBarnesNNoble's 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021
Hello lovely people! And welcome to the 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge. The aim of this challenge is to shine a light on mental health, medical conditions, and the things that can have impacts on us. This started out initially being a PCOS Awareness challenge last year but through conversations with other writers over Discord, it evolved into a Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge last year. I’m reusing some of the unused prompts from last year’s challenge and adding in some new ones!
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The goal of this challenge is to lift each other up, and show that it’s okay not to be okay. Spread some love and light during a challenging time in the world to those who struggle with chronic illness, depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, grief, PCOS, acceptance from their families and communities for being LGBT+, and anyone struggling with insecurity.
This challenge will run through July 31st, 2021. It will run through Mental Health Awareness Month, Pride Month, and the month of July to give people time to write. You can submit it at any time. I probably have too many prompts, but I wanted to ensure that there was a wide array to choose from. Please don’t hesitate to message me if I haven’t interacted with your fic after a few days! Sometimes the tag system doesn’t work and I miss things!
The Rules:
1. Utilize resources available online if you’re dealing with subject matter you’re not that familiar with. I’m not going to go all “cite sources” on y’all, but please do make sure to do your research. Writing about some of these issues can be hard if you don’t have first hand knowledge of how it can affect you. The goal of this challenge is to write about topics that we tend to shy away from, that many of us struggle with, from mental health struggles to chronic illnesses to low-self esteem. A gentle reminder that if you think writing about a subject will be triggering for you, please look after yourself first.
2. Use #JBBNNMHAM21 to tag your fic
3. Dark!Fic- Due to the subject matter involved in this challenge, please don’t submit dark!fic. I enjoy dark fics, but this challenge isn’t the place for them.
4. Smut- Smut is welcome! Make sure you tag it appropriately.
5. No inc*st, dubcon/noncon, underage, etc
6. Ships- I prefer reader inserts, but show me what ya got.
7. NO JOHN WALKER FICS. Please. Please no. I beg of you.
8. Selecting Prompts: Just let me know which one you want to do! 2 people per prompt! The song prompts have a line from them under it. You DO NOT need to use the line in your submission! It’s mostly to help you decide if you’re interested in a song before you take a listen to it.
You also can alter the sentence and dialogue prompts as needed for grammar, be it altering the pronouns used or changing the pluralization of a word.
9. Trigger Warnings: Use warnings as needed. Fics dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or other mental health issues should be tagged appropriately to ensure that readers that may be triggered by the subject matter can avoid the fic. Trigger warnings are non-negotiable
The prompts are under the cut!
Prompts:
Dialogue Prompts:
“I feel like if I let go, if I move on, I’ll only be proving them right.”
“I don’t know. Am I? Because from where I’m standing it’s pretty damn clear that’s how you see me.”
“You don’t believe that do you? Tell me you don’t. Please.”
“It’d probably be easier if you left”
“Please leave me alone”
“Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person to have those broken pieces.” @nekoannie-chan
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll take that shake now.”
“What’s the point if I’m going to end up breaking that promise too?”
“You sure about that, moonman?”
“It made you smile though. And that will always be a win in my book.”
“That’s not true. And I will tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”
Sentence Prompts:
Feel free to adjust the pronouns as needed
It was a day. It was the only way it could be described.
Summer had a smell that reminded her of innocence and a time long since past.
In that moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis as it all shattered down around her.
Some things, there would never be a way to understand. @justrunamok
Like shattered glass, in that moment the illusion was broken.
Forever was a lie, just like everything else.
If you had another condescending doctor tell you your problem wasn’t a problem you were going to scream.
They’d say it was easy, like riding a bike. Except, you never learned how to ride a bike in the first place.
Today was going to be good. It had to be.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was going south.
AU and Trope Prompts:
Soulmate @samsgoddess
College
Childhood Friends @tellmealovestory
Friends to Lovers
Enemies to Lovers
Musicians
Writer
Professional Athlete
Teacher
Coffee Shop
Fake Dating
Accidental Marriage
Royal
Librarian
Doctor
Song Prompts:
1. Nobody Ever Told You - Carrie Underwood
Lyric Snippet: “Wish you could see yourself the way I do. Nobody ever told you, nobody ever told you. Shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you”
2. Missing You - All Time Low
Lyric Snippet: “And if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds. I heard that you’ve been, having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts. But if you need a friend, then please just say the word.”
