dreamsteddie

[dreamsteddie]

s1 steddie for today

[dreamsteddie]

🍑?

[dreamsteddie]

Somebody stop me

[dreamsteddie]

🤨🫵🏳️‍🌈

[dreamsteddie]

He's just a little guy

[dreamsteddie]

I heard we’re in Steddie Summer again

[dreamsteddie]

[dreamsteddie]

@absentminded001 but of course! @munsonfamilyband also had some great tags about an almost equally misinformed Steve who is glanced by the Upsidedown BS and doesn't ask questions.

I think they get together pretty quickly after season four and Eddie just keeps going to Steve as his main source of information. He asks about Starcourt and all Steve can really remember is the tourture, drugs, and Billy dying but everything mostly feels like a fever dream.

This leads Eddie to thinking that he was RIGHT the Russians WERE with the mob and they were using the UD to cover up their drug ring in Hawkins! Maybe they're even still around!

Steve has no issue with this theory and helps Eddie look into it.

Background character Eddie, seasons 1-3, who's crush heightened awareness of Steve due to his proximity to the crowd Eddie loathes leads him to making several theories about the odd stuff happening in Hawkins.

Every theory is incorrect. Just completely off the mark.

After season one, he overhears people talking about Will Byers and knows that Steve got the shit beat out of him by Jonathan and figures pretty much what everyone else does. But then, he catches all three of them hanging out in secluded corners, whispering quetly and leaning, pulling apart swiftly the couple of times they notice him, and he gets other ideas.

He knows Barb went missing, and rumor has it she was last seen by Nancy at the Harrington house. Everyone seems to have brushed it off, the search ongoing, but Eddie gets it in his head that maybe they should look again. He pokes around the Harrington house a couple of times at night, but never finds anything besides a closed pool.

When season two happens and the whole thing with Hawkin's Lab is revealed, he feels both relieved and a little dejected. He really thought he cracked something there, and thinking Steve might have been a murderer was really doing wonders to squash his crush.

But now Eddie is convinced that the leak reached the Harrington house too, because nothing else explains the sudden change in personality. He's actually convinced that everyone in town is slowly being poisoned because so many people are acting strange these days, talking about feral rats and murdered journalists and the bad omen of Halloween.

Eddie makes monthly trips to the closest city for almost a year, demanding that Wayne and him only drink the bottled stuff. He tries to get his friends to do it too, but they all argue that if the water was poisoned, they'd all already be dead anyway.

Eddie has a very complicated home set up for music that includes some pretty powerful radio equipment, knowledge provided courtesy Scott Clark's AV club back in the day, to pick up radio channels from the bigger cities. One day he's surfing for some new channels when he picks up some strange frequencies. It's gibberish to him, but he's pretty sure it's some kind of language.

He makes the guys come over and try to figure it out, and they identify it as Russian pretty quickly. Their combined efforts only get them a couple of strange words before it abruptly cuts off. Less than an hour later, they're all getting the emergency broadcast about Starcourt burning down.

Eddie doesn't believe for a second that it is a coincidence, and with Steve and his merry gang being the only survivors, he knows he has to be involved somehow.

He's always wondered why Steve had to have a job with parents as reach and influential as the Harringtons. One late night while he's ruminating on it in his bed, it hits him.

The Russian Mob! Steve and his family must be involved! That's gotta be it!

[dreamsteddie]

Yesterday, before sleeping I was having ✨ omegaverse thoughts ✨ about Eddie (Munson)

At first his nest would be the most confusing mix of leather, flannel and jeans - not very comfortable to lay on, but drenched in Wayne's scent, the last family he has.

Then, as he and the Hellfire boys become closer and closer, he starts incorporating their clothes too. Since none of them are omegas, he gets their best softest clothes, yes even that ugly red and blue shirt Jeff's mom gave him for the 4th of July. So now, his nest has a bit of color, a bit cush so to say...

It isn't until he's out of the hospital, body stitched back together to a semblance of human, that the nest becomes complete. The party tries to be nonchalant about it, but if Nancy lends him a pink cardigan she never gets back, and Dustin tells him he doesn't even use that scarf anymore, and Red keeps uncomfortably leaving her beanies around, he doesn't comment.

