#and that he needs to have his own opinions when Eddie's around

[evil-ontheinside]

I have the feeling that Mike would lose all respect for Eddie if he sees him together with Steve. He sees Eddie pathetically flirting with an oblivious Steve and pulls a face, then goes to complain to Will about why Eddie has to have a crush on Steve. Will gets nervous bc fuck Mike is homophobic? but Mike just tells him about That Night (the one before 'human anatomy?') and that Eddie can't be cool anymore when he likes Steve who lost any chances of being genuinely respected by Mike. And now that Eddie has a crush/is dating Steve, all illusions of Eddie's charm are lost forever (this might also lead to Will coming out to Mike when he realizes that he wouldn't hate him and perhaps Mike coming out and love confessions and-)

So, whenever Steddie do something in front of the Party Mike has his look of irritation on his face and Eddie thinks he misjudged Mike when he notices bc Mike might be a little homophobic? Which doesn't fit into the whole dynamic he has going with Will but who knows. So Eddie asks him (in front of everyone bc he's not above outing a homophobe to their very accepting friend group) and Mike pulls that face again and just seconds before he opens his mouth Eddie recognizes it as regret and realizes Mike Wheeler is a little piece of shit. "I just can't believe I thought you were cool once" and Will (who now that he heard the story would give a lot to have seen that firsthand) starts to laugh while Eddie fully realizes that he lost any cool points he ever had with Mike

In the beginning, Eddie is so confused bc this child used to admire him, listen to everything he had to say, worship the ground he walks on and now he's dragging him every chance he gets. When Eddie asks why Mike suddenly lost all interest in him Will whispers 'it's the Harrington effect', Mike just nods and that's the only answer he gets

Mike becomes just as snarky and annoying with Eddie as he is with everyone else. And every time Mike gives him that look that says 'you're as dumb as a rock Eddie how do you not know this' Eddie is incredibly close to strangling him but also kind of happy that Mike finally is himself around him and not the blind puppy he was before

Eddie is also reluctantly impressed (reluctant bc now he can't give Mike the satisfaction of being impressed, not when he's such a brat) with Mike's problem-solving bc we know it's Mike who usually figures everything out. At least now he knows why Mike was such a good strategist during their campaign

Steve gives him a pat on the back in a moment of despair and says that it's probably his fault. Hopper chimes in that Mike is allergic to any kind of father/authority figure and that, now that he has parent status in the Party, it's just a natural development. Eddie has a whole new crisis that he's now some kind of father figure to the kids

#I just think that would be funny #I want Mike to realize that Eddie talks a lot of bullshit sometimes #and that he needs to have his own opinions when Eddie's around #and I like to humble Eddie #imagine this child that used to adore you suddenly talks shit about you to your face with no remorse and you have no idea why/what changed #the whiplash he would experience the first time it happens #one of the reasons I would've loved to have Mike in Hawkins with the rest bc of this dynamic #that would've given me so much joy #I believe Mike would've rolled his eyes at Eddie in a crisis situation and then whipped out a plan in five minutes #byler #steddie #eddie munson #mike wheeler #will byers #steve harrington #stranger things #brain dump

[livwritesstuff]

Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school. 

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah). 

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it. 

He would have known. 

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page. 

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book. 

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that. 

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it). 

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older. 

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him. 

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white. 

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.  

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect. 

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-It Friday Coda

Here is my 7x01 coda that I'm also counting for Fuck-It Friday! So thank you for the tags @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @jesuisici33 and @diazsdimples! Posted to ao3 here.

“How the talk with Chris go? He still seeing being a two timer?” Marisol asks with a sly smile.

Eddie blows out a harsh breath, “There wasn’t much of a talk on my end.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “Oh? You just letting him work it on his own?”

He shakes his head, “Oh god no. That would have just made an even bigger mess.” Eddie has to look away from his girlfriend as he admits, “Actually I asked Buck to talk to him. He has some um... experience with the whole ‘player’ thing.”

Marisol’s wine glass smacks loudly on the coffee table in the silence that follows, and Eddie barely holds back a wince. Still, he doesn’t look at her. He never does when speaking about Buck.

“You had your newly single best male friend, with a history of getting around, talk to your son about not doing the exact same thing?” Marisol sound appalled and it has Eddie whipping around to see her actual reaction. His girlfriend looked upset and disgusted? What is that about?

“Um, yea. Buck has the insight into all of that and he’s reformed and all that.” Eddie tries defending.

She scoffs, “Reformed? Didn’t he just break up with his last girlfriend because he got bored.”

Well, that was a very poor recount of events that had already been poorly told by Buck and Eddie felt the low simmer of burgeoning anger, “Buck did not get bored. He was trying to live, move on from his death, and all that woman was doing, was being a constant reminder of it.”

The anger rises at Marisol rolling her eyes, “Like I said, bored. But that’s not really the point here.”

He grinds his back molars, “What is the point then, in your opinion?”

She narrows her eyes at his tone, “The point is Christopher isn’t going to learn to respect women, be a courteous young man by talking to a man whose disastrous dating history is printed in a best-selling book by someone from said history. He’s Christopher’s fun friend, the guy he goes to when he doesn’t want to get in trouble and you’re feeding into it.”

Eddie slams his beer to the coffee table, making Marisol’s almost empty wine glass wobble from the force, and rises his feet, “After me, Buck is one of the most important people in Christopher’s life. You have not a single understanding of what they are to each other, what they have been through. What Buck has personally been through. He is not some womanizing asshole corrupting my son. He is Christopher’s best friend; my best friend, and the person I know I can turn to when I need help with Christopher. With anything.”

Marisol rises to her feet, “And you’re allowing him to continue take up the space I am trying to get into. I thought we we’re getting somewhere when you invited me to chaperon Chris’s date with you, when you opened up about your worries about him. But instead of letting me try to help you ran to a person you can’t bring up without looking away.”

He immediately proves her point and puts his gaze on the fireplace mantle, eyes roaming over every photo. There several of just him and his son, pre-LA to just last year before Christopher’s school dance. There are pictures of their family back in Texas and the entirety of the 118. Then there are photos with Buck. Christopher and Buck at the zoo. The trio of them at the mall fountain. Eddie’s graduation. Christopher’s 10th birthday. And second to last, Eddie and Buck, arms around each other’s shoulders at Hen and Karen’s vow renewal. At the end of all those photos sits the last family picture of Eddie, Christopher, and Shannon took at the beach.

Eddie thinks back on the picture Christopher turned down on his desk and the letter he almost didn’t read. He thinks about how his first instinct was to turn to Buck and not the girlfriend who witnessed Christopher’s player antics, someone who could give insight on how those girls felt. And then he realizes, Christopher wouldn’t have opened up about his mother to anyone, but Buck.

That space Marisol is trying to fit herself into, is too large, too broad, and perfectly Buck shaped.  She would never fit.

With a sense of déjà vu, Eddie drops his gaze to floor and softly states, “I think you should go.”

💜🩷💜🩷

Wine glass rinsed out, beer bottle in the recycling, and a reusable tote bag just barely filled with Marisol’s few items left at his house sat near the door, Eddie relaxes back into his couch.

Marisol put up a lack-luster fight to leaving, but eventually she drowned the last of her wine and called an uber. “He’s not going stick around forever. He’s going to break both yours and Christopher’s hearts.” She warned, “And you’ll be just as alone as you were in the hardware store.”

Eddie held back a harsh retort and simply told her, “I haven’t been alone since I met him and I never will be if either one of us has a say about it.”

He opened the door, Marisol got into a little gray sedan, and she went back to the home Eddie helped destroy.

Picking up his phone from the coffee table, Eddie pulls up his contact favorites, smirking humorously at Marisol’s missing name, and presses the person at the very top. It rings twice, before, “Hey man, thought it was date night?”

“Asked her to go home.” Eddie replies.

Silence on the other end for a just a moment then, “Man, you really need to find a better way to break up with women.” Buck teases.

Eddie chuckles, “Well at least there was no mess to clean up this time.”

Buck hums in agreement before softly asking, “You doing okay?”

Not a single lie passed his lips when he answered, “More than. But you know what would help?”

“What?”

“Go-karts in the dessert.”

A laugh that makes Eddie feel warm all over, “It’s a date.”

Hope you all enjoyed! Tagging (no pressure): @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @devirnis @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @cal-daisies-and-briars @aroeddiediaz @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @perfectlysunny02 @dangerpronebuddie @missmagooglie

#fuck it friday #tag game #coda fic #7x01 #my fic #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #shannon diaz #marisol #anti marisol #break up #buck is christopher’s other dad

[undead-supernova]

Bummer! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: you invite eddie out to a party with you and your best friend and it's all perfect...right?

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, dirty dancing/making out, hints at past trauma, arguing, underlining slut shaming, lots of heavy petting and fluffy feelings

note: we're up to part 3 already?! with part 4 already in the works?! who even am I anymore!!! thank you to both @littlexdeaths and @jo-harrington for being my biggest supporters and encouraging me to keep going. this is for you both !!!!

song inspo: the song in this chapter is Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny. It is an absolute bop (also he is so hot it’s not even funny)

wc: 5.6k

“Your life sounds like fan fiction.”

You let out a high-pitched scoff, taking Aron’s stuffed octopus by the tentacles and whacking her with it.

“Shut up!”

Aron chuckled, throwing her hands up. “Hey, I never said that was a bad thing!”

You and Aron, your best friend since freshman year, were perched on her bed, all cross-legged and giggly, recounting the last few weeks with Eddie. When you finally told Aron about him, she was livid. How could you not tell your best friend about a really hot guy you’d been seeing who wasn’t an asshole? 

“He’s just so good,” you said with a content smile, throwing your head back on the bed like a girl in a 2000s romantic comedy. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

“Yeah, I’d feel lucky too if I had a guy playing guitar for me and tasted like cinnamon and beauty and stuff.”

Your smile widened, the phantom touch of his lips already having imprinted itself on your mouth. “He’s just so nice. And I feel like he gets me, you know? He sees me for me, not for my body or whatever. Plus, we have the same taste in music and movies and…” A soft sigh left your lips as you shrugged. “He just makes me happy, I don’t know.”

Aron leaned over, smiling down at you. The beads at the end of her long braids clinked together as she shook her head at you. “Well, I’m very happy this Eddie is making my best friend all gooey and soft for once.”

You rolled your eyes but you both knew you really appreciated the affirmation. Sometimes you needed that extra assurance, Aron’s opinion being maybe the most important to you—besides your own. When you’d met her at that dreaded Halloween party, all tattered clothes and broken sobs, Aron was quick to help you. Without questions, without judgment. A stranger helping a stranger before becoming best friends within a week.

Before you could get lost in the cold memory, Aron clapped her hands and gasped.

“You should invite him to the party!”

You sat up, furiously nodding. “Oh my God, yes! I completely forgot.”

“It’ll be fun.” You nodded, watching as her nose began to crinkle. “Unless you sneak off to go make out or something.”

Your apologetic smile that turned a little too exaggerated made her groan.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you said, feigning a sensual tone as you made kissy noises and reached out to tickle her.

She hit you with the octopus (that poor octopus), causing you both to laugh. “You tell me about every fucking kiss, bitch.”

Grabbing it from her, you smirked and said, “And you love hearing about it.”

Aron shrugged. “True. I’m too nosey for my own good.”

“And I’m too honest,” you added, giving her a high-five.

“So, the party?”

You hadn’t felt this way since you were fourteen, running around the football field late at night with Trent Summers, lost in the throes of an unrequited crush. Lost in an all-American fantasy of dating a boy on the football team when you hadn’t even made the cheer squad. Getting your heart broken after he told you he had a girlfriend. You ended your friendship right then and there—resulting in you throwing a football at his face.

Mary Winston had been next, all braces and crooked smiles. Sweet sixteens and discovered identities. You’d met in the art room during lunch, fawning over some TV show before realizing that there was something more there. It didn’t last long, but you swore you’d love her till the day you died. And if anyone had access to your tear-stained diary, they’d know it was very dramatic. Very dramatic.

(Come to think of it, you’d felt something bubbly inside you for Eliza Roseheart in preschool. Playing “husband and wife” and pecking each other on the lips shouldn’t have been as fun as it was.)

