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missingexaltation · 2 years

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Fic idea (because I can't get enough of rockstar!Eddie, apparently)

Steve and Eddie try dating, but it quickly goes nowhere as Steve is just too busy. If he's not driving the kids around, he's doing chores for Mrs Henderson, or hanging out with Robin, or at work. And the free time he DOES have never correlates to when Eddie's free. They keep missing each other and Steve finally (gently) breaks up with Eddie because they just never see each other.

A few weeks pass and Steve misses him so much it hurts. Even the hour or so at a time that they used to get would be enough. And it's not forever, maybe soon they could move in together, get their own place and see each other all the time. And the girls are off to college soon, so that's MORE time together. He was an idiot to break up.

He goes to the new Munson house to try and get Eddie back only to find out that he's gone. Wayne tells him that he's going to Cali with Jonathan and Argyle, and that's that.

Steve's devastated.

The next time Nancy goes to see Jonathan he and Robin tag along, but Eddie's not there. Jonathan hasn't seen him in a few days, he's busy with his new band, and they're actually really good. Steve spends the rest of the time in Cali hoping Eddie will show up...but he doesn't. Steve goes home to Hawkins feeling worse than ever.

A few weeks later, Nancy excitedly tells him that Jonathan said that Eddie's band has been signed up, or signed on, or something, and that's a big fucking deal. They're recording an album and they might hear him on the radio, and Eddie might be famous.

It IS a big deal, Steve DOES hear him on the radio, and the band DOES get famous.

It happens too quickly for Steve to deal with, and shuts himself down a little. He still misses Eddie so much, and now there's no chance he'll ever see him again. He's just a dumbass with no future, and Eddie's out there living his best life as making his dreams come true. Robin and Nancy leave for college at the same time this all happens, and Steve's left hating himself for being stuck behind.

He hears the band's debut single all the time, but he tries not to focus on it. Their singer is really good, she's the main focus, but all Steve can hear is Eddie in the backing vocals and guitar and its too much.

Jonathan invites them all back to Cali for one of the band's shows, (they're only the support act but still, it's the support for a really famous rock band), and Steve agrees to go. He stands in the crowd, surrounded by people in black, leather and chic, and hates himself a tiny bit more. This is Eddie's world and he doesn't fit in it, doesn't belong in it.

The show is spectacular, leagues above what corroded coffin used to do, and Steve's eyes don't leave Eddie once. After the band leaves the stage, Jonathan drags them all backstage, though Steve tries to leave, and for the first time in months Steve comes face to face with his ex.

Eddie's bouncing around, on some adrenaline high, laughing his head off until he sees Steve. His smile drops and he looks like the devastated boy that Steve had left broken hearted all those months ago. And if Steve didn't hate himself before, he does now. That's the effect he has on the guy he loves, just the sight of him upsets Eddie. So instead of saying anything...he chickens out and runs.

He doesn't expect Eddie to follow him, but he does, dragging them both into an empty room. Steve can't even get a word out before he just flings himself into Eddie's arms and sobs. He says a lot of things as he cries, trying to explain himself, but none of it makes any sense to his own ears. Eddie clings to him in return, and it's not until Steve's composed himself that he realises that Eddie's crying too.

They just cling to each other until someone comes to tell Eddie that they're leaving for the hotel, and Eddie insists that Steve comes too. They spend the night together, figuring themselves out, and it all comes to a head when Eddie asks if Steve had heard their single. Steve says he has and that he...likes it? Eddie laughs at him softly and cuddles him closer.

It's about Steve, he explains, because of course it is. It's the song that Eddie had written both before and after they'd broken up. It's a song about being completely in love...but then dealing with being broken hearted. And apparently it struck a chord with both the talent scout that had 'discovered' them, and the rest of the world that related to it enough to make it popular.

They agree to try again.

Eddie's band don't warm to him for some time, and neither does Wayne, but Steve's right by Eddie's side as the band goes from a small-time support band to full rockstars in their own right over the next few years. He's not making the same mistake twice, and neither is Eddie. They both let go too easily the first time, and they won't let go again.

Steve and Eddie get 'unlawfully married' on their fifth anniversary in '91, and finally gains Wayne's acceptance. The band have also gotten used to him by this point, and jokingly refer to him as the 'non musical' member of the band.