It isn't until his next pre-heat, body finally adjusting, that it happens. Until now, the only party member not overly present in his nest is Steve. Eddie tries not to mention it, nor let it get to him, but he thought they had reached some sort of friendship after the world end.

So he's sorting through his heat tapes (filled with comforting songs, that do best to calm him down when in the throes of horniness) when the door gets knocked. He sighs, irritated, wanting to just yell at whoever it is to go away and leave him be, but he takes one big breath and raises from his nest.

On the other side of the open door is Steve, with what seems to be half his house in a bag and a poorly balanced dish on his arms. He startles when he looks up at Eddie, and the dish almost falls.

"Uh..." Eddie frowns. "Heya, Stevie? Are you confused, or anything? Red's trailer is right there." He points to the newer trailer parked on the other side, twin to his own.

"Yeah, no, uh. So, the kids were saying that you're going into heat, and that's not a thing for them to talk to just anybody, and don't worry I've already told them off, but... Yeah, they were talking about how worried they were and they were planning on coming here, but I can say by experience that if one overeager pup barging into your home pre-hut... Uh, heat! Pre-heat, is already a thing of nightmares, more of them wouldn't be any better, so..."

"Stevie, you're rambling." Eddie isn't even irritated, even a lot endeared, with the way Steve seems to lose his composure and blush a pretty red that makes slick start to pool downstairs. Steve's nostrils flare, and he coughs around what sounded like a whine.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just. Here's some casserole, there's some bread in there too, you don't need to worry about making food. And here. Uh. Some, some clothes. For your nest."

Eddie gets an armful of the dish and the bag, and peering down at the contents he sees the softest cashmere sweater, wool vests, a couple of silk it seems, and even a matching sweatpants and sweatshirt. The scent of alpha, something like bread and butter and coffee and lavender, like a cozy morning of breakfast in bed, under the freshly washed sheets and covers, rises to his nose.

Eddie purrs lowly in his chest.

Steve makes a choked sound, turning Eddie's attention back to him. His face is fully and completely flushed now, his mouth is open like he's about to say something, and his eyes...

The honeyed color is almost inexistent with the size of his pupils.

Eddie's Omega preens under the attention, and he smirks.

"Well, aren't you a proper alpha, providing for his pack?" Steve's eyes get slightly unfocused, and he looks like he's about to pass out so Eddie takes some mercy on him. "Thank you so much, Stevie. It will help a lot. Maybe..." He hesitates, Steve's eyes now back to focusing on his face, standing attention to his next words. "Maybe I could treat you to a drink? Sometime? As a thank you?"

"Oh... Eddie, you don't need to..."

"But I want to!" Eddie says, more forcefully than he expected, letting the dish rest on the table right by the door and the bag fall to his feet. He takes two steps into Steve's direction before remembering himself.

"Well, then... Then okay. I will see you next week? After your heat breaks over?"

"Maybe earlier?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie smiles, and sees it reflected on Steve's face. His mouth is so pink and plush, his canines are a little extended for some reason, and his smile is so dreamy... Another wave of heat and slick escapes him. He'd be more shy, he thinks, but this is Steve and he's pre-heat.

"Maybe I should go, before I..."

"Okay. I'll call you when I'm ready for you to be over here, then?"

"Whenever you need me." He sounds kinda breathless when he says it, and it finally hits Eddie.

Oh.

Oh.

Eddie smiles, and steps back into the trailer, hand reaching for the doorknob.

"I'll take you up on that, big boy." Steve's eyes are twinkling, and Eddie feels a lot proud to be the one to put it there. He salutes Steve, bids him good bye and see you soon, closing the door behind him and waiting to hear the Beemer driving away.

When the car is sufficiently far, he squeals and blushes and does a little shimmy dance in the living room, then puts away the casserole and drops the bag's contents smack dab in the middle of his nest. He dives right in, burying his face on the clothes and purring to his heart's content.

This heat is shaping up to be one of the best heats ever.

[dreamsteddie]

May this Eddie bring you Joy :P

[dreamsteddie]

Background character Eddie, seasons 1-3, who's crush heightened awareness of Steve due to his proximity to the crowd Eddie loathes leads him to making several theories about the odd stuff happening in Hawkins.

Every theory is incorrect. Just completely off the mark.