Now there was Eddie Munson, the guy who walked you to class and got you coffee just because. At night, you hopped in his van and went on drives. An hour and a half of scream-singing that always ended up with feverish make out sessions by the dock of a lake, the windows fogging up despite the humid heat just beyond those doors. Gnashing teeth as you both giggled your way through can we play 20 Questions? and can I tell you another secret? in between kisses. Helping him down from orgasms after some whispers and heavy, heavy petting, caressing his face in your hands as you told him how good of a job he did. Tracing the lines of his face as you teetered in and out of sleep. Feeling his lips on your forehead as he helped you back into your dorm.

You were never one to believe in good luck. After years of being thrown to the wolves and caged inside a dungeon you built yourself, this nerdy little goofball had coaxed you away from the bars. Led you from a state of hidden solitude, only to welcome you with warm sun and sweaty palms.

All you knew now was that you wanted him. Always.

“We’ll be there.”

Eddie felt naked without his jacket.

As a matter of fact, he felt a bit out of character. A dark, dark purple Black Sabbath tee was paired with his regular black jeans, combat boots, and wallet chain. The same rings and bracelets.

But his jacket. He knew he’d have to leave it with this weather. Smelling bad wasn’t an option tonight, especially meeting your best friend. The less he fucked up his appearance, the less he had to worry about fucking up in general.

So he hung up his favorite boy and left his dorm with bare arms. Followed his heart all the way to your dorm.

Had your roommate greet him, a giggle escaping her lips as soon as she saw him. Aron, as he learned, was quick to pull him into conversation as you finished up getting ready. Though you called down the hallway to them, he still couldn’t calm his anxiety.

Meeting new people didn’t bode well for him.

And yet he was proven wrong—their conversation was as easy as breathing, exchanging thoughts on their favorite video games and how legendary Black Sabbath was.

“Oh, I like you,” she said at one point and laughed at the blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m glad you already know that’s a compliment of the highest degree.”

He’d thought he got his groove back. He really did. But then he heard your heels echoing through the hallway and looked over at your figure coming closer. Eddie immediately shot up out of his seat at the sight of you.

Your dress was one he hadn’t seen before, a satin black spaghetti-strapped dress that hugged your curves just right. A patch at the bottom showed a red rose, circled by a silver snake. Black heels and an array of rings. No necklace, no earrings. Smokey-eyed and gloss-lipped.

“Fucking hell.”

Both girls broke out into laughter.

He wanted to hit himself. Could he once, just once, keep his mouth shut?

“Sorry,” he added.

You shook your head, stepping closer. “Don’t be. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received, so thank you.”

Eddie nearly missed Aron skipping off to her room when you pulled him into a hug. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, letting his arms wrap around your back. Even after all these weeks, he found that he could never get used to your embrace. Your skin against his, the fizzle of something electric jumping between your bodies.

“You look amazing, by the way,” you whispered in his ear before pulling back. He was pretty sure your smile was just as goofy as his. “I love your shirt.”

“Thought you might,” he responded with a small laugh. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but stopped himself. “Sorry.”

Your smile faltered as confusion flooded your face. “For what?”

Before he could apologize again, Aron was skipping back into the room and clapping her hands together.

“Alright, let’s boogey.”

You were quick to settle into the party, the three of you standing in one corner or another, laughing over really anything you could think of. Aron was sure to point out everyone who was cool and everyone who was not, giving Eddie a crash course in the party scene that always felt a little too high school for your taste. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to bother with that stuff which you liked. There was nothing worse than watching someone lose themselves in fair-weather friends.

Two drinks in, Aron left to go find some other friends of hers, reiterating that they were part of the Cool Crowd. It left you and Eddie to your own devices, with your exaggerated bantering and light shoves. Touches that felt like electric shocks, the voltage only increasing with each jab. At some point, you had to wonder if that’s why you both kept doing it.

Then, in the middle of threatening to tickle him, you heard the starting sounds of a Bad Bunny song you liked. Leaning your head back, you let out a satisfied “Yes!”, watching as people quickly gathered near the speakers.

Eddie looked at you, confused.

You merely chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over to the small crowd.

“Let’s dance!”

Your hand grasped his over your shoulder, just like that night you met. It was a feeling like no other, Eddie’s heart hammering in his chest. And, God, he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

He was happy. He was having fun.

“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music!” he admitted loudly, a smile still plastered on his lips.

But you were far from deterred. “Just follow my lead, pretty boy.”

And just like that, you were turning around and tugging his hands forward until they met your waist. Let yourself lean back on him, grinding your hips as they swayed back and forth.

Effortless. That’s the best way he could describe the way you moved, the way you never missed a beat. The bass pumped and vibrated through Eddie’s limbs, but you seemed to be one with the music.

Dancing wasn’t something unheard of when it came to Eddie. If he was listening to music, chances were that he was shimmying his shoulders or head banging. In a mosh pit, he let himself get jostled around, bopping along to the sound. He may not have had hips like Jagger, but he knew how to move them at least.

However, this was new territory, having a girl, having you in front of him, waiting for him to move. And if he was supposed to move, then god dammit, he was going to move.

Eddie took a deep breath before the beat slowed down. Letting his wired thoughts fade into a soft buzz, doing what he felt was right. Like pulling you tight against his chest and moving his hips at the same time as yours. Pushing himself against your ass, a harsh breath leaving his nose at the friction.

Sighing, you let your head fall back on his shoulder, a content smile lifting onto your lips. Raised your hands, wrapping them around his neck the best you could, rhythm never lost on you.

And it would be just so easy to…

But would you be okay with…

Fuck it.

Shaking his head, he leaned down and began to kiss your neck. Your next sigh was what officially turned him on, pushing him further into your heat wave. Licked a stripe up your neck and tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

Eddie couldn’t help the thought, the impulse creeping up in this crowded house party to move his fingers just a bit lower, to skirt the hem of your dress that was riding up with each swirl of your hips. He wanted you, cock straining against his jeans in near agony, continuing to litter your neck with love bites as if you were alone.

And just before he could get a little more bold, you were taking his trigger-finger hand and placing it on your thigh, so close to what he could call the inner thigh.

“Is that okay?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He nodded. “Was already headed there, sweetheart. You beat me to it.”

“I took an earlier flight,” you joked.

A breathy chuckle left his lips. “That’s okay. That’s not my last stop anyways.”

Your thigh was soft, full, easy enough to squeeze. So he did, eliciting a high-pitched sigh from you.

A proud smile met your face. So you liked when he took the upper hand.

And, God, if you kept looking at him like that, he was going to start fingering you in front of every fucking person here. Maybe he would. No one was looking at you both, right? He could do it. Just a little bit. Just…just a little bit.

His fingers twitched, raising higher and higher and—

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice said, snapping you out of this moment. You both looked over to see Aron approaching, taking hold of one of your wrists. “But I gotta steal her for a second.”

“Aron!” you exclaimed, holding onto Eddie’s hand as long as you could before Aron dragged you away. Sorry, you mouthed at him before turning back.

You couldn’t help your face growing hot at the feeling of your wetness still sticking to your inner thighs as you parted them.

She didn’t pull you far, but you couldn’t help how pissed you felt. Granted, you weren’t really pissed at her but something was about to happen and you’d been more than happy to just let it.

Eddie was finally taking the upper hand, doing what he wanted. Not just going along with what you told him to do. There was no blind faith or overthought. No, he was showing—initiating. It was euphoric. It was nearly orgasmic…

“What’s going on?” you asked, smoothing out the hem of your dress. And as you stood there fixing yourself, you felt Aron step closer to you.

“Listen, Sam is walking around, drunk as fuck—”

“Big shock there,” you commented, crossing your arms over your chest.

Aron let out a snort. “Yeah, literally. Anyways, he’s talking about how easy you are in bed and keeps telling everyone you’re here with Eddie to make him jealous.”

Sam Covington had been a problem for…a while. Maybe since last summer, when you were…friendly with some of the frat guys’ girlfriends. Got invited out one night and Sam was there, always staring at you from any corner of the room or finding excuses to talk to you. It was fucking creepy.

It was one of those things that sent chills down your spine, the fear for your safety growing with each glance. That voice that made you want to run and hide. The touch that had you wondering if you’d remembered to grab your pepper spray and whistle.

Usually, you were able to stand your ground and hurl insults he couldn’t fathom hearing from a woman. Even the last party you’d seen him at, the one where you had met Eddie…

But it didn’t mean that you felt any more secure.

“Him? Ha!” You exaggerated your tone, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Waved your hand around, desperate to stay calm. “What a fucking joke. He wishes.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold at your mocking tone, taken aback by your blatant degradation. Like a mask had been removed, revealing a forked tongue and razor sharp teeth.

He’d seen your expression, your shoulders turning inward, like you were uncomfortable. He decided to walk over and, sure, it was probably rude. He knew that. However, he couldn’t stand to see you upset. He needed to know what was going on, pulled to you with some tether that he couldn’t explain.

But he regretted it immediately.

Aron chuckled. “If that ain’t the truth, girl.”

“He’s such a fucking loser, I swear. Can’t catch a fucking hint.”

Eddie once thought he’d let go of the anger he once held in high school. The defiant boy that was once riddled with so much frustration at the cruel hand he’d been dealt. The one that jumped up on lunch tables and screamed at whoever would listen. He thought he’d given up on holding onto the bitterness of verbal sucker punches and bruised ribs.

But it was creeping back up, that violent shaking that ran along his arms. The torment of those five brutal years of high school tingling in his fingertips as you continued to desaturate the vibrancy of a man he thought he was becoming.

“Like, why does he have to be so obsessed with you?”

You shrugged and his eyes caught the tail end of your eye roll. “Because he’s so fucking desperate for someone to fuck him. That’s why.”

And before he could stop his head from going there, he was back in that blistering July. The fear of being used goods clutching at his throat as he struggled to speak, struggled to find an escape. 

“Pathetic,” you stated, voice thick with disgust.

That scorching July. Fingers trembling on the doorknob, his sweaty palm slicking it in sweat. Slipping. 

No escape, no escape.

He needed to get out. There was no thought, just action. So, he turned and started stalking towards the front door. Voices in his head spoke over one another, flooding his brain.

Freak. Loser. Dirty. Good for nothing. Desperate. Trailer park trash.

Pathetic.

“Eddie?” he heard behind him, the sound of his name on your lips like a beckoning call, serenading him with its delicacy. 

If he didn’t have a shred of dignity left, he would’ve turned around and come running. But he didn't, instead making a run for the side of the house. Maybe if he hid, he didn’t have to face your humiliation.

And, like he said, he didn’t have to run back…because you were already catching up with him, stopping him in his tracks as you stepped in front of him. How you did that in six inch heels was fucking beyond him.

Placing a hand on his chest, you asked, “What’s wrong?” As your eyes scanned his face, you added, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

But he knew better. 

He did, didn’t he?

“Are you using me?”

You paused, flinching away from his chest as if you’d been burned. “Excuse me?”

“Like…” Eddie started, trying to take a deep breath to keep himself level. But he was starting to falter, all shaky and desperate for you to get it the fuck over with. “Like, if we even fuck, is that it? Will the chase be over for you?”

Your face began to harden, something resembling fury clouding your features. “How fucking dare you think I’d do something like that.”

“It’s just a question!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I don’t appreciate you acting like I’m engaging in this relationship just to fuck you and leave.” 

His eyebrows furrowed as his nostrils flared with frustration, both of you holding mirrored expressions. But yours softened first, the edges of your snarl quivering. Shaking your head, you took another step back.

“I like you, Eddie. Okay? I’ve liked you since that first night. We’ve been on, like, three dates now? And I introduced you to my best friend, for Christ’s sake. You make me laugh but you make me so fucking soft, it drives me insane. And those late night drives make these stupid midterms worth it.”

“Oh.”

“Did I really have to spell it out?” Eddie didn’t say anything. “I mean, geez. I thought I’ve been an open book this whole time. I’ve spent practically every day with you. Every night, even. Like, why would I want to be with anyone else? And did you really need me to reiterate all of that?”

“But you told your friend that I’m—”

“What?!” you exclaimed before shaking your head. “No, that was about this frat guy, Sam. He’s been creeping on me again and is spreading fucking rumors and I am getting literally so sick and tired of it.”

The dissipated anger began to creep back up at the thought of some douchebag stalking you. Who the fuck was Sam to not take a fucking hint? And why was it becoming so increasingly hard not to run back into that party and beat the shit out of him?

