oiveyzmir

[oiveyzmir]

Sapphic Steddie with Steve as a vampire for the @steddieexchange for the lovely @becomingfoxes - originally it was going to be Vampire X Vampire Hunter but I couldn’t find any vampire hunter outfits I liked enough to want to recreate. Steve’s outfit, however, is inspired by an art piece by lotusbubble on Instagram (my biggest inspiration)

Tropes used: supernatural and fantasy

I went through idea after idea and nothing felt good enough, but over the past two nights I was possessed by something and drew this! I hope you like it ❤️

Also Eddie looks so much like Joyce which is so iconic and I love that

Art below the cut because the pieces have blood in them

“I’m having a proper, full-on gay crisis.”

Alternate art:

[oiveyzmir]

Merry (Munson) Christmas, Everybody!

My @steddieexchange gift for the incredible @karies-art !

Sorry for posting so last minute, hope it's worth the wait 🤍

WC: 7.3K | Rating: E

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“So,” Steve starts after a long silence, “any plans for Christmas?”

It takes Eddie’s brain a moment too long to realize Steve’s talking to him; he’s far too busy (pathetically) watching his friend’s lips curl around the cigarette he smokes, and the way his eyelids flutter ever so slightly when he exhales the cloud of gray smoke out into the night sky. Steve’s eyes are fixed on the twinkling stars above them, so he doesn’t notice Eddie staring at him.

Or so Eddie hopes.

It had become some sort of a routine; they lay out on top of Eddie’s van nearly every other night now, smoking and joking and doing nothing together. It’s not that serious, but Eddie finds himself looking forward to spending his nights with Steve all day long like a schoolgirl with a crush. Not that he has a crush on Steve, obviously. It’s just nice to be around the guy; sue him.

“Ed?” Steve asks again, turning his head to look at Eddie who very nearly jumps out of his skin with surprise.

“Huh?”

Steve chuckles and Eddie’s heart melts. “Christmas Eve? Tomorrow? Got any plans?”

“Oh! That. Nah, man, Munson Christmas isn’t in another month,” Eddie shrugs and drags on his own cigarette to keep himself warm. It’s not snowing, at least not yet, but it absolutely could with how cold it is out here. He thinks about asking Steve to huddle up for warmth but then thinks better of it. “What about you? Are your parents back for Christmas this year?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m spending it with Dustin and Claudia this year. Wait, what’s Munson Christmas again?”

Eddie gasps, placing a horrified hand on Steve’s bicep. “Steven Harrington!” He cries. “Has’t thee not hath heard about the most wond’rful holiday of the year?”

Steve makes a point of rolling his eyes, but Eddie can see him trying very hard not to smile. His eyes dart, just for a moment, to Eddie’s hand clutching his arm. “Don’t go Shakespeare on me, man.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie, The Bard took over me for a second there,” he laughs and drops the hand from Steve’s arm and, wait, did Steve pout? “I’m just really passionate about Munson Christmas, you know?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

“I really haven’t told you about it? Weird. Anyways, Uncle Wayne and I celebrate Christmas Eve on January 24th. His boss at the Plant pays him double for working on Christmas, and we really need the money, so we just made the decision to push Christmas back a month. Made a whole bunch of traditions about it, too.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, lying on his side and propping his head up on his wrist. He watches Eddie like he actually cares about whatever it is he’s saying, which does absolutely no weird shit to Eddie’s heart, thank you very much.

Eddie shrugs it off and takes another drag of his cigarette, avoiding Steve’s intentful gaze. “We wear stupid hats. Buy each other stupid gifts. Watch stupid movies. A big celebration of stupidity.”

“God, I love your uncle Wayne,” Steve laughs. Eddie won’t ever admit how giddy the sound of it makes him feel. The musician in him cries at him to record Steve’s laughter, to preserve it, to make it into a melody he can listen to on repeat for the rest of his life. But that’s pathetic, and a whole new ballpark of weird, so he shoves it away.

He does try to make Steve laugh as often as he can, though.

Steve lies back, putting out his cigarette on the van’s roof. “That sounds like fun.”

“Hey, you can join us this year, if you’re not doing anything on the 24th?” Eddie offers as casually as he can.

“I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“Dude,” Eddie cuts him off. “You are officially invited. Need me to do it in Shakespearean or..?”

“Please don’t,” Steve laughs, sounding almost relieved.

“Art thee sure? f’r we both knoweth I can–”

“Shut up!” Steve laughs again, and Eddie has to cover his giant grin with the crook of his arm. “So, like, should I bring anything?”

“Nope, no need. Unless you’ve got a really ugly hat. If not, I’ll give you one of mine.”

“I have something, yeah.”

“Good. Dinner starts at eight,” Eddie says, than thinks again. “Probably. Hopefully. Could be at ten for all I know.”

“Got it,” Steve smiles and sits up with a grunt. “I gotta go, I promised Robin I’ll help her pack for her flight tomorrow morning.”