After season one, he overhears people talking about Will Byers and knows that Steve got the shit beat out of him by Jonathan and figures pretty much what everyone else does. But then, he catches all three of them hanging out in secluded corners, whispering quetly and leaning, pulling apart swiftly the couple of times they notice him, and he gets other ideas.

He knows Barb went missing, and rumor has it she was last seen by Nancy at the Harrington house. Everyone seems to have brushed it off, the search ongoing, but Eddie gets it in his head that maybe they should look again. He pokes around the Harrington house a couple of times at night, but never finds anything besides a closed pool.

When season two happens and the whole thing with Hawkin's Lab is revealed, he feels both relieved and a little dejected. He really thought he cracked something there, and thinking Steve might have been a murderer was really doing wonders to squash his crush.

But now Eddie is convinced that the leak reached the Harrington house too, because nothing else explains the sudden change in personality. He's actually convinced that everyone in town is slowly being poisoned because so many people are acting strange these days, talking about feral rats and murdered journalists and the bad omen of Halloween.

Eddie makes monthly trips to the closest city for almost a year, demanding that Wayne and him only drink the bottled stuff. He tries to get his friends to do it too, but they all argue that if the water was poisoned, they'd all already be dead anyway.

Eddie has a very complicated home set up for music that includes some pretty powerful radio equipment, knowledge provided courtesy Scott Clark's AV club back in the day, to pick up radio channels from the bigger cities. One day he's surfing for some new channels when he picks up some strange frequencies. It's gibberish to him, but he's pretty sure it's some kind of language.

He makes the guys come over and try to figure it out, and they identify it as Russian pretty quickly. Their combined efforts only get them a couple of strange words before it abruptly cuts off. Less than an hour later, they're all getting the emergency broadcast about Starcourt burning down.

Eddie doesn't believe for a second that it is a coincidence, and with Steve and his merry gang being the only survivors, he knows he has to be involved somehow.

He's always wondered why Steve had to have a job with parents as reach and influential as the Harringtons. One late night while he's ruminating on it in his bed, it hits him.

The Russian Mob! Steve and his family must be involved! That's gotta be it!

[dreamsteddie]

Stobin Sleepover Gone Wrong

(CWs and spoilers in tags)

Robin’s slowly getting used to waking up next to Steve Harrington in the morning. It’s not a place she’d ever have thought to find herself, at least before Russian torture, truth serum, and giant interdimensional flesh monsters. She’s not complaining though, not really. His bed is squishy in the best way, and his blankets are heavy and warm like they’re made of real down. 

She feels lucky to have a friend like Steve. They didn’t really know each other that well, outside of being slightly hostile coworkers– and that might be mostly on her. Robin’s always been a little bit abrasive and a lot a bit of doesn’t-know-when-to-shut-up. Steve took it all in stride, rolling with every verbal and sometimes physical punch she sent his way. 

Which included her shooting him down and coming out as a lesbian at the same time. She anxiously watched his shocked disappointment and confusion. It would’ve made sense for her to feel afraid of what came next; outing herself as a lesbian in the middle of Indiana to a boy who had the power to get her run out of town was definitely not the best idea. Except it wasn’t only the truth serum that pushed her to confess– it was Steve, a boy who saved her life when anyone else in his position would’ve run for their life, with good reason. 

In reality, Robin was more scared she’d ruined her chance just to be his friend. Because no one would ever expect a guy like Steve to take rejection well, let alone swallow his own feelings to be supportive.

Things between them were awkward at first, especially the first time she showed up banging down his door. It was three nights after Starcourt, when she’d finally ran out of the sleeping pills the doctors prescribed her at the hospital. She’s had some normal nightmares before, like her teeth falling out, or like tripping in front of Tammy Thompson while everyone stops to laugh at her, and suddenly her clothes are gone and the word butch shows up on her forehead written in bright red lipstick. Super normal nightmares.

Night terrors, however, were a brand new experience for her. Steve even warned her they were horrible, but still failed to describe how fucking visceral they felt, or how she’d wake up screaming his name in a cold sweat. So she’d climbed on her bike and rode all the way across town to make sure he was alive. 

He didn’t even bat an eye at her when he found her standing on the front stoop shaking. Steve just led her upstairs, handed her a fresh, warm change of clothes, and gave her plenty of space to get cozy in his queen-sized bed.