“A guy’s been creeping on you? Since when?”

You sighed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Eddie held up a hand. “Now, hang on. I am going to worry about that, because that’s not nothing.”

“I agree, but that’s a later conversation,” you said, pushing his hand down and shaking your head. “Get to the part where you tell me why you think I’d ever say that about you.”

Eddie was the one to sigh now, pissed that you had to move on but ultimately needed to confess. “I just never thought you’d actually be into me.”

“Why?” you nearly yelled.

“I’m just a fr—”

“Ew! If you say ‘freak’, I’m legally obligated to rip your eyes straight out of your skull.”

A breath escaped his nose as he closed his eyes and tried again. “You just…you’ve dated more people than I have.”

“Based off of what?”

His eyes flew open. “What?” he asked, unsure what you meant.

“You haven’t even bothered to ask me how many people I’ve dated—or fucked, for that matter.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “I’ve had one relationship. One.”

“Really?” he whispered.

You let out a laugh that didn’t match your exhausted expression. “Yeah, for a week until she got nervous about her parents finding out and dumped me. I was sixteen.” Furrowed eyebrows returned to your face as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned towards him dramatically. “What about that, huh? How many people have you dated, Eddie?”

Two. The number was thick in his throat, his verbalization swallowed by your question being, well, rhetorical.

You paused, turning your face away from the light. But he caught your pointer finger flying up to dab your lower lash line. “Like, I’ve had sex, sure. But it’s not like I ask all those guys to fucking harass me. I honestly don’t know how that became a thing here. Like, I’m just here. I’m just trying to have fun.”

The guilt was starting to settle in his chest. “I should’ve caught that.”

“I thought you understood me,” you said before letting out a high-pitched sound of disbelief, lifting your hands and letting them fall at your sides with a loud thwack. “Like, I’m not a slut or a whore or whatever they want to say despite it being the twenty-first fucking century! And I can’t even be with you without some guy trying to—”

He heard it before he saw it. A scoff that shifted into a sob as you crouched down to your knees, only hovering above the ground by your tall heels. 

Eddie had never seen you cry, had never seen the façade so easily broken. This girl he once thought untouchable, invincible, cracking before his eyes.

Looking back to all of those moments, those numerous instances of harassment, how quick you were to send them a message. How easily it came to you, to throw your verbal and physical punches like it was nothing. Like it was a normal thing.

He’d gotten so caught up in how badass you were that he didn’t stop to think about how you felt about it. Or why it came so easily to you.

He crouched down, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry. That was really shitty of me.”

He felt you lean into his hand, glad that you weren’t rejecting him. It was lame, but he didn’t think he could handle your rejection right now. Especially when you were in this state. Especially when he was the reason why.

Turning to glance at him through your tears, you said, “Eddie, that really hurt my feelings.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said truthfully. “If it means anything, I didn’t think you were a, um, slut or whatever. I just thought maybe you didn’t want me the same way.”

You nodded, sniffling while wiping the snot away from your nose. Never once did you pull away from his touch or grow cold. “Yeah, I get that.” You paused, your eye contact starting to burn him. “I’ve never done any of the shit we’ve done with other people. I’ve only felt that comfortable with you.”

“But you’re just…” he trailed before sighing and closing his eyes. “You’re just so good at it.”

When he heard a loud laugh leaving your lips, his eyes flew open, grateful to see a smile on your face. The laugh turned into a fit of snorts, leaving him to laugh at just how adorable you were.

“Yeah, thanks,” you teased, the familiar tone giving him the ability to breathe again. “It’s a litany of porn, smut, and—” You moved your hands up to mimic the shape of a rainbow. “Imaginaaation.”

The reference got Eddie laughing again, nodding along as he replied, “You could’ve told me you’re a dominatrix on the side and, like, I would’ve believed you. Scout’s honor.”

“Good to know,” you joked.

Eddie stood back up then, shaking his head as he reached a hand out to you. “I’m an asshole.”

You lifted an eyebrow, slowly shaking your head back at him before taking his hand. “You’re more special than you think you are.”

He lifted you up, grasping your palm in his as he brought you closer to him. Your joined hands rested against his heart, faces inches apart. 

There you were, your eyes fully in view now. Watery, with makeup creasing along your waterline and smudged mascara littering your cheeks. Despite the quiet pain it caused him, he was grateful to get a glimpse at your beauty again, your attention still gutting him over and over again.

If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he could feel his guts spilling onto the concrete. And when he drew closer, it was made even worse as he felt your heart rate increase in real time.

And, god dammit, he couldn’t help himself. Eddie closed the gap and kissed you. Gently, tentatively. Let himself linger just long enough to inhale your breath before pulling back.

“My god, you’re precious,” he whispered, heart clenching with every feature you softened—the mask slipping. His eyes fell upon your lips, slightly ajar in shock.  

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath hitching when he lightly pushed you against the wall. 

Eddie’s nose skimmed your cheek, desperate to breathe in your perfume. One last whiff. He swore it. Just one more.

Just one more.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, inhaling your scent again.

It was the last time. Promise. 

“Tell me again,” you pleaded.

He pulled back, catching the clenching of your thighs in his peripheral. A dangerous smile grazed his lips as he gave you what you wanted. 

“You’re precious.”

You nodded repeatedly, doe-eyed as you begged, “Again.”

“You’re precious,” he said, hushed as his lips hovered above yours.

“Please,” you whimpered, legs squirming against his. But he pushed you further into the wall, your connected hands halting your movement. He could feel your heart racing furiously. “One more time.”

“You’re precious, baby.”

Before you could lunge at him, he was a step ahead of you, crushing your lips with his. Released your hand, quick to cup your face as you floundered to find somewhere to put your hands. Taking a page out of your book, he grabbed your wrists and placed them on his shoulders.

A sigh left your lips at the movement, nodding your head as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. What you were nodding about, he had no idea. He didn’t have the ability to have thoughts about anything anymore. 

All he could think was more, more, more.

All he could feel was you.

He couldn’t help himself when he slotted his thigh between yours, earning a deafening moan that made him harder than he already was. You’d moaned, sure. He’d heard you do it plenty of times when you made out. But he was suddenly struck with how different your positions were now. And how he was the reason for it. 

The thought drove him closer to the edge, roughly grabbing at your cheek with one hand while the other slid down your thigh, snaking around your knee and jerking your leg up to his hip. Your gasp made him even crazier, unable to help it when he pushed his thigh further against your core. Another wild whimper, this time with an edge of impatience.

“This okay?” he asked.

You nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes.”

If Eddie had the confidence, he’d take you against this house right now. He’d slide into you with ease, Fucking those little sounds out of you, the ones he dreamed about at night. The ones that would mirror the way you sounded right now, only intensified and louder. 

And yet it was enough to hear your now quiet desperation, to feel your thighs clench around his leg, your soaking pussy dripping through your panties and staining his jeans with ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked.”

You nodded furiously, seemingly unable to speak as you gasped and chased his lips again. Ground your pussy against his leg. Impatient, hungry.

He couldn’t help but feel greedy, draping himself around you.

Let there be witnesses. Let the whole house hear him, he didn’t care. But those noises, your noises, belonged solely to him. Swallowed by his mouth, muffled by his body shielding yours. The vibrations pulsed through his cheeks and he couldn’t help but let out a low groan.

He noticed you continuing to chase the friction, rubbing yourself along the denim over and over, his jeans being ruined with every rut of your hips. If Eddie hadn’t been drunk off of you before, he was deliriously faded now. Because you were still going, no words leaving your mouth. Just whimpers and moans.

He wanted to say something, wanted to beg you to keep going. But he stayed quiet, knowing that you’d probably stop, keeping yourself from the pleasure he was witnessing. You looked like a goddess, eyes rolling back and, dear god, he needed to mark your neck again. He dipped his head down and began nipping at your skin again, frenzied at the reaction it pulled out of you.

The hitch in your breath caught his attention, moving his face from your neck to see your head thrown back. Your heaving chest was the indicator, the slow build of something beginning inside you. 

“Do it,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Without any warning, he felt your legs tremble before your cum seeped into his jeans. A cry left your lips as your breath continued at a rapid pace, sweat dripping down your neck. Eddie was quick to lick it up, trying hard not to get on his knees and lap up what was left from the source.

(He was just glad he had enough restraint to resist begging for your underwear to keep for later.)

(The one time he’s able to keep his mouth shut.)

One last whimper left your lips as you came down, chasing the last of your high on his leg before he moved it out of the way. Left a gentle kiss on your forehead before he heard you sniffle.

“S-sorry,” you breathed, tightly squeezing your eyes shut. He came back to the present, leaning back as he watched your face crumble. “Sorry.”

Eddie took your chin between his fingers. “Hey, open your eyes. Look at me.”

At first, you only opened one, like you were testing the waters. He chuckled, earning access to your other eye. “There she is,” he murmured, pecking your nose. “Why’re you apologizing?”

“‘Cause I didn’t ask you if it was okay if I did that.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pushed his fingers away, covering your mouth with your hand. Shook your head as you added, “I didn’t ask. I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“Baby, I would’ve stopped you.” He moved your hand away, lightly stroking your cheek as he continued. “I was honestly scared you would stop.”

Your head cocked towards his, glassy eyes turned clear again. “Why?”

“‘Cause then I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum.”

A bashful expression immediately fell over your features, shoulders caving inwards as you bit your lip. You tapped your heels against the concrete, one by one, all jittery and shy. It was cute.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on that, either,” you said. “But you just…”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, sighing. “You kinda fucked with my head.”

“Does that mean I get to finally fuck you?”

Tapping at your cheek, you looked away in feigned contemplation before shaking your head. “Nope. I think I’ll make you work harder to get to see it.”

“Nah, I could prove it right now,” he insisted, getting down on both knees.

You became flustered, looking at your surroundings before back down at him. “Eddie, no.”

He put his hands in a praying position and tried to puppy-dog eye you. “Trust me, I can make you do that, like, five more times right now.”

“Eddie—”

“And that’s just with my tongue.”

“Oh my God. Get up,” you said with a laugh, tugging him to stand back up. “We’re not doing this in public.”

Eddie snorted, a goofy smile meeting his lips. “Well, technically we already—”

“There you guys are!” 

Aron’s voice snapped you both out of your delirium, bringing you back to where you were.

“Oh, ew!” she nearly screeched, eyes wide as she stared at Eddie’s jeans. “We’re in public, guys. Come on.” 

When you both looked down, you saw your cum glistening across his jeans. 

“I’m sorry!” you said at the same time Eddie said, “I’m not sorry!”

You immediately gawked at him and he couldn’t have enjoyed any reaction more. His smirk said it all, earning a quick whack to his shoulder. 

