Bassists

Thundercat: Tiny Desk Concert

Thundercat, born Stephen Bruner, is willing and able to shape-shift to fit into just about any box you show him — he just won’t stay in there for long. Whether fusing his talent for jazz while a bassist with punk legacy act Suicidal Tendencies or as a member of Snoop Dogg’s band — maybe running a little too far with a solo here and there — the focus seems to eventually drift his way.

Watch.

SWEATY PALMS CH3

Summary: “DESPERATE NEED: BASSIST. NO SHIT TASTE IN MUSIC. PLUS: BE HOT.” That was all the flyer had said along with a location. Eddie would usually never go to some random club to try out for a band full of people he didn’t know, but his therapist DID tell him to take some more risks.

Read Ch 1 HERE, Ch 2 HERE

Pairings: Reddie, slight Mike/Stan/Bill

Warnings: internalized homophobia, vomit, hints to sexual content. (please remember that these characters are all over the ages of 21)

Thank you AGAIN @losvcr so much for being my beta for this. What would I do without you??

Taglist: @just-an-akward-fangirl, @hauntedtozier, @achievehuntress, @my-son-richie-tozier, @decaffeinatedpostmoon, @rhubarberous, @littletwinstxrs, @bl0w-ur-dad

The warm skin that Eddie had felt in his hands was replaced with cold porcelain. His knuckles went white as he lurched forward, his stomach emptying once again. Eddie tried to remember what had lead up to this; he had downed some vodka and now he was here. At least the hand on his back let Eddie know he wasn’t alone.

“Damn Eds, you gonna make it?” Richie snorted, continuing to rub circles into his back.

Maybe he would rather be alone. This was so embarrassing. Eddie groaned as his memories rushed back.

Eddie and Richie’s heavy breathing synced together as the music stopped, Richie pressing his forehead to the smaller man’s.

“Holy shit, Eds. Didn’t peg you for the dancing type.” He rested his hands on Eddie’s waist, rubbing exposed skin with his thumbs.

“Me neither.” Eddie let out a breathy laugh, lightly pressing back against Richie’s forehead. He had never felt this free before. His head was spinning. His fingers were tingling. He felt a bit nauseous. Richie pulled back with a concerned look on his face.

“You alright, Eddie? You don’t look so good.” He smoothed back Eddie’s hair before pressing a hand to his forehead.

“R-Richie…I don’t feel so hot..” Before Richie had the chance to back away Eddie was hurling onto his shirt.

“Oh, gross! Alright okay, everyone make some space!” Richie had dealt with puke before, he was in a band after all. Richie ushered Eddie upstairs and to the bathroom.

Eddie groaned, his dread being realized has he looked over Richie’s vomit covered shirt.

“Oh god, Richie, I’m sorry.” He mumbled out, resting his forehead in his hand.

“Don’t worry about it Eds, you were really cool.” Richie kept his hand on Eddie’s back.

“I puked on you, that’s not cool.” He wanted to die right there.

“Eddie, listen. You drank like a champ and were the best dance partner I’ve probably ever had.” Richie flashed him a huge grin and Eddie felt his heart squeeze.

“Really?” Eddie couldn’t help but smile. Richie nodded, scooting closer to him and moving his hand from Eddie’s back to rest on his shoulder. He couldn’t help his gaze from landing on Eddie’s lips. Richie had just watched this guy puke his guts out, why’d he want to kiss him so bad?

There was a knock on the doorframe and both their heads whipped up.

Mike stood in the doorway a glass of water in hand.

“Am I interrupting?” He smirked at Richie who was shaking his head furiously.

“Nah. Han my man, what’s up?” He slowly stood, resting his hand gently on top of Eddie’s head.

“Just wanted to bring this poor kid some water.” Mike’s gaze shifted to Eddie with a soft smile as he walked over to crouch down next to the poor man still kneeling next to the toilet. He held out the glass of water.

“You feeling any better?”

Eddie’s shaky hands took the glass, pressing it to his lips lightly.

“Yeah, thank you.” He nodded before realization struck, he hadn’t just puked on Richie but on the floor as well. “I have to go clean that up!”

Mike shook his head. “It’s alright, I already took care of it.” Eddie’s cheeks went red.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. That must have been so gross.” He took a small sip of water as Mike laughed.

“It’s alright, I used to work on a farm. I’ve seen a lot worse than a little puke.” Mike smiled wider as Eddie continued with the apologizes.

Richie gently curled his fingers in Eddie’s soft hair, sending chills down his spine. He was about to thank Mike again for about the hundredth time when their attention was brought to a door opening across the hall.

Eddie’s face nearly turned beet red watching what was happening in front of them. Bill had Stan pinned against the open door, trailing kisses down his neck. Both the men’s hands were trying to remove the other person’s shirt as fast as they could. Bill only pulled away to pull his shirt over his head, moving back into what Eddie could only guess was their bedroom.

Stan watched the other man with a look that made Eddie’s insides tighten.

Should I be watching this?

Suddenly, Stan turned his attention over to them; more specifically Mike. A grin broke out over Stan’s face as he pointed to the now blushing Mike, making a calling motion with his finger. Mike stood quickly, brushing his hands over his pants.