“What does she need you for?”

“Adult supervision,” Steve replies simply.

Eddie chuckles at that. “Oh, that makes sense. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself zipping up her suitcase.”

“Hey, that could be lethal!” Steve protests.

“Yeah, if you’re a fucking hamster. Wait, actually, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Oh my god, Eddie, shut up,” Steve tries to hide his amusement with a hand down his face, but his brilliant smile shines through.

Eddie kinda wants to kiss him. He looks away.

Steve doesn’t go. Instead he sits silently with his back straight and his eyes on the stars, and Eddie closes his own to keep himself from staring. He wonders what goes through his friend’s mind. He wonders that a lot lately. He wants to pry Steve open, find out what makes him tick, know every part of him like the back of his own hands. To make a melody not just of his laughter but of the entirety of him. He wants to have him.

He has to consciously remind himself to stop thinking about his best friend like that.

Steve speaks up again and it makes not thinking just a little bit easier. “I really gotta go. Bye, Ed. See you at Munson Christmas.” Steve says while getting up, and as he turns to climb down the van he stops. “I’ll make sure my hat is way uglier than yours.”

And then the asshole fucking winks.

Eddie’s heart somersaults in his chest and he can feel his cheeks and ears growing red hot. No one’s there to look at him anymore yet he still hides his face behind his mane of curls, trying to shudder his stupidly pathetic and pathetically stupid crush away. He groans loudly when it makes absolutely no difference.

He thinks he hears Steve laughing from beneath him. He chooses to believe he hasn’t heard anything at all.

read the rest on AO3 ♥

[oiveyzmir]

I don’t think anybody has ever explained the Upside Down to Steve so he came up with his own explanations for what happens and then spreads that misinformation around to the new members of The Party.

Like, turns out Eddie didn’t die and Steve’s just like, “Yeah, that happens. Will died and came back. Hopper…Dustin’s cat. Only seems to work with guys though. The girls never come back.”

Robin, who knows this too, “The Upside Down is sexist.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

[oiveyzmir]

Merry (Munson) Christmas, Everybody!

My @steddieexchange gift for the incredible @karies-art !

Sorry for posting so last minute, hope it's worth the wait 🤍

WC: 7.3K | Rating: E

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“So,” Steve starts after a long silence, “any plans for Christmas?”

It takes Eddie’s brain a moment too long to realize Steve’s talking to him; he’s far too busy (pathetically) watching his friend’s lips curl around the cigarette he smokes, and the way his eyelids flutter ever so slightly when he exhales the cloud of gray smoke out into the night sky. Steve’s eyes are fixed on the twinkling stars above them, so he doesn’t notice Eddie staring at him.

Or so Eddie hopes.

It had become some sort of a routine; they lay out on top of Eddie’s van nearly every other night now, smoking and joking and doing nothing together. It’s not that serious, but Eddie finds himself looking forward to spending his nights with Steve all day long like a schoolgirl with a crush. Not that he has a crush on Steve, obviously. It’s just nice to be around the guy; sue him.

“Ed?” Steve asks again, turning his head to look at Eddie who very nearly jumps out of his skin with surprise.

“Huh?”

Steve chuckles and Eddie’s heart melts. “Christmas Eve? Tomorrow? Got any plans?”

“Oh! That. Nah, man, Munson Christmas isn’t in another month,” Eddie shrugs and drags on his own cigarette to keep himself warm. It’s not snowing, at least not yet, but it absolutely could with how cold it is out here. He thinks about asking Steve to huddle up for warmth but then thinks better of it. “What about you? Are your parents back for Christmas this year?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m spending it with Dustin and Claudia this year. Wait, what’s Munson Christmas again?”

Eddie gasps, placing a horrified hand on Steve’s bicep. “Steven Harrington!” He cries. “Has’t thee not hath heard about the most wond’rful holiday of the year?”

Steve makes a point of rolling his eyes, but Eddie can see him trying very hard not to smile. His eyes dart, just for a moment, to Eddie’s hand clutching his arm. “Don’t go Shakespeare on me, man.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie, The Bard took over me for a second there,” he laughs and drops the hand from Steve’s arm and, wait, did Steve pout? “I’m just really passionate about Munson Christmas, you know?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

“I really haven’t told you about it? Weird. Anyways, Uncle Wayne and I celebrate Christmas Eve on January 24th. His boss at the Plant pays him double for working on Christmas, and we really need the money, so we just made the decision to push Christmas back a month. Made a whole bunch of traditions about it, too.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, lying on his side and propping his head up on his wrist. He watches Eddie like he actually cares about whatever it is he’s saying, which does absolutely no weird shit to Eddie’s heart, thank you very much.

Eddie shrugs it off and takes another drag of his cigarette, avoiding Steve’s intentful gaze. “We wear stupid hats. Buy each other stupid gifts. Watch stupid movies. A big celebration of stupidity.”