“You’re both so horny on main. I’m never letting you out of my sight at a party ever again.”

thank yew for the divider @strangergraphics

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson/you #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson smut

[carolmunson]

okay, since some of you asked for it:

unpopular opinion but i don’t actually think eddie was a nice soft boy at all. dustin and mike are literally afraid to ask him to move hellfire. ‘he’s always revved up,’ implying that he’s always like this, always a little close to snapping. he’s not nice to them when he asks them to find a replacement. he also guilt trips them about 'taking them in like lost sheep' and shoves them off to find a replacement instead of keeping lucas included. which is why i don't understand the 'fierce protector of his friends' take because he's so quick to drop lucas just because he's 'moved to the dark side.' aka, throwing balls into laundry baskets.

which leads me to when he gets up on the table, people are not trying to fuck around with him. this is a common occurance, people are not surprised to see him up there and yelling. they aren't surprised that he's making a spectacle of himself. if eddie was soft and sweet, he would’ve gotten beat up. if eddie was soft and gentle, he'd probably be scared of jason. guys like jason in the 80s loved being macho and punching out losers — eddie just gave him the devil horns and called it a day. eddie’s absolutely gotten in fist fights before and won (his dad is a literal criminal!) otherwise someone would've thrown something or told him to shut the fuck up. people are scared of him, even his own friends! there’s more reasons than just playing DND and metal that make town certain that he’s a cult leader. you don't just assume someone is a murderer if they haven't shown any interest in violence before, especially considering his dad was likely a shitty dude. he even bullies erica when she first shows up to hellfire and only respects her when she bullies him back and bests him. he is someone you have to EARN respect from. he will never respect anyone outright or be understanding outright. he doesn't fully respect dustin or mike to start either, he views them as underlings.

even chrissy assumes he's going to be mean and scary, there's gotta be reason behind that. he's not nice or kind in school, which is likely a defense mechanism. he’s sweet with chrissy because he likes her, he has a crush on her. it’s very clear that he has since he was a kid, otherwise why would he bring up them hanging out in middle school? why would he even remember that if he hasn’t been pining for her this whole time? he admits too, albiet flirtily, that he thought SHE'D be mean and scary too, because he doesn't like people 'like that', people he assumes are 'on the dark side'. i’m sure he hoped they’d kiss a little when she went to his trailer. he's even a little sarcastic when she's there, again, defensive. 'the maid took the week off'. but ultimately, he's nice to her because he wants to kiss her and has a crush on her. i don't think it's because he's fully 'showing her who he really is'.

also he's a literal drug dealer????? like?????

he only becomes more gentle and open with dustin and co. when he gets pulled into the upside down/vecna stuff because he needs support. they grow a bond over shared trauma. and i do believe eddie had a big brother type relationship with dustin, but just like steve he loves him begrudgingly 'i love you, you little shit bag' kind of shit. i do believe he liked and cared for his friends but i also think he always had a big layer of mean kid armor on because he had a hard life growing up. how i percieved the character is 'mean bully whose secretly nice but is mean and boisterous and loud as a cover' trope. when he explains that his father taught him to hotwire, he seems bitter about it. of course he is, all the other kids were learning to play ball. but he obviously still retains this information and a whole bunch of other crime tricks from his dad. he's BEEN partaking in this shit. he KNOWS he's a shitty guy. you don't just get taught how to hotwire once and then suddenly know how to do it years later. he's done it before! multiple times! he has practice! he likely knows about warzone cause his daddy absoLUTELY had a gun or two. his dad probably took him there once. he was pulled left and right into bad shit growing up and that will HARDEN YOU. wayne says that murder 'ain't in his nature' and i'm sure it's not. i'm sure he's different with wayne, but idk, to me, it doesn't erase the fact that outwardly, i don't think eddie was nearly as sweet and gentle as people think he is canonically. i think he's a very hardened and tortured person and that even becomes clear with his reaction to chrissy's death and how he goes about things going forward. he was a weird kid with weird interests in a cookie cutter conservative town, had a criminal father, and an unconventional family situation in the 70s and 80s, that shit'll fuck you up and over -- look at boomers y'all! they are emotionally stunted! but, i could go on forever with this character analysis. so i'll stop here. but -- in the words of the real housewives reunion meme: that's MY OPINION!

[mazzystar24]

Being a psychology nerd and engaging in fandom actually makes my eye twitch sometimes because terms are constantly being used wrong to diss people or characters and also people will act like they know every experience a mentally ill person can have just based off a small sample of what they’ve seen and they’ll use that to disregard storylines or people’s opinions or spec

So some things guys that may be an unintentional call out or reassurance for your spec:

Hallucinations CAN be auditory and visual simultaneously (multi modal it can even be tactile, somatic olfactory or gustatory) and there is actually a very high prevalence of this in a lot of disorders and are actually thought to occur more frequently than unimodal hallucinations, and yes it can be in the form of full blown conversations with people that aren’t there and they can be extremely elaborate and complex especially if paired with delusions- so yes the possibility that Kim is a hallucination and we are just seeing it from Eddie’s pov is valid spec so stop being dismissive to people

Also for my brain tumour truthers- a brain tumour is a little complicated when it comes to hallucinations cos it really depends where the tumour is and what regions are effected because for example an occipital lobe tumour is more likely to just cause visual hallucinations- but multimodal hallucinations due to a brain tumour is also possible, a brain tumour also comes with other symptoms too but a lot can be consistent with the spec like for example impulsivity or disinhibition, delusions, aggression (if the buddie divorce is true that works), anxiety, depression, etc.

Trauma bonding is something that occurs in ABUSIVE situations where you start to feel sympathy and love for your abuser it’s not when people bond over trauma - so no what buck and Eddie or buck and Chris have is very much not a trauma bond

Gaslighting isn’t just lying to someone it’s intentionally manipulating them to the extent that they doubt their own sanity (the term coming from a play turned movie where a husband drives his wife crazy by like screwing with the gas lights in their house when she’s alone to make her doubt her memory and her perception of reality) - so no Eddie is not GASLIGHTING buck when he lies to him 😭😭

Codependency is also just not what Eddie and buck have, they don’t base their entire lives on each other and they don’t like have an unhealthy dynamic or have an imbalanced relationship, now yes they both had times when they needed the other to be there for them or help them through stuff or aid their self worth but overall they more so just want to be around each other not that they NEED to and they work on themselves separately like going to therapy by themselves while also supporting eachother by helping out while they do that

#is this post probably for a very niche audience of psychology students who are 911 fans? probably #911 abc #eddie diaz #911 fox #evan buck buckley #911onfox #buckley diaz family #911 speculation #911 spec #evan buckley #911 #buddie

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, I said I was gonna make a post about the way I believe Ryan is playing Eddie as in love with Buck because of the way he makes certain choices about Eddie regarding Buck that are similar to the ones he made about Eddie regarding Shannon, and this is it.

The whole thing started with the way Eddie looks away from things that make him experience intense feelings, but mostly when he doesn't like what he's feeling in a sense. He looks away from Shannon all of the time, when they're fighting, before she goes to the school, and in the firehouse, when she says she wants a divorce.

He's avoiding his parents eyes when they are trying to take Christopher, he looks away from Frank all the time.

He can't look Buck in the eye when Buck is trying to tell him that Chris got lost in the tsunami, he looks away from Ana because he knows he's hurting her (he does force himself to watch Shannon as she dies but I feel like that's a lot more about his loyalty/instinct to protect because that moment is fully about her because she's dying).

That's a consistent trait Ryan gave Eddie, he looks away, I think it even makes sense with the way Eddie runs away from stuff. And that makes moments when he's avoiding eye contact with Buck that much more interesting.

Because take 3a for example, buddie has quite a few emotional conversations, but during those, Eddie is mostly always staring Buck down or actively trying to force Buck to look at him (except when it comes to the fight club but the fight club is a lot more about shame in my opinion).

But when you look at the will reveal for instance, Eddie is consistently forcing himself to look back at Buck. His instinct seems to be to keep looking forward, and he needs to remember to look at Buck from time to time. (I'm not gonna put the whole scene here, but go rewatch and pay attention to where Eddie is looking)

And sure, the way Eddie simply refuses to look at anything relating to Buck's death can be seen as just "my best friend died" because any reasonable person would have an extreme reaction to watching their best friend die.

But, I don't see how that applies in the cemetery. Because Buck says "she sees me" and Eddie gives him that disbelief look and then just, stops looking. Honestly, there's no reason for that conversation not to involve them looking at each other, the point that's made that they are looking straight ahead is very interesting on its own but, like, when you add the fact that Eddie looks away from shit he doesn't want to feel/wants to run away from, that conversation has a whole other fun layer.

Even more with the way that Buck is lowkey looking like a kid tugging on your sleeve to get your attention and Eddie just refuses to look at him.

But my point really comes to the fact that these are all the same reaction.

And how do you explain the decision to make Eddie react the same way he does when Shannon is asking him to make a decision about them and then when she makes the decision herself by asking for a divorce when he thinks Buck has made a decision about them so he needs to back off?

That's his breakup face, plain and simple.

And it's not a reaction Eddie has to Shannon once, is something that is consistent with the way we see Eddie reacting to Shannon, and I personally think its a lot of the way it makes us never feel sure about the relationship, because Eddie is consistently presented to us when it comes to this as "I love her but I'm not sure about having her around". And these are his reactions to moments where Shannon makes him question where they stand. Moments where he's questioning if he actually understands where their relationship is.

You can't have Eddie question the nature of his relationship with Buck just because Buck has a crush and tell me that Eddie is experiencing purely platonic feelings.

And these are acting choices, and Ryan is very consistent about the way Eddie reacts to stuff, so the fact that he is wearing his "Shannon is making me feel thing" face says something.

I also said earlier today that Eddie is aware of his feelings because he stops saying emotional things while looking at Buck. Like, after the tsunami he is literally chasing Buck's gaze to force him to look at him, he doesn't look away from him at the grocery store or when they make up after the lawsuit or even after Buck fights with his parents, but starting with the will reveal, he looks away when saying things, and it makes me wonder if there's a level of that that is about making sure Buck can't read his reaction to what he's saying, because he doesn't want Buck to look too closely.

Anyway, that's all for today, as always, if you read this I love you <3

#911 #911 meta #buddie meta #eddiediazedit #buddie thoughts #im gonna go to bed now #i dont feel nearly as crazy about this one as i do other metas #is too many instances to be a coincidence yk? #ryan is on our side #and he put in enough work that the second they decide to make buddie canon that can just push Eddie into doing something #and make it make sense #anyway #Ryan is playing Eddie as in love with Buck and I will take no criticism #eddie diaz

[oh-stars]

Boring

Love is wanting to tell someone every little detail of your day and wanting to hear about theirs.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1309 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

Steve isn’t exciting. He knows this, he’s always known this. It’s why he hides behind fake smiles and follows the same beat as the rest of his peers rather than finding his own path like Eddie. He follows the local teams because that’s what everyone else did; he listens to pop music because that’s what’s played at parties and the first thing he hears when he turns on the radio; he wears boring clothes because his mom buys it for him and he actually likes how they look on him. 

It’s not something he put a lot of thought into until he started hanging out with Dustin and his friends, only growing when Robin came into his life and then it became this glaringly obvious problem when Eddie took an interest in him as a friend. Steve likes the mainstream, everyday boring shit that makes him blend into his peers, and fully fade to the background when he’s around his wonderfully eccentric new family. 

And now that he and Eddie are more than friends, Steve feels even more inadequate. 

His date ideas are cheesy and stereotypical. His ambitions in life start and stop at having a family in the future (which has changed since he was a kid – now he doesn’t equate having a family to a wife and 2.5 kids, but rather a cozy little life with his partner, maybe a few pets, and any nieces or nephews the party gives him. As long as he has Robin in his life and a partner, be it a wife or husband, who actually loves him, he’ll be content). Steve doesn’t have any passions he can turn into a career, and the few he did have, it’s far fetched or his body couldn’t keep up anymore even if he had the chance. 

Then there’s Eddie who shines so brightly and takes up so much space with every ounce of his personality. He has so many hobbies that could become actual careers, too many choices for him to pick from that there have been plenty of nights where he’s stayed up and talked Steve in circles over his choices. He has such strong opinions about everything, could rant for days about the lint he found in the dryer if he needed to. Nancy always says he’d be a great Phillip-buster, whatever that is, because he can just keep going without losing steam. 

He’s incredible and Steve is decidedly not. 

It’s something he ponders on his way home, nodding along to the Springsteen song playing on the radio as he heads for the trailer. It’s been a great day, one of Steve’s better ones lately, and he’s itching to revel in its many wonders with Eddie when he gets home. Nothing exciting happened, just a lot of little, wonderful moments that feel perfect to Steve. 

But they’re boring. He knows that. 

When he was a kid, he used to hear his grandparents talk about the most mundane things. His grandmother would fill his grandpa in on all the gossip she gathered from their neighbor or the way the price of milk went up at Bradley Big Buy. She’d have serious conversations with him about whether they should switch grocery stores or if going to one of the farms directly for their produce was a better idea. And in turn, he’d complain about the squeaky wheel on the mail cart at work or would go into detail about how lovely the lunch she packed him was, complimenting the sandwich like it was made of gold. 

They were the perfect couple in Steve’s eyes. He’s always wanted what they have. But his grandparents were so similar, they shared interests in ways that Steve and Eddie don’t. On paper, Steve and Eddie should clash and he knows opposites attract and all, but it doesn’t mean you want a life with them. 

So he holds in his excitement about his day. He’s just happy to have Eddie to come home to at all, that he’s allowed to just walk into the trailer and be a part of Eddie’s life. 

He parks next to Eddie’s van and pockets his keys. 

Eddie’s waiting for him by the door, perched on the dining chair. “Thought you’d be coming home soon,” Eddie says with a grin as he pops up. He loops his arms around Steve’s neck and kisses him, so sweet and soft. Another addition to Steve’s perfect day. 