“Well have a good night you two. Feel better Eddie!” He quickly made his way to Stan and Eddie could barely make out what the curly-haired man said as Mike closed the door behind him, but he heard it.

“Did you really think we’d start without you?”

Eddie stared into his glass of water, his cheeks still flushed while Richie sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched Eddie squirm.

“Does that stuff make you uncomfortable?” Richie stared him down.

“Sex? I’m not a kid, Richie.” Eddie couldn’t look up from the glass.

“No I mean- does it make you uncomfortable ‘cause they’re all guys?” Eddie shrunk in on himself, trying to ignore his mother’s words bouncing around in his head.

Faggots! Disgusting! Eddie you’re not like them! You’re not gay Eddie, we’ll get you help!

Eddie shook his head before downing the rest of his water.

“It doesn’t bother me.” He didn’t sound very convincing. His eyes shot to Richie who was just frowning, and Eddie let out a sigh.

“I wasn’t brought up by the most accepting person.” His eyes were back to the now empty glass.

As Richie stoop up, Eddie’s stomach dropped. He was sure Richie was going for the door. How could he have already fucked this whole situation up? Richie had to hate him now.

Stupid, so stupid, Eddie.

His thoughts stopped dead when he felt Richie’s hand on the top of his head again. It was just as gentle as the time before.

“Let’s get you to bed alright, Ed’s?” Eddie looked up to the taller man who had nothing but love in his eyes. It made Eddie’s stomach flip.

“A-Alright.” He slowly stood and Richie placed a hand on his arm to steady him before they made their way to Richie’s bedroom.

It looked exactly how Eddie would have imagined it; posters lining every inch of the walls, clothes strewn all over the floor, and a desk covered in pages of music and lyrics.

“Sorry it’s a mess.” Richie apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. Eddie just kept taking in all the stuff that Richie had; most of it looked like junk, but cool junk. He walked over to Richie’s desk, smiling fondly as he picked up a Magic 8Ball and sat down onto Richie’s bed.

“Are you twelve?” He looked up to the taller man who was now blushing.

“Hey! That thing has helped me write a lot of songs, alright?” A grin formed on his face as he kicked off his shoes and sat down next to Eddie.

“You do know they’re completely random, right?” Eddie went to shake the 8ball but Richie took it from his hands.

“I’m telling you these things really work, Ed’s” Richie shook it in his hands. “Is Eddie going to be a good addition to the Losers’ Club?” Eddie blushed as Richie asked the question. The answer showed: Very Likely.

“See! It’s magic!” Richie had the biggest smile on his face as Eddie took the 8Ball back.

“Is Richie a total nerd?” Eddie beamed back at the curly-haired man as the answer showed: Yes.

“Woah Richie you might actually be right!” Eddie laughed, and made Richie’s heart squeeze.

“Alright smart guy, give me that!” Richie playfully tried to wrestle the 8Ball from Eddie’s hands.

“No! I’m not done!” They continued the struggle before they both fell back onto the bed, Richie holding himself up over Eddie on shaky arms. The room went silent as Eddie stared up at Richie, their faces only inches apart. Eddie’s hand went limp, the 8ball rolling onto the floor.

After a moment, Richie finally broke the silence. “Do you like the left or the right side?” Eddie’s cheeks flushed while Richie slowly stood up. “Or I could take the floor, I don’t mind.”

Eddie shook his head.

“I-It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing.” Eddie sat up again, pushing off his shoes and scooting onto the left side of the bed. He watched as Richie opened his closet and sifted through a pile of clothes before pulling out a clean shirt. Eddie’s cheeks warmed again as he remembered why Richie had to change.

Richie pulled the dirty shirt off and Eddie couldn’t help but stare. Richie was tall and skinny, but his arms and back had enough definition to show from all the playing and lifting of equipment he did. Eddie felt a dryness in his throat as he watched Richie’s bare back flex, but Richie frowned as he caught a look of himself in a standing mirror he had next to his closet.

Fuck, I look like shit.

After Richie pulled on the shirt and ran his fingers through his hair, Eddie was quick to lay down and pretend he hadn’t been staring when the curly-haired man turned his attention back to the bed. Without warning, Richie flung himself onto the side next to Eddie, a grin on his face while Eddie tried his hardest not to look. A a blush was still creeping up his neck.

Why was I staring? That’s so creepy.

Richie leaned over Eddie to place his glasses on the nightstand. Eddie’s heart was beating like crazy.

“Night, Eds” Richie laid on his back, closing his eyes. Eddie studied Richie’s face for a moment before turning to face the taller man and closing his eyes tight.

Maybe I shouldn’t drink anymore

It had been about an hour until Richie was sure Eddie was asleep. He could hear soft snores over the muffled music still playing from downstairs. Richie turned to face the man sleeping next to him and he carefully reached out to gently push a few strands of hair from Eddie’s face. Eddie may not have understood, but Richie wasn’t a stranger to these kinds of feelings. If only Eddie Kaspbrak was gay was all Richie could think to himself.

I’m so fucked.

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