“God, I love your uncle Wayne,” Steve laughs. Eddie won’t ever admit how giddy the sound of it makes him feel. The musician in him cries at him to record Steve’s laughter, to preserve it, to make it into a melody he can listen to on repeat for the rest of his life. But that’s pathetic, and a whole new ballpark of weird, so he shoves it away.

He does try to make Steve laugh as often as he can, though.

Steve lies back, putting out his cigarette on the van’s roof. “That sounds like fun.”

“Hey, you can join us this year, if you’re not doing anything on the 24th?” Eddie offers as casually as he can.

“I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“Dude,” Eddie cuts him off. “You are officially invited. Need me to do it in Shakespearean or..?”

“Please don’t,” Steve laughs, sounding almost relieved.

“Art thee sure? f’r we both knoweth I can–”

“Shut up!” Steve laughs again, and Eddie has to cover his giant grin with the crook of his arm. “So, like, should I bring anything?”

“Nope, no need. Unless you’ve got a really ugly hat. If not, I’ll give you one of mine.”

“I have something, yeah.”

“Good. Dinner starts at eight,” Eddie says, than thinks again. “Probably. Hopefully. Could be at ten for all I know.”

“Got it,” Steve smiles and sits up with a grunt. “I gotta go, I promised Robin I’ll help her pack for her flight tomorrow morning.”

“What does she need you for?”

“Adult supervision,” Steve replies simply.

Eddie chuckles at that. “Oh, that makes sense. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself zipping up her suitcase.”

“Hey, that could be lethal!” Steve protests.

“Yeah, if you’re a fucking hamster. Wait, actually, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Oh my god, Eddie, shut up,” Steve tries to hide his amusement with a hand down his face, but his brilliant smile shines through.

Eddie kinda wants to kiss him. He looks away.

Steve doesn’t go. Instead he sits silently with his back straight and his eyes on the stars, and Eddie closes his own to keep himself from staring. He wonders what goes through his friend’s mind. He wonders that a lot lately. He wants to pry Steve open, find out what makes him tick, know every part of him like the back of his own hands. To make a melody not just of his laughter but of the entirety of him. He wants to have him.

He has to consciously remind himself to stop thinking about his best friend like that.

Steve speaks up again and it makes not thinking just a little bit easier. “I really gotta go. Bye, Ed. See you at Munson Christmas.” Steve says while getting up, and as he turns to climb down the van he stops. “I’ll make sure my hat is way uglier than yours.”

And then the asshole fucking winks.

Eddie’s heart somersaults in his chest and he can feel his cheeks and ears growing red hot. No one’s there to look at him anymore yet he still hides his face behind his mane of curls, trying to shudder his stupidly pathetic and pathetically stupid crush away. He groans loudly when it makes absolutely no difference.

He thinks he hears Steve laughing from beneath him. He chooses to believe he hasn’t heard anything at all.

read the rest on AO3 ♥

[oiveyzmir]

by Talar

Eddie invites Steve (who he absolutely does not have a crush on, thank you very much) for Munson Christmas. They have a little bit more fun than Eddie had expected.

Words: 7333, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Christmas Fluff, First Time, Top Steve Harrington, Bottom Eddie Munson, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Steddie Winter Exchange 2024 (Stranger Things)

[oiveyzmir]

Merry (Munson) Christmas, Everybody!

My @steddieexchange gift for the incredible @karies-art !

Sorry for posting so last minute, hope it's worth the wait 🤍

WC: 7.3K | Rating: E

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“So,” Steve starts after a long silence, “any plans for Christmas?”

It takes Eddie’s brain a moment too long to realize Steve’s talking to him; he’s far too busy (pathetically) watching his friend’s lips curl around the cigarette he smokes, and the way his eyelids flutter ever so slightly when he exhales the cloud of gray smoke out into the night sky. Steve’s eyes are fixed on the twinkling stars above them, so he doesn’t notice Eddie staring at him.

Or so Eddie hopes.

It had become some sort of a routine; they lay out on top of Eddie’s van nearly every other night now, smoking and joking and doing nothing together. It’s not that serious, but Eddie finds himself looking forward to spending his nights with Steve all day long like a schoolgirl with a crush. Not that he has a crush on Steve, obviously. It’s just nice to be around the guy; sue him.

“Ed?” Steve asks again, turning his head to look at Eddie who very nearly jumps out of his skin with surprise.

“Huh?”

Steve chuckles and Eddie’s heart melts. “Christmas Eve? Tomorrow? Got any plans?”

“Oh! That. Nah, man, Munson Christmas isn’t in another month,” Eddie shrugs and drags on his own cigarette to keep himself warm. It’s not snowing, at least not yet, but it absolutely could with how cold it is out here. He thinks about asking Steve to huddle up for warmth but then thinks better of it. “What about you? Are your parents back for Christmas this year?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m spending it with Dustin and Claudia this year. Wait, what’s Munson Christmas again?”