Steve can’t keep the smile off his face. “I missed you,” he says, even though it’s probably too much, too sappy for Eddie. 

Instead of wrinkling his nose and making a snide comment, Eddie’s arms tighten around him as he beams, eyes crinkling with how wide his smile is. “I missed you too.” Another kiss, this one a little longer and deeper before Eddie’s pulling away with a peck. “C’mon. I’ve been losing my mind being here all by myself,” he laments, hanging from Steve a little. 

“Where are we going?” Steve asks as Eddie straightens up to drag Steve to the couch. He gets pushed onto one side as Eddie takes the other, sitting cross-legged and sideways so he can stare directly at Steve. 

“Okay,” Eddie says seriously, “tell me everything.” 

“What?” 

Eddie nudges Steve’s knee. “About your day. I want the…” His brow furrows as he looks up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over as he thinks. “What’s the sports thing I’m thinking of? With the scripts?” 

Steve cocks his head to the side. “A play?” 

“Yes!” Eddie snaps his fingers and bounces a little. “I want the play-by-play.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, quiet despite the way his heart is picking up. “It was just a day at Family Video. It’s not like I’m a doctor or something more exciting.” 

Eddie leans forward and cups his hands over Steve’s face. “Everything you do is exciting to me, baby. I like seeing the world through your eyes. So yes, tell me everything,” he says, leaning forward with each word as he squishes Steve’s cheeks. He ends it with another peck, then two more like he can’t help himself. 

Steve laughs, but twists his body to mirror Eddie’s. “It’s been a great day,” he admits, eyes drawn to the loose thread on Eddie’s cushion. “Robin brought me coffee from that new shop on Main and her dad dropped off donuts for us on his way to work. Then Mrs. Peterson came in and she wasn’t a demonic she-beast from the underworld and was actually lovely for once,” Steve says. 

“Mrs. Peterson?” Eddie gasps. “The same woman who yelled at me for almost two hours for biking through her yard as a kid?” 

“The very one,” Steve says. “I think Rob and I were both too stunned to speak for a good thirty minutes after.” 

Eddie shakes his head, eyes bright with genuine interest – almost like he’s mystified. “See, this is the shit I wouldn’t believe if it came from anyone else but you.”

“What’s that mean?” Steve asks, softer but not harsh like he thought it would sound. Not that he wants to – he just knows how he comes off sometimes. 

“You,” Eddie says, poking Steve’s chest, “are special. You always bring the best out of people, man. Including grouchy old ladies who sold their souls to the devil for fresh gardenias in their flowerbeds.” 

Steve laughs and tilts forward so he’s practically in Eddie’s lap. They shift quietly so Steve’s laying on Eddie fully, arms wrapped around his middle. “You make it sound like I’ve got something exciting to say. It’s just boring shit.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You, Steve Harrington, are so far from boring,” Eddie whispers against his ear. 

And deep down, Steve thinks he may actually believe him. 

Steve lifts his head to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “Your turn. Tell me something about your day.” 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #ohstars posting challenge

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah!! I’m just imagining one night reader and Eddie’s pillow talk after a long day with Dorothy or even when she was pregnant and I know reader sneaks in wanting cheese fries into the conversation 😂 I love them!!💕💕

Hiii babes!! I love this because you know their pillow talk is just so random especially when she was pregnant😂 so I hope you enjoy these little glimpses into what their late night convos are like!💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here

“Jesus Christ why are your feet so fucking cold?” “I was too sleepy to put socks on…stop moving Eddie how am I supposed to shove them between yours if you keep wiggling away from me?” “That’s the point you can’t…just let me go get you some socks so we can both get comfortable.” “I’m perfectly content…” “yeah well it feels like I have actual ice cubes on my feet so I’m gonna-” “You’re ruining this moment you asshole just lay down and let me cuddle you.” “But…but your feet…are so fucking cold baby.” “Just lay down and you’ll forget all about my feet in a few minutes.” “How will I forget?…oh is this like…your way of saying we can do sexy stuff that’ll distract me from your glacier feet?” “Yeah…go get me some socks.”

“Did I tell you what Steve told me today when he came to drop off some snacks for me at work?” “Snacks? Baby I packed you a whole fucking lunch.” “So?…what’s lunch have to do with snacks? Oh hand me my chapstick please.” “Here…I guess…snacks and lunch don’t really have anything in common minus being food…but no what did Steve tell you?” “He said he has a date!” “He’s Steve…he always has a date.” “Don’t be an asshole Eddie he’s really excited about this one…wants me to meet her this weekend.” “He wants you to meet her?…Why?” “What do you mean why?” “Is he trying to scare her off?” “Edward James Munson what the fuck is wrong with you?” “Ouch you’re so violent before bed…I’m just saying We all remember what happened with the last girl he brought over…” “She tried to take a bite of my Mac and cheese…I was like eight months pregnant you can’t just try to take my food without me screaming or crying…” “yeah well you ended up doing both…” “I’m his bestfriend Eddie he just wants to get my opinion on her that’s all…” “and probably show off his uncle skills with Dotty…he knows girls melt at the sight of a man holding a baby.” “That’s true…you look dreamy holding Dotty.” “Do I really?” “Yes but do go getting all cocky about it…”

“Is that my shirt?” “No it’s mine.” “Baby…did you go into my dresser and steal another one of my shirts?” “No…I went into the closet and stole one of your shirts…they are perfect for sleeping and you sleep half naked so figured it’s fine.” “Yeah yeah it’s fine…can you uh..is it okay if we cuddle a little before bed? I’ve had a long day.” “We cuddle every night before bed…” “i mean uhm..like can..I uh-” “you wanna be the little spoon don’t you?” “Yes.” “Fine but only if you put your hair up so it’s not all in my face…you know I hate when it gets in my mouth.” “Of course…I love you.” “I love you too now come to momma…tell me all about your day.” “You know how I feel about you calling yourself momma in the bedroom.” “Oh right forgot no momma for me but daddy for you is allowed…that’s so rude.” “Don’t start with the daddy thing unless you’re in the mood to fool around….” “Did you use a new body wash? You smell like…lavender?” “I accidentally used the bed time baby wash we use for Dotty…I thought it was one of your fancy ones…” “it smells nice…god you’re so warm it’s like you’re my own space heater.” “Yeah we need to get your levels checked because it’s like frosty the fucking snowman is spooning me right now.” “At least I didn’t forget my socks this time.” “Thank god for that…”

“When did you know you were in love with me?” “What?” “When did you realize you were in love with me? I mean it took you months to even ask me on a date so I’m just curious.” “Oh uh well…I kinda knew the moment I saw you shove a whole chicken nugget into your mouth and wash it down with a milkshake after we bought Dotty’s crib….I just looked at you and thought…yeah…that’s her…she’s the one.” “What the fuck Eddie that was like a whole month before my baby shower.” “Yeah…I know…but I didn’t wanna freak you out so I figured a date first would be smart.” “For me it was when you came to pick me up from lovers lake at like three in the morning because my car wouldn’t start…that’s when I kinda started seeing you as someone I could actually enjoy being around.” “That’s the first time I stayed the night with you.” “I know…I just enjoyed you being around and when I woke up and you were still there it just…meant a lot to me.” “I’ll always be here…I’m not going anywhere.” “I know…” “I love you…I’d marry you if you’d stop telling me no.” “I love you too…I know you would…but I’m never gonna say yes…sorry.” “It’s fine baby…I’m never gonna stop asking….ya know just incase you change your mind.”

#one night stand convos #eddie munson au #Eddie Munson conversations #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson series #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson #my little dungeon master baby #eddie munson fanfic

[solarmorrigan]

Actually infertile omega!Steve for the WIP ask thing

Y'know what, you're the only person who's asked about this and this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I don't think I'm ever going to develop it past this point, so! I'm just gonna give you the whole thing

Fair warning, I did write this in the midst of an anxiety attack sometime after one in the morning. It's been edited! But that's pretty much the vibe

[CW: ableism, internalized ableism, uh... sexism? is that a thing I need to warn for in omegaverse? I dunno, it pretty closely mirrors real-world misogynistic views, so heads up]

-

Give me omega Steve who genuinely will never be able to have children. Who is tentatively excited after the Upside Down and Vecna and everything to get out from under his parents' influence and stop taking the harsh, heavy-duty suppressants that he was too young to have ever really been on in the first place and to get to actually be who he is. To get to freely express his designation

And instead he finds out that his body is fucked up and he'll never have a normal fertility cycle and he'll never be able to have kids

Give me Steve being told by a shitty, prejudiced doctor that it's basically all his fault for all the damage he's done to his own body over the years - the head injuries, the broken bones, the mysterious flesh wounds. Clearly these things upset the balance of his Delicate Omega Body and that's why his reproductive system is all fucked up (couldn't possibly have been the extended use of those suppressant drugs during his developmental years, oh no)

And Steve isn't exactly devastated at first, but he does feel ashamed. He only admits what's happened to Robin and no one else, and no matter how indignant she gets on his behalf, no matter how hard she tries to push him to get a second opinion, he refuses. He doesn't want to hear how bad he's fucked up from anyone else, thank you very much

The devastation dawns on him later, in stages. It occurs to him slowly what he'll never be able to do, the ways in which he'll always be othered by a society that often still values omegas for their fertility, the way his dream of a big family has been completely shattered

And it occurs to him that he'll never be considered a good mate, damaged in so many ways, unable to even offer children in exchange for whatever other shortcomings he has - which means that as soon as Eddie starts showing interest in him, he has to shut it down as quickly as possible

Because of course Eddie's going to want a family one day, and Steve thinks he'll be a great alpha and a great dad, and he deserves that - he deserves someone who can give him that, who can give him all the things A Good Omega should. So no matter how much Steve wants to be with Eddie, no matter how safe and at ease he feels around him, he can't let Eddie think he's a viable option, and pulls away

And Eddie - well, look, if Steve really doesn't want him, then he'll respect that. He can take no for an answer. But Steve has never really given him a clear no so much as he just started distancing himself. Making himself unavailable, no longer sitting next to Eddie when the whole group hangs out, no longer unconsciously curling into his side on movie nights, just - ghosting, essentially. And that, Eddie will not take

So he confronts Steve; he's not aggressive about it, of course, but he makes it clear that he's not leaving until he gets a straight answer. Tells Steve he's been getting some real mixed signals, and does he want Eddie or not?

Steve says Eddie doesn't want him. Eddie calls bullshit. Of course he wants Steve, he's never wanted anything, anyone, in his life like he wants Steve

But if Steve can look Eddie in the eye and tell him that he doesn't want to be with Eddie, then Eddie will go

And Steve - he's never been a good liar. Not when it comes to feelings. He's never been able to lie about that, so he breaks down and admits the truth, instead: he's a fucked up excuse for an omega, he can't have kids, he doesn't really even know how to do the social shit omegas are supposed to know how to do, so. There. So Eddie shouldn't want him

And Eddie is horrified. Not because Steve is "broken," but because of all the hurt he's taken on over the years, because of the way he seems to think it's all his fault, because he thinks his only worth as a mate is in bearing kids or caring for others. As if anything like that would put Eddie off - as if Steve has nothing else to offer

It's a slow process, after that, getting Steve to accept that he's desirable for who he is and not what he can do

It starts with Robin and Eddie teaming up on Steve and eventually getting him to go to another doctor, a better doctor, who promises Steve that what happened to his system is in no way his fault. It goes on with constant reassurance, which Eddie never minds providing (dramatic little shit honestly loves the opportunity to wax rhapsodic about whatever he loves, which very much includes Steve), with an unconditional acceptance from the rest of the group, with the realization that Steve already has a big family (and multiple children; like, seriously. how did he miss that. Eddie loves to tease him about it)

And eventually, when they're ready, it goes on still with the promise that they can adopt, or consider surrogacy, or just kidnap their friends' pups (Steve laughs at the last one, but Eddie notices that he doesn't say no). There is no right way to do it, no perfect way; as long as Steve just keeps being himself, Eddie will never be disappointed

#jessiedressesup #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #omegaverse #stranger things #I hope it's okay that I kinda just dumped an entire mini fic on you?? #also if anyone needs this tagged as anything I missed please let me know #solar wrote #eddiesteve #answers from solar #long post

[alucardens]

Yeah though seriously- you might not ship Buck and Tommy and that's okay- everyone is entitled to their opinion as long as it doesn't harm anyone- what makes it not okay is when you say things like you're being queerbaited- in a show that *literally* has a canon lesbian couple (where one half of the couple is a main character) SINCE the first episode of the show, that, 1) consistently, as a couple, have storylines that get resolved in a way that shows the writers aren't brushing the characters away, and arcs that show character growth.