It turned into a semi-regular routine. The only difference being now she tells her parents when and where she’s staying, and she shows up in the evening instead of the dead of night. Sometimes they wake up to the other tossing and turning, twisted up in the sheets like they’re fighting for their life. On better mornings, few and far between, they wake up to warm, August sunshine filtering through the curtains. 

Mornings like today, where she can feel Steve’s chest moving steadily where he’s pressed up against her, still asleep. His leg is draped over hers, his scratchy leg hair a new and unusual comfort. His breath puffing against the top of her head. His fingers twitching against her side. Robin thought she’d never enjoy waking up next to a man, and it still repulsed her when she really thought about it. 

But Steve is Steve– her dingus, her friend, her schmuck. 

She shifts slightly, trying carefully to untangle herself from his hold so she can start breakfast. And that’s when everything changes, when this morning becomes nothing like other mornings. There’s something undeniably hard and long pressed up against Robin’s hip. She can feel a tacky wet spot that’s started to cool on her borrowed basketball shorts. 

It’s a horrible, sharp reminder that Steve isn’t just Steve, he’s a man that had a crush on her, who she’s now, for some reason, sharing a fucking bed with. A dick is pressed up against her and she might vomit if she thinks about it for too long. So Robin moves again, urgent but still trying to keep her panic bottled up. He grunts softly when she tries to escape and grips her tighter– something he’s done a million times before because he’s a cuddler and she’s always been okay with that. It was always comforting to know he was there next to her.

Now it just causes his dick to shift further up her hip onto the small area of exposed skin where her shirt rucked up during the night. Thankfully he’s still tucked away, but the wet spot on his own shorts smears across her bare skin. It’s cold and gross and she can feel it sinking into the pores of her skin. She feels covered in it, like his– his come– has soaked into her forever, leaving her tainted. 

A gurgled, panicked sound escapes her throat as she violently pushes him off of her. She falls off the bed, landing uncomfortably on her side, at the same time he shouts in alarm. It’s the same noise that wakes her up during his worst nights. A sound that normally drives her to help, to hold him until the shaking stops, until his breaths even out and he falls asleep in her arms.

Which is a reaction that doesn’t make sense to her at this moment, because that’s how she feels. She’s the one that’s been stained, misled, betrayed– not him. That noise should belong to her.

Robin stands, moving away from the bed until her back smacks into his dresser, some of his swim trophies falling over with the force. The noise startles him again, enough to look at her and there it is again– the fear, the confusion. He isn’t fully awake yet, still processing his surroundings. The blankets are tangled up around his ankles, his shirt twisted around his torso and choking his neck in a way she knows he hates.

Her eyes stray downward. She can’t help herself. Like there’s a morbid car crash on the side of the road and she has to smash her nose against the window to get a better look. She can’t not look, even if she knows the sight will haunt her forever. 

It’s still there– of course it is. Hard, tenting his green basketball shorts. There’s a slightly larger wet spot on his shorts that matches hers when she looks down at herself.

She wants to cry and gag and scream but also definitely change clothes. Robin's a total idiot for thinking this was anything other than what it so obviously is in hindsight. He's playing the long game, and she fell right into it. Less and less clothes every night, with the excuse he feels like he's being strangled when he wakes up from nightmares. Less and less space between them while they sleep, with him swearing he can sleep in the spare room if it makes her uncomfortable, although now she's realizing that he probably never meant it. 

Harrington was the school's biggest slut, he's even said so himself. He probably thought he could 'turn her straight' like a lot of guys think. She knows he must've fantasized about her, thought up a hundred ways he'd love to take her. 

And here she is, wearing his clothes, sharing his bed, breathing the same air and letting his come dry on her hipbone.

“I– I have to go…” she hears herself say, slowly detaching from the world to hide herself away as she slinks towards the door.

There’s a rustling of blankets. She didn’t realize she was still staring at his lap, until a flash of blankets covers his lap. Robin finally looks into his red, watery eyes.

“Robs?” His voice cracks. 

Steve is crying. 

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move or do any of the things she knows she normally would to comfort him even though she’s never, ever, seen Steve cry before. Instead, she stands frozen against the dresser, palms pressed flat against the drawers to stop herself from tugging at her shorts. 