Eddie gasps, placing a horrified hand on Steve’s bicep. “Steven Harrington!” He cries. “Has’t thee not hath heard about the most wond’rful holiday of the year?”

Steve makes a point of rolling his eyes, but Eddie can see him trying very hard not to smile. His eyes dart, just for a moment, to Eddie’s hand clutching his arm. “Don’t go Shakespeare on me, man.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie, The Bard took over me for a second there,” he laughs and drops the hand from Steve’s arm and, wait, did Steve pout? “I’m just really passionate about Munson Christmas, you know?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

“I really haven’t told you about it? Weird. Anyways, Uncle Wayne and I celebrate Christmas Eve on January 24th. His boss at the Plant pays him double for working on Christmas, and we really need the money, so we just made the decision to push Christmas back a month. Made a whole bunch of traditions about it, too.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, lying on his side and propping his head up on his wrist. He watches Eddie like he actually cares about whatever it is he’s saying, which does absolutely no weird shit to Eddie’s heart, thank you very much.

Eddie shrugs it off and takes another drag of his cigarette, avoiding Steve’s intentful gaze. “We wear stupid hats. Buy each other stupid gifts. Watch stupid movies. A big celebration of stupidity.”

“God, I love your uncle Wayne,” Steve laughs. Eddie won’t ever admit how giddy the sound of it makes him feel. The musician in him cries at him to record Steve’s laughter, to preserve it, to make it into a melody he can listen to on repeat for the rest of his life. But that’s pathetic, and a whole new ballpark of weird, so he shoves it away.

He does try to make Steve laugh as often as he can, though.

Steve lies back, putting out his cigarette on the van’s roof. “That sounds like fun.”

“Hey, you can join us this year, if you’re not doing anything on the 24th?” Eddie offers as casually as he can.

“I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“Dude,” Eddie cuts him off. “You are officially invited. Need me to do it in Shakespearean or..?”

“Please don’t,” Steve laughs, sounding almost relieved.

“Art thee sure? f’r we both knoweth I can–”

“Shut up!” Steve laughs again, and Eddie has to cover his giant grin with the crook of his arm. “So, like, should I bring anything?”

“Nope, no need. Unless you’ve got a really ugly hat. If not, I’ll give you one of mine.”

“I have something, yeah.”

“Good. Dinner starts at eight,” Eddie says, than thinks again. “Probably. Hopefully. Could be at ten for all I know.”

“Got it,” Steve smiles and sits up with a grunt. “I gotta go, I promised Robin I’ll help her pack for her flight tomorrow morning.”

“What does she need you for?”

“Adult supervision,” Steve replies simply.

Eddie chuckles at that. “Oh, that makes sense. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself zipping up her suitcase.”

“Hey, that could be lethal!” Steve protests.

“Yeah, if you’re a fucking hamster. Wait, actually, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Oh my god, Eddie, shut up,” Steve tries to hide his amusement with a hand down his face, but his brilliant smile shines through.

Eddie kinda wants to kiss him. He looks away.

Steve doesn’t go. Instead he sits silently with his back straight and his eyes on the stars, and Eddie closes his own to keep himself from staring. He wonders what goes through his friend’s mind. He wonders that a lot lately. He wants to pry Steve open, find out what makes him tick, know every part of him like the back of his own hands. To make a melody not just of his laughter but of the entirety of him. He wants to have him.

He has to consciously remind himself to stop thinking about his best friend like that.

Steve speaks up again and it makes not thinking just a little bit easier. “I really gotta go. Bye, Ed. See you at Munson Christmas.” Steve says while getting up, and as he turns to climb down the van he stops. “I’ll make sure my hat is way uglier than yours.”

And then the asshole fucking winks.

Eddie’s heart somersaults in his chest and he can feel his cheeks and ears growing red hot. No one’s there to look at him anymore yet he still hides his face behind his mane of curls, trying to shudder his stupidly pathetic and pathetically stupid crush away. He groans loudly when it makes absolutely no difference.

He thinks he hears Steve laughing from beneath him. He chooses to believe he hasn’t heard anything at all.

read the rest on AO3 ♥

[oiveyzmir]

Ngl one of the best fics ive read in a while im losing my mind over this 😭

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚞𝚗 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜

Bookstore AU / Rated E / 9K

Steve's just in London to help his grandpa out with his bookstore. He's just there to catch his breath for a while, get over his silly little burnout and then he'll be right back to work where he belongs. He doesn't exactly plan for one Eddie Munson to walk into his life and steal his breath away in an entirely different way. He doesn't expect a reason to stay.

A winter exchange (@steddieexchange) gift for @oiveyzmir 🤲🏻 ❄️ I hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻💖

READ IT ON AO3 🖋️

[oiveyzmir]

honestly I love the later seasons of psych mainly because they took Shawn’s craziness in the early seasons and gave it to lassie. Wdym he used to read his sister Miranda rights as a bedtime story. Wdym he’s been micro-dosing chloroform to build tolerance for over 15 years. Someone take away his gun that man is not mentally stable

[oiveyzmir]

“This horse rides for only one man.”