An injury to both the band's vocalist and drummer brings the band to a natural end in '06. The band's popularity carries on though a very vocal cult fanbase due to a) their singer and rhythm guitarist being two of the few venerated women in their genre and b) Eddie being very open about his sexuality and 'unlawful husband'.

Eddie settles down with Steve in a quiet part of the country, and finds himself at a bit of a loss. It's not until he rediscovers D&D that he finds purpose again, and ends up writing a few campaigns that get published. His fame is good for something after all.

Steve suggests he test them out on the old Hellfire club (because of course Steve's still in contact with most of them), and by 2010 the gang's permanently back together. They sometimes play D&D in person, but most of it's through Skype.

One of the club suggests (after a particularly hilarious session) that they record it for a podcast, and although it starts slow, because of Eddie's fame it soon gets pretty popular. Every member of the club gets their own little fanbase and merch (even Steve, as the long suffering 'normal hubby').

Eddie's happy, Steve's happy, and they get legally married in 2016, on their 30th anniversary.

#steddie #rockstar!eddie #professional groupie!Steve #it all comes back to d&d and Hellfire in the end!#i also love the idea of Eddie being in a band with a female vocalist...more ladies in rock please and thanks!#sad start but then domestic bliss (on tour)#Wayne doesn't like people that break his boy's heart...but Steve proves himself in the end #eddie munson #steve harrington

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llondonfog · 28 days

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OK so Baul and Lilias friendship lives in my mind rent free, so I think that a few days after silver gets sick for the first time and mama and papa zigvolt manage to teach lilia the proper way to care for a sick infant after he comes over to their house tembling with poorly restrained panic, Baul goes over with v little persuasion from his daughter to check up on them.

What he sees is a happy and healthy Silver just quietly smiling up at him from Lilias arms while Lilia is passed out in his rocking chair fevered and red from catching baby's first cold.

Baul immediately assigns himself caretaker duties, doesn't even bother trying to move Silver from Lilias arms and instead just picks them both up to deposit them both in Lilias bed for a proper nap before checking the fridge for tomato soup ingredients.

When he first heard from his daughter that Lilia— Lilia Vanrouge, the once General of the Right, feared commander of the fae armies and scourge of humankind— had adopted a human child and had been caring for it for several months now, Baul had roared with laughter so hard that he split a scale wide open on his cheek.

It was certainly a poor excuse for a joke, the very kind of rumor that the castle fae still bitter over Lilia's persistent existence four hundred years later might spread. The very idea that Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge, would debase himself to care for a human child not of his blood, to stoop so low as to toil over its screeching and wailing demands when he had bathed in the screams of its own kind with a mad vengeance after the tragedy of Lady Meleanor . . . not even four hundred years of honeyed peace was enough to sweeten that wound.

Time, it seemed, had forgotten what was so cruelly emblazoned in the very depths of Baul's mind, in Lilia's own memories, and the nightmares of all those surviving fae who stalked the forests during those blood-soaked nights. Those born in kinder years had never known the horror of human avarice, and even his own daughter had taken up residence with one of their kind despite her father's immense displeasure, simpering, soft-hearted fool that her husband was.

At least, to Baul's proud credit, their lineage rippled strong and true through his grandchildren— and with his daughter due any day under the weight of a third, he's only too certain for another healthy, bouncing, scaled Zigvolt.

So when she had simply stared back at him with crossed arms and an arched brow while he had laughed and laughed and laughed, a sinking kind of horror began to creep into his heart— surely . . . she wasn't serious?

Months— hardly the blink of an eye for faekind, but everything to humans. Months, Lilia had kept a child for several months, and not once had tried to rid himself of it? Not once tried to deposit it upon the stoop of a human village and wipe his hands clean of the responsibility of child-rearing? He had been taking advice from Baul's daughter and her wisp of a husband on how to pacify and coddle it? He had barged into their home, fretful beyond measure with a colicky babe clutched in his arms, and all but demanded them to cure the child?

("Or what?" Baul found himself asking, utterly bewildered and needing to find some kernel of normalcy in the fact that surely Lilia had menaced his daughter's husband some into obeying his whims.