2) NONE. NONE. Of the canonically queer characters have been harmed in a way that resulted in permanent death. And when they do get in harms way (which is inevitable- this is the nature of the show), it's done in a thoughtful way- their actions and risk of death/ injury WOULD add something to the plot/ storyline. Their loss would have an impact on us as the viewer. They would not be meaningless deaths. And aside from death, even queer characters who 'exit the main storyline of the show' but are otherwise alive, are still done with thought and care. I mean, (and spoilers for the first few seasons of the show,) Michael's storyline lasted (iirc) about 3-5? seasons. (We are not talking about meta events such as why they removed the actor from the show). He and his (named AND on-screen) husband, David, move to help people. His husband is literally a neurosurgeon. There was literally an episode revolving around Michael's proposal to David. Even after they've moved away, they're STILL referenced and talked about. They're not pushed away or ignored like the way some shows treat characters who aren't there anymore.

Josh (my bby fr), who's also been canonically gay since his first appearance, also has a arc that's real and very very relatable to most of us. The show takes it fucking seriously as well. And Josh is GOOD. Even as a side character, he's not reduced to the 'gay best friend'. As I said, he has his own storyline and arc, he has his own opinions, he's good at his job.

Aside from the main characters, imo, 911 also does a damn good job of showing that queer people exist. You might not like it because 'oh they're showing queer people who are in danger/ not happy/ dying.' To which I'd respond by saying that you're watching a show about paramedics. As much as we like to say this is the gay firefighter show (accurate lmao), we need to remember that there's going to be dark themes in this show.

I don't remember every call they've come across that involved queer people, but we for sure remember the 'we ever only wanted to go together' scene, with the elderly husbands. Yes it involves death. That's why we're seeing this scene in the first place- the engine wouldn't have to respond to a call if there wasn't a call in the first place. But it also fucking shows queer people growing old together and making a life for themselves. The opening scene is literally a montage of the husbands' relationship over the years. I don't know how many mainstream shows put that much fucking care in queer characters.

And then there's also the wlw couple in that car accident thing- not as significant as the husbands but like, that's the point, is it not? Not all their calls are significant- we don't even see all of them. The point is that they just show queer people existing as a general thing. It's not strange that the two women who were in the same car in a crash are both gay. There's no weird over-sexualised kiss. There's no show or mention or even hint of homophobia or confusion by the firefighters. It's fucking normal. So yeah. Do I ship endgame Tevan? Not at this moment. Do I like them together as a couple right now? Fucking yes. My personal opinion is that I like Buck and Eddie together more (at least for now), but why would I not ship Tommy and Buck right now? It makes no fucking sense not to. Buck is in a happy (queer) relationship, he's still figuring himself out as a bi man in his 30s, he's dating a masc man, who's past is messy and has since grown (oh look at that, another character arc revolving around a queer person), and they're clearly fucking happy together.

Anyway. I have a lot of feelings about this lmao. You want proper bi representation? Bro. I don't know what to tell you but you're looking at it.

#buddie #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 season 7 #tevan #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #911 discourse

[theemporium]

[3.3k] after a conversation with steve leaves him haunted with ideas, eddie takes it upon himself to create the perfect circumstances to live out his car sex fantasy. (smut)

based off this request

.

In all fairness, the date wasn’t technically based on a lie. 

Between class assignments, after-school jobs and Eddie working on the latest campaign before he officially handed the club off to the younger boys, there hadn’t been much time for you two to just spend it…together. 

Sure, there were the odd nights you’d head over to the trailer park or he would head over to your house, but neither of you ever stayed up late enough to enjoy the time together. Nine out of ten times, you’d both be so caught up with your own things that the first time you really got a moment alone from everything would be the minutes before you passed out in bed. 

So, the idea of a random, impromptu date at the drive-in movie theatre just outside of town seemed like the perfect night you both needed after weeks of nothing. A sweet, innocent night shared together watching some trashy old movie with snacks and drinks you picked up from the 7/11 on the way—and totally nothing to do with the fantasy that had been playing over and over in his head for the last few weeks. 

Honestly, it had been Steve’s fault. 

He had been hanging around Family Video a couple of weeks ago when the topic was brought up. Just a simple back and forth of the best and worst places to have sex whilst Steve sorted through the x-rated videos the store had to offer. They had been debating on whether shower sex was really worth the risk or not when Steve brought it up. 

“Okay but nothing beats the back of a car,” he had commented casually, not seeming to notice the way Eddie perked up in interest. 

“Huh?”

“Like, when you’re fooling around with a girl and then she climbs into the back with that look on her face? It’s hot,” Steve said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s hot in the front seat too, but it’s a little cramped up there.” 

Eddie didn’t say anything in response because, truly, he couldn’t. He couldn’t put his two cents into the conversation, he couldn’t add in any opinions because it was never something he ever experienced. 

There had been a few hookups in the back of the van, but that was different. The back of the van was spacious and he often had pillows and blankets down to make it a little nicer. The last time he drove a car was back when Wayne was teaching him, and even then, it only took a few weeks before he got his licence. And he didn’t drive anything again until he saved up for the van, did a little work on her and had her as his very own ever since. 

Yet, there was a small part of Eddie that couldn’t help but feel like he was missing out. As Steve continued to ramble on, that pit in his stomach grew and grew into something quite like envy. 

He wanted that. He wanted the silly giggles and breathless moans when he fucked some girl in the backseat of a car. He wanted the heated windows, the bodies pressed together and the clothes abandoned on the car floor. He wanted that. 

He wanted that with you, with his pretty girl.

But he never said that to Steve. He never said that to you either. He didn’t say a damn word to anyone, and instead he formulated a plan in his head to get the fantasy he wanted. It was almost embarrassing how easily it worked. 

He waited a couple of weeks until the conversation between Steve and himself was long forgotten. He waited until it felt like a random day when he suddenly called Steve, frantic and desperate and seemingly in need of some serious help from a friend. 

“Woah, breathe! What’s wrong?” 

“It’s my van,” Eddie said as he tried to sound beat down and glum about the whole thing. “I planned the perfect date, Harrington! We’ve barely been able to each other with her college classes and my shifts at the garage, and now my stupid van won’t be ready in time for the drive in I wanted to take her to. She had been raving about it to her friends.” 

“Oh shit. When is the date?”

Eddie tried to bite back his grin. “Tomorrow night.”

“Just take my car!”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I won’t need it tomorrow night anyways. I’ll be at Robin’s.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Harrington,” Eddie breathed out a sigh of relief, a wide smile spread across his face. “I’ll promise to get it back to you in one piece.”

And possibly dry cleaned too, Eddie added as an afterthought.

With a car secure in his possession, the rest of the plan ran as smoothly as he hoped. He drove to your house, kissing away any questions you had about the car with some muttered lies about a dodgy engine problem in his van passed between before he headed towards the drive-in. 

He could barely keep his eyes off you the whole drive, but it was almost like you knew the dirty, little fantasy playing in his head. You were wearing a pretty number he swore he had never seen before, some floral dress that rests just above your knees. The straps were thinner than Eddie imagined was practically possible, and the second you shed the small cardigan off in the car, he was a fucking goner. 

He was straining in his jeans by the time you pulled into the drive-in, jammed between two massive pick-up trucks and, god, Eddie had never been more grateful and convinced that a superior being existed. 

Eddie tried to take it slow. He tried to let the moment come naturally. He watched as you pushed your seat all the way back, allowed himself to do the same and he tried to focus on the movie. He really, really tried. But then you had kicked your feet up on the dashboard, your skirt had ridden up just enough for him to see the pair of cotton panties you were wearing and his brain went totally blank.

“You’re staring, pretty boy.” 

He blinked, taking a few seconds to realise you had actually said something to him. “What?” 

It felt like someone caved his chest in when you smiled at him. “I said, you’re staring,” you repeated, looking far too amused at the clueless expression on his face. “You haven’t even looked at the screen in the last fifteen minutes.”

“Must be a pretty boring movie then,” he answered with a shrug. 

You raised your brows. “So you’re watching me instead?” 

“You’re pretty damn spectacular, babe,” he replied. 

“Me or my legs?” You teased. 

“Both,” he answered shamelessly, and you couldn’t help but let out a snort. 

“Watch the movie, Eds,” you told him, shaking your head as you turned to look out the front window towards the screen again. However, your attention quickly shifted back to the boy in the driver seat when his hand landed just above your knee. “Can I help you?” 

“It’s a boring movie, babe,” he said, his fingers gliding along your skin and it took everything in you to not shiver at the feather-light touches. “A waste of time, if I’m being honest. We could always get Steve to slip it to us for free for a couple of hours.”

“Hm,” you hummed, trying to act nonchalant as you focused your gaze on his face and not the way his pretty fingers looked dancing across your skin. “And what do you propose we do instead then? The movie is two hours long. You gonna entertain me, Munson?”

His lips twitched upwards. “I have some ideas on how to keep you preoccupied, baby.”

“Like staring at me?”

“Like fucking you dumb in the backseat.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock at the blunt words that just left your boyfriend’s lips, and you waited. You waited for him to crack some joke. You waited for him to grin and wave it off, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at you like he was a starved man, like he wanted to fucking ravish you—and honestly, you wanted it too.

“Eddie,” you murmured, shifting in your seat as he squeezed your thigh. “We can’t.”

He raised his brows. “Why not?”

“We are surrounded by people,” you muttered, your cheeks feeling warm and heated as you glanced around at all the cars parked in the drive-in. You were completely surrounded. There was no way somebody wouldn’t catch you. 

“Scared?” He teased with a grin that felt a little sadistic.

“Eddie.”

“Just a lil’ good girl, aren’t you? Not wanting to get caught…not wanting anyone to see how need you get for me,” Eddie mused, something in his eyes darkening as he continued to trace his fingers along your thigh. 

Your breath hitched as he reached the hem of your skirt. “Eddie—”

“It’s a shame I don’t believe you, honey,” he murmured as his eyes snapped back up towards you, as he watched your face carefully as his fingers slid underneath your dress and lightly grazed your clothed cunt. “Not when you’re this fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you.” 

“I–” You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t. Not when his thumb pressed down on your clit. 

“You can act like a good girl all you want but I know the truth, baby,” he hummed as he watched your hand dart down to grip his wrist—but not to push him away. No, you were keeping his hand locked in place like you were scared he was going to move away. “You fucking love the idea. You fucking love the idea that anyone could see what a desperate little slut you become for my cock, hm?”

“Please,” you breathed out, your head falling back against the seat as your legs opened slightly wider. 

Eddie didn’t even bother to hide his grin as he pulled his hand back, listening to the way you whined at the loss. “Take them off.” 

You blinked, your heart beating wildly in your chest. “What—”

“Off. Now.” 

You didn’t waste any time as your thumbs hooked on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs and barely making it past your ankles before Eddie balled the fabric up and shoved it into his pocket. You didn’t even get a chance to comment on how quick he was before the boy was pushing your legs open once again, the fabric of your dress pooled at your hips and your pussy on display for him. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself, before he lifted his hand to slowly trace his fingers over your soaked cunt. You shivered at the soft touches, your thighs instinctively moving to clench shut but he pushed them open again. “Nuh uh, honey, not letting you hide from me.”

“Eddie,” you whined, a little too desperate when he had barely touched you but you didn’t care. “Please. Fuck, please.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, his tone almost tipping over that line of condescending. But honestly, it just made the coil in your stomach tighten. You liked it when he was a little mean. You liked it when he knew just what you wanted. “Gonna make my girl feel good. Promise.”

One hand gripped the fabric of your dress, letting it bunch in your first as your other hand pressed against the window. You tried to keep quiet. You tried to remind yourself that cars were far from soundproof. You tried to remind yourself that you were surrounded by other movie-watchers. You tried to remind yourself that anybody could look over and see you. 