Victra definitely gave Virginia this pajama set for her birthday.

25 hours on procreate

[oiveyzmir]

Rockstar Eddie for my mini magazine feature based on jq gq ♥️🎸🤘

twitter | insta | bluesky | tiktok | shop

[oiveyzmir]

PART FOUR: wherein regular-guy!Eddie is ✨finally✨ reunited with his soulmate famous!Steve

He doesn’t remember reaching, but everything’s a little bit hazy. ⭐ 💛

<<< back to the charity soirée // back to the beginning

But then Eddie’s catching sparkling eyes, and his pounding heart-in-his-throat jolts like an electrical storm’s striking in all its chambers at once but at different angles, so he’s dizzy, he’s faint, he’s not just tasting his heart, he’s holding it whole in his goddamn mouth, ready to cough it out into his hands on the coattails of ozone from the lighting seizing it up, the lifeblood pooling in it fit to fucking burst, he’s—

"We've met."

Those eyes are everything he remembers. That voice is the only thing he dreams of every night, but now, it’s like it’s his dreams and recollections were the knockoff version—though what that makes the advertisements, then, Eddie can’t even begin to guess—but the genuine article, living and breathing in front of Eddie now puts all the memories he’s been clinging to to fucking shame, because…

Eddie’s maybe died. Probably that makes the most sense. Definitely he is now dead. He slipped looking for Chrissy, hit his head. He had an unexpected allergic reaction to one of the actually-really-simple hors d'oeuvres. Tasting his heart in his throat in the first place was more serious than originally supposed.

And now, at the end of everything: he gets Steve. The real deal.

Which is so much better as an afterlife than he ever expected.

“Remember when I did that charity thing in Indianapolis?” Steve is turning away and Eddie doesn’t like that, this is his afterlife and he wants the totality of Steve’s attention and affection and adoration and—

“Like I forgot a whole three months ago—” and wait.

Wait, because that’s Buckley, and she shouldn’t be in Eddie’s afterlife. It makes sense that Steve would turn to talk to someone, but why would he be talking to anyone in Eddie’s afterlife, and Eddie’s hand goes automatically to his own hip and pinches hard enough to split skin, he’s sure, and it fucking hurts and he can still taste his heart in his throat because it’s still pounding and why is it pounding in Eddie’s afterlife—

“It was you?” Eddie rasps, and Steve turns on a dime, his attention zeroing immediately in on Eddie but…Eddie hadn’t quite weighed the glaze of distance in those eyes compared to what they’d been that night, that morning; he hadn’t clocked it wholly: they were always bright but something was missing, now, and Eddie notices it best when it’s gone and all the shine is there again, but it’s shifting to a sharp kind of intensity as that gaze takes in Eddie’s whole person and seems to find…cause for concern, if the slightest downturn in those lips, the little furrow between those brows is anything to go by.

“It,” Eddie swallows hard when Steve makes a half-aborted step in his direction, moves the littlest bit closer and that’s the right cologne, that’s the right glistening pool of subtle shade-shifts in those irises—and fuck.

Hooooly fuck.

There’s just the slightest curls of chest hair peaking above where his shirt’s unbuttoned only the littlest bit. Tantalizing. Perfect.

Goddamn…perfect.

“It is you?” Eddie whispers, the moment, the impossible gift it’s promising feeling too precious, too…delicate, to push, lest it disappear. Lest Eddie drop it and lose…more. Again.

He doesn’t remember reaching, but everything’s a little bit hazy, he thinks he can hear the spark that makes his heartbeats, he knows he can hear the blood surging in his veins, he feels stupidly alive inside the hope he’s breathing in and then—

Then there’s a hand that meets his own. And Eddie knows it’s shape. Everything in him recognizes the weight, the texture, the warmth.

His pulse stumbles at the contact, like something slipping into place where it’s been barely connected, a cable for his very being having been hanging half-outside the power socket all this time and now: there. Like the circuit’s complete.

Eddie stretches his fingers on instinct, needy, and when Steve responds by slotting their fingers and locking his around Eddie’s hand, steady and sure, Eddie’s whole fucking body lights up, all sizzling, magnetic wonder.

“Steve,” he marvels at this man, because it is this man, and Eddie’s chest feels buoyant and his heart’s a balloon full of helium knocking wild against the ceiling of his ribcage but all it knows how to do is rise, rise, rise.

“Steve,” Eddie exhales again, reaching his other hand—like fuck he’s letting go with the one already wrapped safe in Steve’s grasp—to graze Steve’s cheek ever-so-slightly, needing one more proof of reality against all the wishful daydreams he’s been tormenting himself with.