"Or nothing, Father," she said, the taunting ghost of a knowing smile playing about her lips. "In all the years that I've known him, I've never seen him quite so distraught. He stayed by the crib all night, frozen— we had to tell him it was alright to breathe and to hold Silver's hand if he wanted, it was as if he was afraid to hurt him.")

Silver? Lilia, afraid? Holding the hand of some human child?

It simply couldn't be true.

It couldn't be, this had to be some elaborate, poorly executed prank.

He clung to that belief even as his daughter shoved a bundle of medicine, food, and knitted blankets into his arms with the stern instruction to deliver them to Lilia's home (Home! He had never heard the forest cottage to be described in such terms! The place was a hovel, a storage shed for Lilia to dump his treasures before venturing off to the next location, how could it be considered a home?).

He clung to it even as he emerged from the woods to the path that led up to the cottage's door, casting unnerved glances to the strange and new abundance of woodland creatures skulking about the thatched roof and scampering along the thick tree trunk supporting the cottage like a lean-to, soft little animals that would have darted away in fright from Lilia's presence before Baul's own.

He clung to it until he could no more, when he threw open the cottage door with an odd tightness in his chest to see his oldest friend collapsed on a worn and lumpy armchair with a honest-to-goodness human baby snuggled safely within his arms and sucking happily on a stray piece of ruby-stained hair. Beyond them, a soothing glow flickered in the fireplace where a kettle of milk quietly steamed, and the scattered presence of cloth toys littered the living room floor along with (Baul shuddered) well-thumbed pamphlets, their covers illustrated with the cheerful faces of frolicking human children.

What had this child done to Lilia Vanrouge?

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lenateliier · 1 year

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"A family I could truly call my own" what if I ended it all what if chapters 62-65 were my last straw please....

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babygirllinds · 1 year

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The Polaroid Mav took of Ice one early morning as he talked to Slider on the phone. He tucked it in his wallet as soon as it developed fully and stares at it to remind himself of the love he’s come to know. He looks at it on bad days, running his fingers over the wrinkles and memorizes the smile he’s come to fall in love with every day.

He tucks it in plain sight of his plane before every mission and promises to come home to that face for the rest of his life, kissing it before going up in the air and kissing it when he lands. When he comes home each time, Ice is there with that same bright smile and open arms, pulling him in for a sweet kiss and the promise of forever.

click here for Ice’s Polaroid of Mav

#icemav #iceman #Maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun #tg86 #top gun fandom #polaroid #i love these domestic boys #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #mav x ice #maverick x iceman #pete mitchell x tom kazansky #pete maverick mitchell x tom iceman kazansky #your honor they're in love #val kilmer

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mystery-box-gifs · 2 years

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🪴 Plant Dad 🪴

#the devil judge #devil judge #kim gaon #kim ga on #park jinyoung #jinyoung #tdj ep 01 #tdj ep 08 #tdj ep 10 #they were really like here's a boy full of domestic hobbies that are all trauma related #and I love that

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turnabout-soda · 5 months

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best dad. (after phoenix, of course)

#ace attorney #wrightworth #narumitsu #miles edgeworth #trucy wright #domestic fluff #i love my boys #and trucy

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virgincels · 6 months

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FYI, I would NEVER .EVER. condone domestic abuse but I actually had this little idea when I was daydreaming myself to sleep. Basically how Leon can beat the shit out of you, out of nowhere too. Like you thought he was the most perfect and loving boyfriend of husband you could have and one day he just snaps. You’ll be like bawling out crying with a bloody nose, red marks on your eyes and cheeks that will grow into nasty bruises and a horrible busted lip. You’ll try your absolutely hardest to fight back (cuz we don’t just soak that shit in and take it, finna do what we can even if it ain’t shit) and he’ll just snap out of it and he kicks into some sick type of mindset. He’ll grab you by neck or hair and force you down on the nearest flat space that he can fuck you, whether it be the counter, table, desk, idk. But he’ll just rip your panties off and go straight at it with you, unlubricated and still having hella adrenaline. He will coo so many fantasies and apologies that don’t seem as if he’ll keep it with the way he’s treating you right now, he fucks like he does when y’all are in bed (rough but loving) and before it felt so nice and now it’s just down tight terrifying. It hurts the way he just slams into you, your clit just seems to ache for some reason too. It’s just horrible. By the time he’s done, you’re still sobbing with your tears and spit mixing in with your blood (busted nose and lip for ya) while he’s cooing at you again gently, rubbing your back and trying to soothe you as if he wasn’t the asshole who did it to you, he’s a domestic abuser in your eyes now and you know that you have to somehow get out now before you’re baby trapped and married with a domestic abuser.