But it was really hard to care about anything other than Eddie burying two fingers inside you, pumping and curling his fingers in a way that had you arching off your seat. 

And Eddie couldn’t help but watch, completely enthralled. 

He didn’t give two shits about the movie when he had you. The way you squirmed and wiggled in the passenger seat, your nails digging into the fabric of the seat and scratching along the car door as he continued to thrust his fingers inside you. The way you clenched around him, incoherent babbles and needy noises leaving your mouth as you reached closer and closer to your edge. The way you looked so fucking pretty with flushed cheeks and glossy eyes and he had barely fucking touched you. 

This was a movie he could never get sick off. This was a movie he could never look away from even if he tried. 

And fuck, the way you were far too loud when you came. The way he was so fucking sure that either patrons in the trucks beside you could have heard you, could have looked over and seen you coming around his fingers as you cried out his name. The way Eddie felt something quite like pride burst in his chest at the idea. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, his thumb brushing over your sensitive clit as your body convulsed at the burst of pleasure. “Told you I know what my pretty girl wants.” 

“Eds,” you mumbled, somewhere lost between pleasure and desire as you watched him slide his fingers out of you. As you watched him bring his fingers to his lips, shamelessly sucking off the mess you made and groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. As you watched his eyes roll back as he savoured the moment. 

And before you could even let yourself catch your breath, his hand slapping the inside of your thigh as he flashed you a smirk. 

“Get that pretty ass in the backseat, baby.” 

There was something about the way you didn’t even hesitate as you clambered into the backseat of the car, even with shaky legs and panting breaths as you tried to recover from your previous orgasm. There was something about the sight of your dress pulled up over your ass, giving him a pretty view of your pussy as you climbed into the back. There was something about the fact you were so unbothered and uncaring about patrons in the drive-in hearing or seeing you now because you only had one thought on your mind—and it was his cock.

Eddie groaned at the sight of you in the backseat, biting on your bottom lip as you looked at him with a sense of urgency. You wanted him. You needed him. And fuck, if that didn’t make blood rush down to his already painfully hard cock. 

His fingers moved down to unbutton his jeans, hand slipping beneath the waistband to squeeze the bulge in his boxers for some relief but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be inside you, he needed to feel you clenching around him, he needed to have your pretty pussy wrapped around him. 

The car was already reaching a point of warmth that would start to become unbearable with too many layers. With the windows already starting to fog up and a thin layer of sweat covering your skin, Eddie barely wasted any time in shedding a few layers until the boy’s flannel and shirt were thrown somewhere on the driver’s seat and his jeans and boxers were pulled down enough for him to pull his cock out, stroking the length of himself as you quickly shifted onto your hands and knees. 

His head was brushing against the roof of the car, the vehicle had probably already rocked a suspicious amount to the people around you and Eddie was certain that if somebody passed right now, they would get a direct view of his ass—but he didn’t care as he gripped your hips, pulling you back until your ass was flush against his pelvis and his cock was buried deep inside you.

“Shit,” he breathed out, his chin tucked against his chest as he watched the sight of your cunt swallowing his cock. He let out a whimpering noise when your walls clenched around him, squeezing him so tight he could have sworn he would’ve come instantly if he wasn’t using every ounce of self-control to hold himself back. “Feel like fuckin’ heaven, honey.”

“Please,” you whined, pushing back against him as your nails dug into the material of the seats. “You promised.” 

“I know, I know,” he cooed, that hint of the patronising tone lacing his words again and making you clench around him. “Gonna do what I promised, baby. Gonna fuck you dumb and make sure everybody in this drive-in knows it.” 

It shouldn’t have turned you on so much. It shouldn’t have made your stomach dip in desire. It shouldn’t have made your head spin with a kind of dizziness only Eddie Munson could bring. 

And yet, it did. 

And you were absolutely fucking shameless about it. You didn’t care what your patrons thought. You didn’t care if there were people there you knew and would see. You didn’t care about anything when Eddie was pounding into you from behind, your face squished against the car seat as he kept going and going and going. 

You didn’t care about drawing the attention of others as the car rocked with his movements, or the fact your hand pressed against the foggy window gave everyone a clear indication of what was happening. Not when the debauch noises of Eddie fucking you echoed through the car, the shameless sign of how much you loved this. 

You didn’t care about anything other than the bruising grip on your waist as he fucked your soaking pussy, as your walls clenched around him, as you moaned his name over and over and over until you felt white spots dotting your vision as you came around his cock. 

You could barely comprehend the world around as his fingers slipped into your mouth to muffle the whimpering moans you let out, to keep them just for himself as he thrusted one, two, three more times until he finally let himself go. You barely cared about anything else as you lazily sucked on his fingers, a low groan of appreciation sounding through the car as you felt him hunch over you, cooing at how well you did for him.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured as he pressed chaste kisses to your cheek, watching the way you blinked up at him as your tongue wrapped around his digits in your mouth. “God, you’re a fucking dream, baby.” 

“Hmmm,” you hummed, pleased with his response. 

You let out a huff of annoyance when he pulled his fingers from your mouth, but seemed happy enough that he showed no signs of moving from his spot just yet. Something about the weight of his body on top of you and his cock still buried deep inside you was oddly calming, and it wasn’t something you were willing to give up just yet.

“What are the chances Harrington never finds out we fucked in his car?” Eddie wondered out loud after a few beats of silence, causing you to let out a snort in response.

“Very, very low,” you murmured as you turned your head to the side so you could look up at your boyfriend. “I would recommend getting it dry cleaned. Maybe blessed by a priest.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s a tad dramatic.”

“I can feel your cum dripping down my leg and onto the seats,” you bluntly pointed out, but your lips were still twitched upwards in a smirk. “I’d hardly say that’s me being dramatic.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie groaned as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, leaving soft kisses between words. “I’ll get it dry cleaned.”

“Good.”

“After a few more rounds.”

“Eddie!”

“What, baby? I have a few more fantasies I wanna play out and that dress isn’t helping,” he murmured, though you could feel his smirk against your skin. “If anything this is your fault.”

“Really?” You deadpanned. 

But the boy just flashed you an innocent smile, one that looked so sweet but you knew held a million untold, dirty promises in it.

.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things smut

[thornsnvultures]

eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader, 18+

a little drabble loosely based on this text post cause I was having a feeling-bad-about-my-body day and I know eddie would be having absolutely none of that ♡

---

Thick, ringed fingers holding you, pressing into where your tummy dips and fold and rolls. Your legs are spread wide, Eddie's thighs holding yours open, leaving you exposed, bared completely to the mirror in front of you. It's hard to look at first, your head turning into the soft curls at his neck, hiding from your reflection.

"Uh-uh. Look, baby. Look'it how she opens up for me."

It took a long time, learning how not to hate yourself. Learning that everything you hated about you was the opinion of someone who didn't love you, didn't care. It took a long time to look in the mirror and be okay, to accept. Not always celebrating, or loving, but sometimes admiring, appreciating. Understanding that your body didn't hold the entirety of your worth.

And Eddie did enough loving for the both of you anyway.

For a while you stayed away from skinny boys like him, afraid they'd do more damage to all that hard work. But Eddie... there was something different about him. You knew it right away. He wasn't ashamed to be seen with you, wasn't asking you to stay the night only to pretend like he didn't know who you were in front of his friends. He worshipped you, fully worshipped you properly. That can't keep his hands off you, needs you by his side 24/7, thinks you've hung the moon kind of worship.

It was intense at first. You thought he'd get tired of you, move on in a week or two have his fun until something better came along. But it's been months, years of him loving you like no one else has before and, no matter your own reservations about your body, you believe him when he tells you, when he shows you just how much.

His thick fingers delve into your core, a reward for finally looking back at your reflection. The sopping wet center of you wets his winding fingers, the sound obscene as he makes tight circles around your clit.

"The prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

You want to tease, to ask just how many he's seen to make that claim, but you can't form words with the way he's jackhammering his thick fingers in and out of your cunt.

"That's it, princess. Making such a mess for me."

Eddie presses kisses to your temple, down your soft jawline. You stare with rapt attention, jaw practically hanging to the floor and eyes glazed, hazy but laser focused on the ring of your creamy juices around Eddie's knuckles.

His fingers curl into the roof of your cunt, pushing, searching for your release like he needs it more than you do. He's begging in your ear for you to give it to him.

"Show me, princess. Shhhh, I got you," his other hand moves to your clit to work the aching nub when you whine, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Give it to me. Want you to see yourself cum. You're so pretty when you cum on my cock."

Your thighs tense and shake at the mention of his cock and you're bombarded with images of him bending you over in front of this mirror, his fat cock stuffed in your cunt to the base and before you can catch your breath you're screaming, clenching down on his fingers and wailing like a cat in heat. Your eyes never leave your sweaty, heaving body in the mirror. Full breats shuddering, shaking as you gasp for air. Your tummy clenching against Eddie's arm pressed to your middle, holding you tight.

"That's it. Fuck, that's it, baby."

Eddie drags his fingers from your pussy, pulsing and grasping for his fingers, begging them not to leave.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, watching you watching him with his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Did so good for me, princess. So good, so beautiful."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #tw body insecurity #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagines #my fics #tbh i hate writing negative body shit but i needed to get this out of me

[trans-eddie]

Steve’s favorite color is yellow.

He’s given a lot of thought to his favorite color. It’s one of those things people always ask, from your very first interactions on the playground. When he was a child, it was easy; blue, because that was the normal color for boys.

When he got a little older, “normal” was no longer good enough. Tommy H told him that “normal” was boring, and didn’t stand out. If he wanted to become a Popular kid, he needed to stand out as much as he could.

Steve wanted to stand out. He wanted people to look at him, so that his parents might see how popular he was, and realize he was someone worth paying attention to.

“You need a strong favorite color.” Tommy had told him.

In middle school, Steve decided his favorite color was red. Red caught people’s eyes, red felt powerful, red got Tommy’s approval.

But his favorite color being red did not make his parents look at him, even as he graduated and moved on to high school with a buzzing reputation and all the popularity he could have dreamed of.

In high school, Steve’s parents stopped coming around. Their vacations and business trips took longer and longer, and eventually, they stopped coming home altogether. 

And the thing was, he didn’t really care all that much about the color red. When he lost the title of King, when he stopped caring about being popular, when he hated who he had been and couldn’t figure out who he wanted to be, and gave up any hope of his parents ever giving him any kind of positive attention, Steve‘s favorite color stopped being red.

He never did learn how to stop masking, though. Favorite colors, favorite movies, music preferences, they all tie into those masks, into the person you present to the world. A little adrift, Steve lost sight of any person he wanted to be, and all those things he maintained for the sake of a mask started to slip away.

“I’m worried I might not be a real person in here underneath it all,” He had told Robin once in the middle of a drive, spiraling about the void he encountered when he tried to dredge up any of his own opinions. “I feel like if no one is telling me what to do or like, or I’m not trying to meet their expectations, then I don’t know anything about myself.”

And she had calmed him down in her own awkward way, patting his shoulder like she was afraid the touch would tip him over the edge, smile a bit manic because she had no idea what to do when the driver of the car was currently bawling like a baby (her words, and a little exaggerated at that, he was tearing up at best.)

He had eventually pulled over, and she had stared him down, and rattled off a bunch of personal questions. He could find answers for none of them.

“So find them.” She’d said. “Find the things you like, what makes you happy. Don’t listen to anyone else about it, don’t think about what they want. Maybe start simple? Like your favorite color.”

So he’d tried. He’d thought, maybe it was red after all? The color of Max’s hair. Or maybe blue, because it made him think of Dustin’s ridiculous hat. Maybe green, because it was the color of spring and new things, or maybe pink, because it was pretty.

He felt lost in a sea of choices, all surrounding the one, simple, basic, childhood question most children have an answer to by the time they go to school.

Then in walked Eddie Munson.

Eddie changed a lot about his life. He hadn’t expected him to, had sort of expected him to be a blip in his radar; but Eddie is incapable of existing in the peripherals. He sauntered in with the electrifying energy of a leading man on stage, even as he cowered in a boat shed scared out of his mind, and Steve had been unable to look away.

If Robin had asked him about things he liked in the months that followed, he would have been able to confidently say Eddie Munson was among them, and wasn't that a kicker?