“I thought I was losing my mind seeing you everywhere,” Eddie knows he’s gaping, like a man in a desert with a mirage, and he cares not-one-fucking-bit; “but I was actually seeing you, it wasn’t just me being lovesick and pathetic,” he’s a little breathy, kinda gasping and he can’t see entirely straight but, but…

What if—

“Lovesick, you say?”

Eddie feels the way he blushes so fucking hard. He can’t even try to hide it.

He’s not solid enough in his own skin just now to even try.

“Umm,” he clears his throat, then makes himself make full-on eye contact.

“Yes,” he admits a little bashful, but Steve’s eyes just dance and fuck, Eddie will humiliate himself in any way necessary in order to earn that look. No hesitation, all in.

“Underscore pathetic, please. Make sure that’s front and center.”

He does need to make sure that part is really clear.

“What if I find it endearing, though?” Steve says like he really means it, not like he’s just trying to cushion Eddie’s ego from the burn of his honesty; “and not at all pathetic?”

Before he can process it fully, let alone think of a response, Eddie feels a hand on his arm that not Steve’s, and glances dumbly around to see Robin bustling them pointedly but unobtrusively, with no eyes on them but Steve’s on Eddie and Eddie’s fixed on Steve, shit she’s good, and Eddie recognizes where they end up, just a side meeting room, a little table with chairs, nothing special.

Except Steve is in this room. And Eddie cannot think of a more special thing. At all. Anywhere.

Ever.

“You really didn’t know?”

Eddie blinks, because he’d kind of been mooning and he needs to snap back to the now, so he makes his eyes focus on Steve’s face, Steve’s words, rather than getting lost in the all-encompassing spell of him.

Which is hard, for the record. But Eddie perseveres.

It takes him a couple seconds to reorient—just the two of them, Robin is fucking skilled—and then to put together what Steve must mean.

Like: almost definitely the fact that he was always the guy on the billboards.

So Eddie just shakes his head, and tries not to get sidetracked by how extra fucking insane and unheard of this all is, with the superstar element tacked on.

“You were the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen,” Eddie’s barely breathes the words, airy and light and not wholly there but honestly he’s pretty impressed he manages that much; “and you bought me a drink.” He laughs, shaking his head:

“Did I think you were movie-star gorgeous and then some? Duh,” because seriously: duh. “But I didn’t know, god, didn’t even notice until after you left, and before that? I wasn’t gonna blab that shit, open my mouth and make you think twice, scare you right off.”

Steve’s studying him, like he’s a puzzle when Eddie’s never felt more like an open book in his life, raw and unvarnished and heartsick over it all, and wanting so bad, tender with the suggestion the universe is offering just now that maybe he’s allowed. Maybe he can even…maybe he has a chance to have.

“Kinda remember your mouth doing anything but,” Steve shoots back wryly, leaning back on the table before dimming a little:

“You never texted me.”

And Eddie isn’t proud of the little whine he gives for the pout, the resignation in Steve’s posture; he’s not proud, but fuck if he’s ashamed.

“I started to by like mid-afternoon the same day, absolutely zero chill,” Eddie tries to steep every syllable in earnestness, in the heartfelt truth of it all; “my phone didn’t save your number.”

Steve doesn’t seem to be expecting that one.

“Seriously?” he blinks, edges softening a little as he chuckles humorlessly. “I thought you’d figured all this out,” he gestures beyond the closed door; “and that was why.”

Eddie would like very much to be able to grab that thought out of Steve’s head and crush it under the heel of his Docs. Like, not shattered, just pulverized into a stain on the ground. Unrecognizable and insignificant and easily forgotten as all absurd notions should be.

“Sweetheart, I’ve created my own dry spell out of sheer misery, over having missed that chance,” Eddie states it plain, lays it out on main between them.

And Steve? Steve just stares some more, a deeper version of the calculating look he’s had on and off since they locked eyes again, against all fucking odds.

Like maybe Eddie’s been right the whole time. That they’re something other, like something fated. That this really looks like it is the great love of his life, and everything in him knew it.

Which: fuck. Of course Eddie was right. He didn’t actually doubt it—couldn’t, not when he felt like something had died, too big to even mourn.

Until right fucking now. When it feels like he’s breathing with both lungs for the first time in months.

Then Steve’s eyeing him up and down, worrying his lip before he says, almost quips save for the way his hand seems to nervously brush back through that gorgeous fucking hair:

“Would you like another?”

Eddie takes a second to trace back to what he last said: chances. Missed ones.

Would he like—

“What?”

It cannot be that simple.

(Please be that simple.)

“Wanna know a secret?”

Eddie’s still tongue tied, brain firing randomly and out of any particular pattern to follow, just giddy disbelief and the urge to start fucking bawling for emotional overload and the implications that he might just be entitled here to feel sheer relief: the way Steve tips himself toward Eddie a little from the waist, just enough to notice him closer, does absolutely nothing to make Eddie more inclined to coherence.