ANON OK SO THIS IS ONE OF MY MOST FAVOURITE THINGS EVER I think of this all the time but haven’t talked ab it here bc of how people react :3 but to me super sweet guy who turns out to be a fucking control freak scumbag? misplaced anger that always comes out towards you? ugh just grabbing you, knocking you around, smacking your head against the wall? and taking you whenever he wants UGDHSJDB don’t get me started it’s my favourite thing ever and the fact that when you flinch if he makes the slightest movement - he finds it funny. jumps just to make you jump bc it makes him keel over laughing :3 just gross man who gets off on your misery

#tw noncon #tw abuse #tw domestic abuse #inbox 💌#all I talk to my friends ab is getting knocked around by my boy of the week :3 I love you so much #love letters

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hitlikehammers · 3 months

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whole wide world

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, teacher! Steve, gooey-clingy-heart-eyes Eddie needs his Stevie ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, amateur musicals, steve needs to stop using a ladder unsupervised because nothing bad happened this time but eddie is concerned that is the love of his life, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day thirteen: Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️ (@steddieas-shegoes)

look who's back, just like every other day, it's the rockstar husbands from je ne regrette rien being their codependent, desperately-in-love selves again! ♥️

“Goddamnit,” Steve curses the staple gun, the dry-rotted wood he’s trying to use it on, the acrylic-covered tarp masquerading as a backdrop leaving little crackle-dust everywhere every single time it fucking falls because the wood’s shit, the staples are shit, his co-advisor’s kid’s sick with the flu, the kids are in the band room rehearsing the opening number and Steve really cannot fucking believe he got roped into this to begin with, actually, like, how the fuck did the middle school guidance-counselor-slash-study-hall-monitor get conned into helping with the high school drama club, just because one of his JV soccer players landed the lead and bemoaned loudly enough during laps how they didn’t know if they’d be able to make the performance even work, because the choir teacher’s on maternity leave and the band director’s kind of a dick, and the needed more help—

Steve only is even in the high school for the goddamn athletics office. For, y’know, the equipments for the athletes.

Yet: here he is. Standing on a rusty fucking ladder that probably needs a spotter, to be honest, and if Steve’s admitting that then yeah, it definitely needs someone holding the goddamn thing, but here he is, already two hours after the final bell, trying to stick a painting of mattressesin a stack that only vaguely looks like mattresses so thank god that’s in the show title—

The ladder wobbles a little when he tries to catch the tarp-thing again but he can’t reach far enough without risking a long way down to a very hard stage floor, so the backdrop’s sacrificed back to the ground—a-fucking-gain—as he shifts his weight to steady the steps and it’s a close thing, he’s about ninety-seven percent sure he’s aimed the teetering feet of it back to solid ground okay but he glances around quick just in case, tries to figure if there’s anything he can grab for and let the ladder go on its own if need-be, and—

“That’s fucking dangerous, big boy,” a deep, and deeply unexpected, voice trails up from the floor, clipped with stress, with fear because Steve fucking knows that voice, and the ladder’s suddenly fully steady so he can turn and look and—

“Gonna give me a goddamn stroke or something, finding you up on one of these all by your lonesome,” Eddie’s staring up at him, and the words could be teasing, and Steve thinks maybe they intend to be, but: those eyes are too big. There’s a pulse Steve can count in that throat, even from seven-feet-up.

So he does what any man in love with his husband would do in the face of said-husband in fear, and for him: Steve climbs down careful, but quick, with Eddie’s hands scrambling to make sure of the ‘careful’ part as soon as he can reach, and then he turns, and then he lands on solid ground again to pull Eddie in and thank every colleague of his he’d been cursing in his mind for leaving him alone to do all this shit, because alone is the reason he gets to kiss his lover hard, and full; wrap around him and let him squeeze Steve to the point where it aches, where it creaks in his bones, like proof.