It was just that, Eddie was capable of walking into a room and immediately projecting every single thing about himself and what he liked into the space. You couldn’t get away from the impression of exactly who Eddie was just by the very nature of his existence.

Steve wished he were like that.

Wished he could be so self confident that he could decide what he liked without a care for what others think or how they judge him, wished he could wear it as proudly as Eddie did the patches on his vest.

(The same vest Steve still hadn’t returned.)

But he hadn’t just stolen the vest; it had been somewhat of a trade off. He had thrown his sweater at Eddie’s head shortly before diving to the depths of Lover’s Lake, only for it to never be seen again. Part of him had assumed it had just gotten swallowed up when the gate had ruptured through Hawkins.

Then Eddie had walked through the doors of the Family Video, big, dark eyes all wide and his hair piled up on his head, wearing the bright yellow of Steve’s sweater.

Steve had short circuited. Upon reboot, his first thought was, for some reason, It’s yellow. My favorite color is yellow. Yellow yellow yeLLOW YELLOW!

The second was, I like him wearing my things.

The third was, Oh. I like Eddie.

So at age twenty, Steve Harrington knows two whole things about himself: he likes Eddie Munson, and his favorite color is yellow.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #long post #fic

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Winter of 1975

Prompt Day 2: Winter Themed Sentence Starters | Word Count: 1200 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mentions of Childhood Trauma, Innuendo | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Softness, Steve POV

"Did I ever tell you about the winter of '75?" Eddie asks, curling up on the couch next to Steve, tucking his feet under him.

Steve shakes his head no, at least he doesn't think so. Or if he has, Eddie didn't word it like that.

"When you were ten?" Steve asks. 

Eddie nods, "When I was ten. My mom had died, you know, earlier that year. And my dad, well, you know."

Steve nods. He knows. He stretches his arm out, and lets Eddie curl into him.

"Well, Uncle Wayne was bound and determined to make it a good Christmas. It wasn't possible, not really, but he was gonna try his best."

Steve smiles, that sounds like Wayne. If there's anything Steve knows, it's that Wayne Munson loves Eddie. 

"Well, he took me sledding. I broke my arm. He bought a real tree. I was allergic to pine. We made hot cocoa on the stove, and I dropped it, nearly scalding my feet. Just, you know, everything that could go wrong, did. It's the Munson way," Eddie says, with a laugh. 

Steve kisses him on the head, and tries to remember what the Christmas of 1975 looked like for him. He imagines he got all the toys he wanted, and his parents hosted parties in their house that he wasn't invited to attend. Sitting on the second floor, little hands gripping the slats of the railing, just hoping to get a glimpse of what was going on, down below. Hoping to see his parents, for just a few minutes. The usual.

Those nights were always the worst. As soon as he got home from school, they'd feed him an early dinner and send him straight up to bed. And then the activity started downstairs, without him. He wonders now, as an adult, why they didn't just invite some kids? They could have still been corralled upstairs, away from the party, but he wouldn't have been all alone. Even if it was just Tommy H. That would have gone a long way to making them tolerable.

Eddie continues talking, "But Uncle Wayne kept trying. He bought me a Pet Rock," Eddie says, with a laugh. "I begged for it in the store, and it cost four dollars. He bought it and handed it over, and I opened the box. And it was a rock."

Steve laughs, he had one, too. Everybody did, he's pretty sure.

"Well, the name was pretty clear about what it was," Steve says.

"I know. I just wanted it to be something else, I guess. Something a little more lively. It was just a rock. Whoever invented that was a genius. Think of all the money they made. For rocks."

Steve smiles at him.

"But, Uncle Wayne just bought me some paints, and brushes, and told me to make it whatever I wanted it to be then."

Eddie smiles, "So I did. I gave it eyes, and some hair, and it looked a little goofy. But it had some personality."

"Like you," Steve says, hugging Eddie closer. 

Eddie just rolls his eyes, "Anyway. I loved it after that. But, I still had paint, so Uncle Wayne got me a sketchbook. And I started drawing, and then painting what I'd drawn. Like my own coloring book, but filled with everything I liked, and nothing for little babies," Eddie says, laughing. "The fridge was full of weird shit that was coming out of my brain."

Steve nods. Weird shit is still coming out of Eddie's mind, and he loves it all. Every last thing. He might not understand it all, but he likes that Eddie is curious about the world around him. That he has opinions. Strong opinions, sometimes, sure. Even wrong opinions in Steve's mind. But opinions. Eddie wants to talk about the things that run through his mind, and Steve wants him to, always willing to listen.

"Anyway. I learned to draw. To paint. To love art, because of that Pet Rock. I designed all my own tattoos. I did the Hellfire logo. It gave me an outlet I didn't know I needed or wanted."

Steve kisses his bare shoulder, hoping he'll continue. He loves to hear him talk. 

"Well, all that said," Eddie says, pulling a wrapped box out from under the coffee table, and handing it to Steve. 

It's not Christmas, not yet.

"It's not Christmas yet," Steve argues.

"It's not a Christmas present," Eddie says.

"The wrapping paper says otherwise," Steve teases, and Eddie laughs, pinching his side. It is wrapped in red, with a heavy fabric bow that there's no way Eddie did.

"Who wrapped this?" Steve follows up, needing to know. Because it damn well wasn't Eddie.

"Excuse you? You don't think I could wrap this?" Eddie asks, acting very affronted by this accusation.

Steve just raises one eyebrow.

"Erica did," Eddie mutters, "just open it."

So, Steve opens it, carefully. And when he pulls back the tissue paper, it's a painting of the two of them. From a million years ago. Walking through the forest. But it's not dark, and red, like it really was that night. Here, it's lush and green, with the sun shining overhead, casting gorgeous shadows all through the trees. 

It's stunning. 

Steve meets Eddie's eyes, "It's beautiful."

"Well, it's only beautiful because you are," Eddie says, and Steve blushes. Just a little. Even after all these years.

"When did you have time to do this?" Steve asks, because he definitely hasn't seen Eddie working on a canvas lately. He'd have noticed that. The mess alone. The mugs of dirty, paint stained water. The countertop lined with drying brushes.

He's seen no evidence of any of that. 

Eddie smiles, "I did it at Wayne's. During our Sunday morning breakfasts. We talked while I painted. And yes, I cleaned up my own messes," Eddie says, dryly.

Steve just smiles at him.

"It's really good, Eddie. Really, really good. You could do this, if you wanted to. For a living."

Eddie just laughs, "We definitely don't have the luxury of me painting with the hopes that I'll sell some of them. And that's okay. Maybe someday," Eddie says.

Steve knows he's right. They aren't exactly rolling in money, but maybe someday they'll be better off, and Eddie will be able to just stay home, doing something he loves. Wouldn't that be something?

"You know, I do have other ideas of things to paint…" Eddie trails off, and the glint in his eye means he's definitely up to no good.

"Oh lord, what?" Steve asks, suspicious of that look in his eye.

"How do you feel about posing nude for me?" Eddie asks, giving him the eyes.

Steve barks out a laugh. Sure. He'll pose nude for Eddie. It's not like he's shy or anything. Eddie has definitely seen it all before.

He only has one question.

"What are you gonna do with it once you're done?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrow, imploring for the truth.

Eddie just grins, that evil grin of his, and Steve shakes his head. Oh well. He definitely knew what he was getting into once he decided to spend his life with Eddie Munson. 

Notes: Pet Rocks were, in fact, all the rage for the Christmas of '75. A the guy who made them made, like, a million dollars. 🪨 💰

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

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#steddiemas #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #christmas fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas #artist eddie munson

[imfinereallyy]

any color looks good on you

for @spoookysix who requested fluff, and I will never deny them anything.

“I can’t believe this.” Eddie groaned as he banged his head against Robin’s bathroom counter.

“What? It looks good!” Robin pushed her hands through Eddie’s hair, the tips of her fingernails stained red. She was trying to fix the mess Eddie made, pulling his own hands away from yanking any hair out.

“Robin, the box said blue! This is so very clearly not blue! It’s red!” Eddie spun around to look at her. He expected her laughter or even a grimace at his new look, but instead, she simply had on her “you’re an idiot” look.

It was a special look she reserved for only Steve and Eddie.

“First off, did you bother checking the dye before you bought the box? People just switch it sometimes.”

“Well—“ Eddie was prepared to lie, but one scathing look from the lanky girl stopped him in his tracks. “—no.”

Robin tsked, “Classic dying one-oh-one, always check the box.”

“Get off your high horse, Robbie; what do you know?”

“Clearly my ‘you’re an idiot’ face wasn’t enough—“ Eddie knew the look was special “—you’re an idiot, Munson.”

“Hey!”

Robin rolled her eyes and pushed on. “You literally came to me for a reason, as I have experience in the at-home dye process. As you can tell from the lovely highlights I gave myself.” She fluffed her shoulder-length hair, clearly impressed with herself.

“It still looks terrible.”

“Jesus, Eddie. You’re such a drama queen. It looks great! Besides, it's not like you bleached it; your hair is just tinted red. You look hot."

"Says the lesbian!"

Robin looked like she was about to protest until a sudden noise came from the living room.

"Robs! I'm home! I got the Vaseline you asked for, which I still don't understand what you need for." Steve's voice echoed throughout the apartment.

Robin got a wicked grin on her face, one Eddie had never seen before. It was worse than her idiot face. "Well, if my lesbianism offends you so greatly, why don't we get someone who's more your style? Hmmmm?"

Eddie scrambled after Robin, who was already wrenching the door wide open, "No, please. Robin, I'm sorry! I won't ever question you again!"

It was too late; Robin was a woman on a mission. "Oh, Steven dear! Would you please make your way to the bathroom? I want your opinion on something."

Eddie debated making a break for it through the window. His hopes were destroyed seconds after when he remembered they were on the third floor.

Steve sighed, but his footsteps approached the bathroom. "Not even my name, Robin. And I swear if you are asking me if you have a mustache again, I will—" Steve stopped at the sight of Eddie. Silence filled the room as he stared.

Maybe Eddie could survive with a broken foot.

Robin pinched Eddie when she noticed his line of sight. "Ow! This is homophobia!"

Eddie's yelling seemed to snap Steve out of it. "New hair?" He hadn't moved from his spot in the entryway, seemingly rooted to place. A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he eyed Eddie.

Eddie pulled a piece of hair in front of his mouth, suddenly nervous. "Yeah, it—uh—it looks silly, I know. The box said blue, and it was supposed to make the black deeper, and someone switched the dye—"

"Can I get a closer look?" Steve interrupts.

"What?" Eddie startled.

This time, Steve stepped forward, placing himself in Eddie's space. His fingers brushed the hair out of Eddie's hands to behind his ear. "Do you mind if I...?"

Eddie nodded frantically as all words escaped him.

Steve's thumb brushed Eddie's cheekbone, a gentle rhythm to soothe him. Steve moved his hand into Eddie's curls, never once breaking eye contact. "Pretty."

It was Eddie's turn to blush, "Tha—thanks. I am, uh, know it's strange."

As Steve hummed, Eddie could hear Robin fake gagging in the background. Eddie kicked her shin. "Sure, it could be strange. But I think that's fitting for you. Besides, I think any color would look nice on you. This one is especially gorgeous, though." Steve's hand lingered on the back of Eddie's neck as he stroked his hair.

Eddie was going to pass out. "Really?"

"Yea, Eds. You're always beautiful."

The two stared for a moment, lost in each other. Eddie wondered if this moment meant something. The glimmer in Steve's eye told him yes.

A throat cleared behind them, "As lovely and obviously very straight as this moment is, are you over your breakdown now? Can I go study?"

Steve laughed but didn't let go of the back of Steve's neck, the moment not quite as broken as Eddie thought it would be.

"Yea, Robs, go study. Think I'm going to braid Eddie's new hair for him."

Eddie was sure his cheeks matched his hair, red and blotchy. Steve seemed to like them both, though, so he made sure not to complain again.

"Disgusting." Robin pushed her way through the both of them, throwing an "A thank you would be nice!" over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Robin!" Eddie shouted, eyes never leaving Steve.

Steve tugged on a curl and grinned, "Yea, thanks, bobby!"

**

#steddie #they are all disaster gays i love them #robin is the at home hair dye queen #lui my love i hope you enjoy #platonic stobin #eddie munson and robin buckley friendship #fics for my moots #my writing #robin buckley #eddie munson #steve harrington