He just nods frenetically, like a goddamn bobble head.

“Been in kinda a funk of my own, thinking about you, moping pathetically,” he emphasizes with feeling, and a raised brow to boot; “about how you never called, according to my best friend,” he cocks his head behind himself again, no doubt indicating Robin and, and…

Is it too good to be true?

Fuck if it is; Eddie’s not letting this go again.

“Let me make it up to you?” he blurts out, and watches Steve’s eyes widen and…wait.

“Wait, wait, fuck,” Eddie says all breathless, because he’s taking liberties, isn’t he; he wants this, whatever it is and all it can be but Steve’s, Steve is—

Eddie just propositioned a movie star. His very-likely star crossed lover, but, Eddie can’t just assume that they’re both on the same—

“Name the date.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. Steve doesn’t hesitate.

If this isn’t real, if Eddie’s reading it all wrong…

Eddie isn’t brave, like, that’s a categorical fact. But there’s a primal sense of purpose, not to mention self-preservation, in leaping at this and grabbing with both hands, with his whole heart.

“Tomorrow?” he asks, hopeful as hell, but that’s when he sees it: Steve’s eyes hadn’t widened in surprise. His pupils had dilated.

His eyes are more black than anything, now, when he says with absolute definitive certainty:

“Done.”

Eddie can’t help but stare, can’t tame the childlike dizzy joy bubbling over in him as he asks, wondering:

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Steve smiles small, emanating like a banked fire on a cold night; “you’re something special, Eddie,” and he tilts his head, looks up through his lashes and holy fuck, but if Eddie is lucky enough to be the target of that look for any time at all beyond this encounter, here and now?

It would be the most incredible way to fall apart on the goddamn daily.

“We spent one night together,” Eddie feels himself mouth, just, baffled in the brightest way that this can possibly be happening for real, that for all the certainty he’s felt in the face of every logical voice of sense, he’s known and now the other half of his equation is standing here, like maybe he knows too.

“And a lovely morning,” Steve leans into his space before his gaze changes, not in a bad way, exactly, but whatever the right word for how it changes is?

Eddie doesn’t like it.

“You feel differently?”

And that would be why he didn’t like it.

“Fuck no,” Eddie hisses, aghast at the notion. “Just,” and he licks his lips, tries to straighten out his thoughts; “you are,” and, hey: looks like he sucks at straightening out his thoughts, wow, okay—so he just grabs a clump of hair to hide behind a little, but more like a tether than a shield, and he resigns himself to just…spilling his words all clumsy as shit, willy-fucking-nilly.

“Even if I agreed with you about being special, if I was, then I don’t have a word for how out of my fucking league you are.”

He drops his hair when there’s no reply for a few beats, and he makes himself look up at Steve properly.

Steve, who is watching him with curiosity, and warmth, and with no small amount of genuine fucking affection, the kind that threatens to make Eddie’s heart try to escape out through his mouth again, only this time he’d really be aiming for it to land in Steve’s hands.

Or Steve’s chest, if he was bold enough to hope at being that lucky, after all of this already.

“Did you play sports?” Steve asks, weirdly casual, the kind of tone you’d expect from someone looking wholly bored as they stared to the side into the distance, which is the opposite of what Steve’s doing, tipping his chin the way Eddie remembers from the bar. Considering, but somehow inviting for it. Wholly contradictory.

Fascinating.

“Like in school?” Eddie asks, only a little bewildered, and whole-ass snorts when Steve nods.

“Do I look like the jock type?”

“Then how about you leave the league thinking to me,” he lifts his palm to Eddie’s waist and pulls him a little closer, and Eddie is suddenly very aware of just how much he missed being in a close enough orbit to this man to be able to feel when he breathes; “and take me out tomorrow,” and Steve, because he’s otherworldly and spectacular and shit, reaches up to tuck Eddie’s hair behind his ear and hell if Eddie doesn’t shiver from the base of his neck straight down for the featherlight, fragile little gesture’s quiet intimacy, good god.

But then he’s pulling back, and Eddie feels his eyes widen and his jaw drop because no, no, that’s not right, that—

“And you let me put my number in your phone right now,” Steve gestures very close to the clear shape of said phone in Eddie’s back pocket, like he wants to grab it himself but isn’t sure where they stand yet, or maybe because they are still ‘in public’ no matter how much Robin must be making sure they’re not bothered in this side room, but then Steve grins, and it’s so soft and it’s molten in his eyes and Eddie thinks he gets it.

Steve’s hands have been more than his on Eddie ass before, but.

This is gonna retrace some of the steps they had to skip, for circumstance’s sake. Eddie doesn’t hate that.

Watching Steve’s eyes darken as his lips quirk a little higher, yeah. Yeah: Eddie doesn’t hate that at all.

He hands Steve his phone wordlessly, maybe a little desperately as Steve flicks his thumb and starts to type, grinning as he does while he speaks a little sly:

“So we can both maybe do something about the cases of blue balls it sounds like we’ve been fighting?”