Lets Eddie attach his lips to suck a bruise, possessive and needy and protective all at once along his throat, and yeah:

Exactly like proof.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks when they pull apart just the slightest bit, because he wasn’t expecting Eddie to be home until probably close-on to midnight, let alone at the school well before five.

“Thought you could maybe use an extra set of hands,” Eddie shrugs like it’s a casual thing, showing up just to help out when he’s on a press cycle, and it’s evident even in his attire that that’s the case, if you know what to look for: more chains from his jeans, thicker soles on his boots just flirting with being platforms, at least two rings on every finger—save just one.

One has a ring, and a carefully-preserved and repeatedly-reinforced bread-bag tie: both serving the same purpose in very different points in their lives.

Point being: Eddie was wading through photoshoots and magazine spreads and radio spots and every fucking thing, and no matter how high he’s raising his eyebrow in a clear calling out of how he found Steve atop a shaky ladder as being obvious evidence of having use of an extra set of hands, the fact remains:

“But you’ve got the interview—“ the big ass interview with that shock-jock guy Steve kinda hates, but that’s a big fucking deal, and was the precise reason Steve wasn’t lamenting giving up his afternoon and evening to the at-least-halfway-to-lost-cause of the not-even-an-actual-full-fledged-theatre department: he wasn’t going to have Eddie home before bed anyway.

And yet: here stands the man.

“The boys have got it,” Eddie shrugs, like he actually doesn’t give a shit, and that’s…he does give a shit, he had sounded excited about it last night when they’d talked about their plans for the week over dinner, when Steve had bemoaned the travesty of this fucking production of Once Upon A Boxspring or whatever, and Eddie’d told him he was pretty sure he was going to be able to say fuck on the show even if they’d edit it, like he wouldn’t get in trouble, and he’d looked like a kid in a goddamn candy shop about it so yeah: Steve thinks he kinda did give a shit.

But he’s…not there.

“Gareth’s been itching to take the reins after he won out the final track list,” Eddie offers as explanation; “cocky bastard.”

And they collaborate on all the writing, music and lyrics, they’re not even the slightest bit competitive about it which would be hard to believe if all you saw of the members of Corroded Coffin were their goddamn shenanigans during a campaign; but the one think in their music that they docompete over?

Whose title-idea gets the opener on a given album. And Gareth did end up scooping them all when the execs came back with a shuffle. Steve had watched it unfold in real time; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a grown man crow like Gareth had, and he is married to Edward fucking Munson.

So that’s saying something.

“Eds,” Steve tries to prod a little at the point of it all though, because Eddie’s got press, and this is a high school, and probably Eddie could get to the studio in time to catch the end of whatever, it’s prerecorded, he knows that much, they could squeeze a live interview in so they could probably do Eddie at the end and just shuffle it around, right, it’s easy, and that’s so much more important than this because this:

“Eds, it’s just a—“

“It’s the spring musical, baby,” Eddie says like he’s announcing the arrival of the president, of the Queen of England, then his eyes soften a little as he flicks at one of the real mattresses that will, presumably, be props for the actors if the show’s title isn’t a fucking lie: “you know that’s where my DM throne had its humble origins, before I elevated it to greatness?”

Steve did know that, not least because they’d smuggled Eddie in to DM a few special sessions before the gremlins graduated, and he’d taken his seat with regal aplomb every time, and Steve had learned that yeah, they used the random storage room that was mostly drama shit for Hellfire.

And the way he’d learned that was by sucking Eddie off hidden by some very ratty but very conveniently poofy ballgowns from a production of Cinderella.

“I missed you.”

Steve turns to him and blinks; Eddie’s eyes are on the mattress, his stance almost a little shy.

“You saw me this morning,” Steve doesn’t ask, exactly, but he…he’s not sure he’s following, is the thing.

“I was,” Eddie sighs, and flops to sit down on the mattress which, thankfully, is a mattress and gives a little, bounces under him.