His eyes flit between the stain on her shorts, to her face, to the bedroom door behind her and back again. He scrunches the blankets tighter to himself and backs himself up as far away from her as he can get before he risks falling off the bed.

Lip quivering, he opens his mouth but fails to say anything. Steve’s eyes won’t meet hers again, locked firmly on the comforter in his white-knuckled grip. That’s when she notices the new wet spot forming just under him, where tears have started to drip down off of his chin.

“Robin,” he sobs, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. God this is so… this is so fucked up and– and gross. I’m gross.” He chokes on another long, ragged inhale. Body starting to shake, chest heaving too fast and too shallow, Steve curls in on himself.

He’s told her about his fits– which she’d then had to explain were called panic attacks. Apparently his first had been the day after his fight with Billy. Now that she knows exactly what happened that night, she can’t blame him. Robin’s never had one herself, or seen one in person, and couldn’t help but worry that she’d miss the signs if he had one in front of her. 

The fear in his eyes, the confused disorientation when he’d first woken up, the shaking and crying and hyperventilating are all too much, too obvious for her to miss. How could she not notice? She’s spent almost everyday with Steve Harrington for the past month, hanging out on his couch, driving around town looking for jobs, eating at the diner, arguing about who the hottest leading lady is in whatever show they’re watching.

She notices everything about him, all of the time. Robin knows when he’s hungry because he gets just a little bit bitchier. She knows when he’s tired because he talks just a little bit slower. She knows almost everything there is to know about him because they spend almost every free second they can find together.

He listens to her go on and on about how she’s never going to find a girlfriend, then argues any girl would be crazy to turn her down. They drive up to Indy on the weekends just so Robin can buy zines and hang out in the same little coffee shop with a pink triangle in the window next to a small vase of lavender stems. He gives her dating advice when she asks and laughs at the face she makes when he says ‘boobies’. 

Steve Harrington is funny, caring, loyal to a fault, and smarter than anyone gives him credit for. There’s a million, billion, trillion reasons to love him even though sometimes he makes it so damned hard.

Like right now, when he flinches as she runs towards him, crawls over the mattress and drapes herself over him in a heap. He tries to push her off, complaining over and over how she shouldn’t touch him, how he’s gross and disgusting, how he violated her trust.

Robin won’t stand for it.

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” she says, squeezing her arms around him even as he still struggles to get away. “It was an accident. It happens. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. It’s– you looked like I did something…” he trails off. She can feel him bracing himself, working up the courage to say, “I wouldn’t blame you if you left.”

Well she can’t have that either.

“You’re my dingus, Dingus. I’m not leaving you just because, for a fleeting moment, I forgot you have functioning teenage-boy anatomy.” He looks like he’s about to argue back before she cuts him off again. “Was it… about me? The dream that caused– umm.” 

She points down towards the rumpled blankets in Steve’s lap.

“No!”

“Okay,” she says, “do you have feelings for me?”

“No,” Steve sheepishly replies, “not anymore, at least.”

“Right, and even if you did–”

“I don’t!”

“Even if you did, you wouldn’t act on those feelings, right? Because you know I’m not interested in men.”

“You’re my best friend, Robs. I wouldn’t try anything even if you were straight.”

Robin's had a lot of friends growing up. She's been invited to birthday parties, sleepovers, after school study groups, and even a few house parties. Whatever the occasion, it's always a big group of people. They typically like her, and she truly likes them too. But no one's ever called her on the phone just to talk about nothing for hours, or told her about their deepest fears, or asked about her wildest dreams.

Steve does. He does all of that and more.

The point is, she has plenty of friends– but a best friend?

She can’t help but feel a little stupid about it, even breaking out into a fit of giggles because if anyone’s the dingus here, it’s herself. They do everything together. The only time she doesn’t see Steve is when her parents force her to stay home for the night, and even then half the time Steve sneaks through her bedroom window. Robin’s never spent so much time with someone without getting completely sick of them within only a few days. 

Yet, here Steve is, soaking up every moment he can steal away with her and enjoying every second of it. 