3. Barefoot and Bruised - Jamestown Story
Lyric Snippet: “Maybe when your sky comes crashing down, I can be your angel on the ground. If you get tired and can’t go on, I will carry you along, when the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes, when you’re barefoot and bruised”
4. Hold On Till May- Pierce the Veil
Lyric Snippet: “If were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”
5. If I Surrender - Citizen Soldier
Lyric Snippet: “If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me, will it set me free?”
6. Home - Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, Beba Rexha
Lyric Snippet: “All these miles, feet, inches, they can’t add up to the distance that I have been through just to get to a place where even if there’s no closure I’m still safe. I still ache from trying to keep pace. Somebody give me a sign, I’m starting to lose faith”
7. Broken Arrows - Daughtry
Lyric Snippet: “The best of intentions I lay at your feet. And I need you to see past the worst part of me.”
8. Used - Serious Matters
Lyric Snippet: “The wounds are gone and the pain still lingers. But this time I won’t stand by, I don’t need you in my life”
9. According to You - Orianthi
Lyric Snippet: “According to you, I’m stupid, I’m useless, I can’t do anything right”
10. Let It Land - Tonight Alive
Lyric Snippet: “And everything we hate is something we just bought along the line”
11. Cold As You - Taylor Swift
Lyric Snippet: “You put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey. And I stood there loving you and wished them all away. And you come away with a great little story, of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”
12. Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift
Lyric Snippet: “Hold on, baby you’re losing it. The water’s high, you’re jumping into it, and letting go, and no one knows. That you cry but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one. And you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”
13. Human Interaction - Tonight Alive
Lyric Snippet: “I don’t know love. I don’t know hate. I am numb. Wish I could find the words to say. Asking please, as colors fade. I need to breathe. Before I turn the world to grey.”
14. Therapy - All Time Low
Lyric Snippet: “Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty, but I’m smiling at everything. Therapy you were never a friend to me, and you can keep all your misery”
15. Scars - Alison Iraheta
Lyric Snippet: “Do you know how hard I’ve tried to become what you want me to be. Take me, this is all that I’ve got, this is all that I’m not, all that I’ll ever be. I got flaws, I got faults, keep searching for your perfect heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, we’ve all got our scars”
16. Hurts to Know - 1551
Lyric Snippet: “I can’t remember what I did to earn you by my side. I can’t surrender. I’ll fight as long as you’re in my life”
17. Spinning Bottles - Carrie Underwood
Lyric Snippet: “He’s in a hotel room, with the tv on. Getting lost in the static with the curtains drawn, knowing this could be the time that gets her gone for good, he’d quit if he could. But one down, two down, three down, four, can’t even recognize the man in the mirror anymore”
18. Praying - Kesha
Lyric Snippet: “Well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come. ‘Cause I can make it on my own. And I don’t need you, I found a strength I’ve never known.”
19. Jersey On the Wall (I’m Just Asking) - Tenille Townes
Lyric Snippet: “If I ever get to heaven, you know I got a long list of questions. Like how do you make a snowflake, are you angry when the earth quakes? How does the sky change in a minutes, how do you keep this big rock spinning? Why can’t you stop a car from crashing? Forgive me, I’m just asking”
20. Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery
Lyric Snippet: “Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Oh, but they just keep on flying right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had me a, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. Give myself five more minutes”
21. Dad’s Old Number - Cole Swindell
Lyric Snippet: “Sometimes I forget, these ten digits ain’t my lifeline anymore. Every now and then I dial them up when life gets tough or when the Braves score. Sorry about the one ring hang ups, early morning and late night wake ups. It was just me. In case you wondered, you’ve got dad’s old number.”
22. The Other Side - Lauren Alaina
Lyric Snippet: “There’s gonna be a lot of sadness on a lot of happy days, I’ll try to think of this moment, this place”
23. I Was Here - Beyonce
Lyric Snippet: “So they won’t forget I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here. I did, I’ve done, everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.”
24. Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan
Lyric Snippet: “Like a shooting star, flying across the room. So fast, so far, you were gone too soon. You’re a part of me. And I’ll never be the same here without you. You were gone too soon.”
25. Amelia - Tonight Alive
Lyric Snippet: “And you will always be perfect, you’ll always be beautiful, our hearts, will never forget you. You didn’t belong here, and it’s become so clear why heaven called your name.”
26. Heaven Right Now - Thomas Rhett
Lyric Snippet: “When the whole crew gets together, memory lane goes on forever. We twist a top and pour a little Jack D out.”
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