“I was just feeling, I dunno,” he gives a shrug that fades into something like a shiver, and then Eddie’s arms come around too hug around his middle as he ducks his chin and, oh no.

None of that.

“I thought about you being, you know, you,” and Eddie gets to gesture at the mess of the stage only halfway before Steve’s catching his hand, lacing their fingers and pulling Eddie back up to standing, then back into Steve’s arms here he leans heavy, sighs deeper this time; relief instead of something shallow.

“Just you doing all this when you don’t even have a horse in the race, y’know?” Eddie muffles into the side of Steve’s neck, burrowed in tight. “And I was supposed to be in the zone about press and shit, and it just,” he shakes his head, which is more like the brush of his lips back and forth against Steve’s skin; “it wasn’t clicking at all, like I posed and did the looks and whatever,” and oh, Steve knows the looks, Steve has about half those looks printed out and framed in various parts of their home or tucked safe inside his wallet, whereas the other half he takes great joy in recreating at random to the chagrin of his darling husband, love of his whole goddamn life.

“Then Jeff asked if I wanted to duck out,” and Eddie smiles up at him, a little sheepish; they both know the boys can see right through Eddie feeling needy, or lovelorn; Steve’s grateful as shit for Eddie’s bandmates, their friends, for knowing when Eddie just needs Steve.

“I didn’t even think twice, just,” Eddie swallows hard, a little, peeking up through lashes and bangs as he exhales:

“Just wanted to see you before the middle of the fucking night.”

And what can Steve do in the face of that, really? He can’t argue it. Wouldn’t ever fucking want to.

“I love you,” he frames Eddie’s face and kiss the bridge of his nose, then soft between his brows as he breathes out with his whole heart: “so goddamn much.”

“Can you promise me you won’t do the,” Eddie tips his head behind them; “the ladder thing, at least not by yourself?” And Eddie’s eyes are so, so big again. “Like, pretty please, don’t do that again?”

“I won’t,” Steve swears it, and kisses him firm to seal the promise: “thanks for coming to the rescue.” Because there was a three percent chance Steve was going to wipe the fuck out from very very high, and he’s have survived it, but he’s not twenty anymore, and it would have fucking sucked, probably for a while.

“Always, baby,” Eddie murmurs, still tight against Steve lips before he straightens a little, and this time he’s framing Steve’s face, but more holding him still in place, emphatic:

“Actually, amendment,” he says seriously, eyes darting between Steve’s a tiny-touch frantic: “next time you need to be on a ladder, you call me first,” he damn-well declares it, rather than asks; “so I can hold it steady.”

“My hero,” Steve breathes against him with a smile, and there’s not even a hint of teasing in it.

“I don’t trust any other hands to catch you, baby,” Eddie tells him, a little too raw; full sincerity bleeding from him all the sudden as he caresses down the cheeks he’s still cupping: “no one else in the whole wide world appreciates what you’re worth.”

“And what’s that, exactly,” Steve scoffs a little, playful where he’s held in Eddie’s arms but Eddie: Eddie’s holding him tight, now, and his heartbeat’s heavy where he’s moving to crush Steve to his chest, and there’s a little wavering pitch of something in his voice when he whispers:

“The whole wide world,” and oh.

That’s the answer.

It’s Steve’s answer, too, to the same exact question, but hearing it said so plain never stops feeling like the ending and remaking of the whole wide world, every time.

So yeah, Steve has to take a minute to swallow through the tightness in his throat, and maybe he does that with his forehead bowed against his husbands so they breathe each other in as a rule just in the course of living in the moment, together—and when the straighten up Steve steals a kiss first, quick but hard, with feeling, before he cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the scene that’s settled around them.

“Help me try and figure this out to hang?” Steve kicks at the tarp-tapestry, and Eddie walks its perimeter critically before frowning up at Steve.

“Think it needs some touch ups,” he pronounces solemnly, and fuck, yeah, all the color-dust from the useless staple-holes and the falling. But his husband’s actually really good with details, and matching colors, and using a brush, and fantasy settings—

“Paint’s in the back,” he says with a lilt of suggestion and Eddie lights up and grabs Steve’s hand to drag him toward the promise of painting, like maybe all he needed really was just…this.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

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