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Robin says. She leans back to get a good look at him. Steve’s got a few tear tracks staining his cheeks. Pulling up a corner of the blankets– a clean corner– she wipes the wet from his face and the drips from his nose. By the time she’s finished, he’s smiling at her. It’s a small, tentative thing, but he’s smiling and that’s all that matters. “And– if it means anything– you’re my best friend too, Dingus.”

Warmth blooms in her chest as Steve huffs a laugh. He’s loosening up, laxing his grip on the comforter, knuckles cracking as he flexes the tension out of his hands. 

Robin frowns, chewing on her lip. Instead of a nightmare, she’s the reason Steve woke up scared and crying. Her gut churns with a spark of shame, and she resolves to never again be the reason there’s fear in Steve Harrington’s eyes.

“Thanks, but uhh–” Steve hesitates, eyes skirting over her as his cheeks tinge red, “you might want to, you know… shower.” He nods down to her leg, where the stain on her shorts has hardened into a disgusting white crust. Robin does her best to keep a neutral face, resolving not to mention the even larger spot on her hip that pulls on her skin each time she moves.

Steve snorts, amused. Clearly she wasn’t as inconspicuous as she’d hoped.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

By the time she’s showered and changed into her own clothes, his bed’s been remade with fresh sheets. There aren’t any dirty shorts in the hamper but as she heads down to the kitchen she can hear the rattle of the washing machine. 

The warm, heavenly smell of coffee and frying potatoes greets her when she opens the kitchen door. Steve turns to smile at her, waving at her with the spatula still in his hand and sending a lump of hash browns onto the floor. He cringes a little but shrugs it off with a laugh, turning back to the stove. Her favorite mug sits next to the steaming pot of coffee. The sugar bowl Steve only brings out when she’s over already has a spoon in it, and she dumps three heaps into her cup.

There’s a world that exists somewhere where Robin and Steve never met. A dimension where they never worked together, were never tortured together, and aren’t haunted by nightmares together. She thinks most people would wish for that world instead– which is fair, most people would certainly give up memories of being chased by a giant flesh monster if they had the chance. 

Robin doesn’t think she’d take that deal, though, if it led her anywhere other than sitting on the countertop next to the stove, watching Steve roll his eyes at her while she chides him about his spatula techniques. 

She wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world. So there’s no way she would throw it away just because Steve’s a guy. He loves her for exactly who she is. She trusts him more than anyone in the world, and he’s never done a single thing for her to doubt him. Steve Harrington is her best friend– just like she’s his– and she smiles, knowing that that will never change. Not if she can help it.

Thank you @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for being the best beta but also just The Best in general!

[dreamsteddie]

steve’s big fat embarrassing crush on eddie pt 2

ft eddie’s big fat embarrassing crush on steve

[dreamsteddie]

Eddie sees red when he finds out Steve never had a pet when he was a kid because his parents didn’t want to ‘deal with the mess that comes with an animal’.

“What kind of bullshit excuse is that?” he asks, before he can hold back his tongue.

Steve shrugs.

He looks nonchalant about it, but Eddie knows his boyfriend too well to fall for that. Eddie is quite aware Steve often dismisses things when he thinks it is no use discussing them and he’s clearly doing it now.

So Eddie decides to take a different approach. He lets it slide; changes the subject and doesn’t mention it again for weeks.

When Steve’s birthday comes though, almost two months after their talk, Eddie come’s home after work with a cardboard box in hands and offers it to Steve with a big grin on his face.

Steve is confused at first, until he hears the soft meow coming from inside the box.

“You didn’t,” Steve says, in wonder; eyes so bright Eddie can almost see himself reflected on them.

“I did.”

Inside the box is a tiny orange kitten, meowing with all the strength she has in her little lungs and scratching the box to try and free herself.

Steve ends up naming her Zelda, because he and Eddie have spent the last two months playing A Link to the Past every single day when they are home.

“And because she’s my princess,” Steve adds, snuggling the purring cat against his chest.

He looks so happy that Eddie can’t even bring himself to feel jealous. Seeing his boyfriend smile all soft and cozy like that is more than worth it, even if Eddie now has to share Steve’s attention with someone else.

[dreamsteddie]

[dreamsteddie]

More eddie munson for you freaks

Another one (dj khaled voice)

[dreamsteddie]

I'm a bit of a common rain frog, myself.

@fuctacles @spectrum-spectre

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