Eddie chokes on something dangerously close to a giggle. “Does it count as blue balls if I’ve been jacking off more in the last twelve weeks than I have since high school?”

And god, Eddie lights up like fucking chandelier when Steve cackles, and shoves Eddie’s bicep, as easy as that morning in the kitchen had been.

Just like that.

“I think it counts if we were only able to jack off,” Steve raises a brow with a smirk as he passes Eddie’s phone back to him, and Eddie only glances away to look down at the screen when it vibrates right after Steve hands it back, just to see the contact S.H.😘, with a simple message below:

fuck ‘missed chances’

“You can take that both ways, just so you know,” Steve says softly, not pushing, but definitely sure. Presumptuous because he can read it seeping out of Eddie’s pores, not because he expects it as a matter of course.

Which is really fucking hot, basically. Like.

Really fucking hot.

“How do you feel about Italian?” Eddie asks before he can’t think any further, can stumble when his heart’s doing all the stumbling necessary for the moment, and in truth: Eddie isn’t at all unsure.

Like: not even a little.

Plus, with the way Steve smiles?

Worth all the fluttering happening in his chest, fucking twenty-fold.

💛💛💛

<<< back to the charity soirée // part three ✨or✨ back to the bar // part one

for @pearynice 🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts @bumblebeecuttlefishes @shrimply-a-menace @wheneverfeasible @1-tehe-1 @themoonagainstmers @dreamercec @ravenfrog @live-laugh-love-dietrich @stealthysteveharrington @tinyplanet95 @theohohmoment @samsoble

divider credit here

[oiveyzmir]

“and if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door.

baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore”

[oiveyzmir]

AMERICAN SCANDAL

Five years after American Vandal was cancelled, Peter Maldonado and Sam Ecklund return to Netflix with a new investigative docuseries. Their subject? The mysterious circumstances surrounding the San Fernando Valley's All-Valley Under 18 Karate Tournament, and the teen karate gang wars it appears to have spawned. Written in screenplay format with embedded images, this fic spans the five episode limited series.

@pussyhoundspock and I co-wrote an American Vandal x Cobra Kai crossover! If you like either series or both or just want to support your local mutuals check out the first chapter now!

[oiveyzmir]

Hooooly shit

[oiveyzmir]

🌸✨💓THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG! 🧚🏾‍♀️ PASS IT ON AND HAVE A LOVELY DAY! ~♡ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Djsiwkmsozmwkskskwns screaming crying kicking my feet you’re the sweetest 🥹🥹🥹😭💗

[oiveyzmir]

Ghost Lights | Mature |  60k

Author: @oiveyzmir (talar | ao3)

Artist: @hellfireloserclub

Beta Reader: @sunflowerharrington (withmyindifference | ao3)

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, El hopper, Dustin Henderson, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Original Experiment Character(s), Original Characters

Tags: Canon Compliant, post-s4, Amnesia, Everybody Lives, Established Relationship, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents

Trigger Warnings: grief, substance abuse, death, conversations about suicide, homophobic language, body horror, abuse.

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

Eddie Munson used to have everything, once upon a time. He made music, had a place to call home in the city, and most importantly, he had the honor of loving and being loved by Steve Harrington. The love of his life.

But on the morning of April 26th, 1990, Steve went missing. His body was found rotting at the bottom of Lover’s Lake a few weeks later.

Something about it doesn’t add up.

After a decade of grieving for a man he truly didn’t believe was gone, a decade in which Eddie had lost all the things that once made his life beautiful, he comes across a picture of a very much alive Steve in a British newspaper. Alive and kicking, it seems. The revelation raises more questions than answers- where was he? Why did he leave? And, the million dollar question, is he still Steve Harrington at all?

or:

Steve is presumed dead for a decade, and when he’s found alive and well in London, all hell breaks loose.

[oiveyzmir]

Act 1 of project #004 for the @steddiebang2024 is FINALLY up!

A huge thank you to @hellfireloserclub for the wonderful art, you're the best ♡

Read it on Ao3 here!

Summary:

Eddie Munson used to have everything, once upon a time. He made music, had a place to call home in the city, and most importantly, he had the honor of loving and being loved by Steve Harrington. The love of his life.

But on the morning of April 26th, 1990, Steve went missing. His body was found rotting at the bottom of Lover’s Lake a few weeks later.

Something about it doesn’t add up.

After a decade of grieving for a man he truly didn’t believe was gone, a decade in which Eddie had lost all the things that once made his life beautiful, he comes across a picture of a very much alive Steve in a British newspaper. Alive and kicking, it seems. The revelation raises more questions than answers- where was he? Why did he leave? And, the million dollar question, is he still Steve Harrington at all?

or:

Steve is presumed dead for a decade, and when he’s found alive and well in London, all hell breaks loose.