#Eddie: I know baby

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, reading a question in the chat of his live-stream: Which member of the party was the mom friend? Oh, easy. It was Steve.

Steve: …uh, no. Wrong. I was not friends with any of you dorks.

Eddie: Then why were you always around?

Steve: I was a hostage.

Steve: If anyone was the mom friend, it was Nancy.

Eddie: No, Nancy is the friend you take with you if you’re trying to uncover a government conspiracy

Steve: Yeah, just like a mom. If the mom you’re talking about is Joyce Byers.

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[unclewaynemunson]

"What. The. Fuck."

Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.

Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.

"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."

"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"

"Eddie, sit down."

"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"

"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."

"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.

"Then whose is she?"

"I told ya to sit down, Ed."

And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.

"Your dad was here earlier."

Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.

"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."

It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.

Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.

"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.

"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."

"Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."

Eddie swallows thickly.

"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."

Eddie nods.

"You wanna hold her?"

He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.

"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."

It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.

Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.

“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.

She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.

He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.

“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.

Wayne turns his head back to him.

“Bout what?”

“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”

Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.

[stevebabey]

totally didn’t expect the other part to do well at all but 😳 apparently i don’t know steddie fans. as such, have a part two <3 part one is here again, look out for the borrowed hunger games lines

“You’ve ruined your life, you know that, right?”

The kitchen had been basking in the lull of the quiet morning before Eddie had spoken up, breaking the silence. Steve blinks, realising he’s been zoned out staring at the swirling bubbles atop his mug of coffee and look up at Eddie across the table.

“Doing what you did.” Eddie continues. There’s this slight in his voice. Steve figures it’s not really aimed at him.

Chief Powell had agreed to not release the details of the case to the public for obvious reason. However, it went without saying that of the cops working the case, not all would be so free-thinking. There were plenty who deemed leaking the alibi and letting the town devour Steve’s reputation a more than fair consequence.

And, well, Eddie didn’t have any reputation left to tarnish or save.

Steve takes a sip of his coffee and lets the warm flavour coat his tastebuds as he tries to puts his thoughts in the right order.

He knows how Eddie sees this— sees it as this burden that he’s imposed on Steve’s life. That he had been able to accept it at first, the whispers of freedom tempting enough that he could be selfish enough to gasp them.

Then yesterday afternoon, Steve had come back from Bradley’s Big Buy with dried yolks splattered across the windscreen and regret howled through Eddie like a hurricane, fierce and wild. Realisation of what Steve had condemned himself to— no- what Eddie had condemned him to finally sunk in.

Steve can tell he’s been stewing on it all night. In the couple weeks he’s been here, staying in under the Harrington roof just down the hall from Steve, he’s surprised by how easily his brain has tacked on to Eddie’s habits. His little Eddie-ism’s. That’s what Steve calls them.

Like how Eddie’s nose will twitch if there’s something on his plate he doesn’t like, but he’s too polite to say it.

How he thumbs up and down the edge of a book when he’s reading, completely entranced. Doesn’t even notice his moving, twittering fingers.

How he’s always so much twitchier the morning after a sleep laced with terror after terror. It gives him away before Steve even see the bags under his eyes, the hollowness of his face.

Steve recognises that one from himself, from back when he’d gone through it all for the first time. The flinch is unshakeable when you’re convinced it’s all going to come back— that the world is going to tear itself up and spit out monsters you haven’t even dreamed of.

Today, Eddie isn’t twitchy like that. He’s tired, a sunken in face that comes from a bone-deep aching tiredness. He picks at his breakfast, bitterly avoiding the eggs on his plate.

And Steve can’t pretend to understand how Eddie grew up — can take his guesses but ultimately won’t get near the experiences he knows Eddie has lived through. Steve has only ever been on the other side. Stayed silent while someone else through snide comments and used the word fag like a jagged blade, to cut someone down.

So, he doesn’t know. Not even a year with Robin as his best friend and all her knowledge could’ve prepared Steve for the startling fear he’d felt when coming out of the store to the sight of a group of boys around his car, cartons of eggs in hand. One with a crowbar.

They would’ve smashed his windows if he had come out a minute later, he’s sure of it.

It had been like getting doused in icy water — the Letterman jackets on all of them, the sneers, still jeering taunts as they’d scattered across the parking lot. Steve had felt the bile rise in his throat as he got in the car and sat, staring at the steering wheel, his slimy fear melting and mixing with his anger.

Eddie’s point of view suddenly resounded within Steve in a way he hadn’t known before. Standing on tables, hollering about conformity, leaning in to every foul rumour about him— like a person drawing to full height, making himself as big as possible, to scare off a bear.

Steve gets that a little more now.

So, when Eddie tells him you’ve ruined your life he knows what he’s trying to tell him. Except, Steve doesn’t know how to say lightly that he’d gladly ruin his life to save Eddie’s. It’s too much — but Steve always is. Always loves in these big heavy ways that are too hard to handle.

So instead, he shrugs and says, “Consider it a trade.”

Eddie cocks his head, like a dog, just an inch.

“For following me into the lake and saving my life.”

Eddie scoffs and his head lolls back dramatically like what Steve’s said is ridiculous. “Jesus H Christ, dude, you saved yourself. I told you that I would’ve been too cowardly to come after you if Birdie and Wheeler hadn’t gone in first.”

He mutters the word cowardly with a hiss.

“Well then, a trade for drawing the bats away.”

“You mean the time I nearly became hamburger helper for the bats?”

“Christ, Eddie,” Steve scoffs. “I didn’t take you as someone who fished for compliments so hard.”

Eddie frowns, dropping his fork with a clatter on his plate. “I— what? I’m not- I don’t even—”

Steve cuts in. “You helped us and you saved my life, whether your horrible little brain can admit that or not. So,” He sits back in his chair with another little shrug and sips his coffee. “Equal trade.”

Eddie frowns, a crease forming between his brows. “No, not equal, Steve. You don’t get what you’ve done you— ugh, you just don’t—”

He huffs, cutting himself off, clearly unsure of how to voice his frustrations. He slumps back in his chair and eyes the eggs on his plate again with a glare this time.

Steve waits a moment and hopes he isn’t overstepping when he says, voice quiet, “I know, Eddie.”

Across the table, Eddie’s eyes raise to meet Steve’s and he doesn’t sound smug, he doesn’t sound angry, he just sounds defeated when he speaks.

“Do you?”

“Maybe not quite the extent of it until yesterday but, yes… I know.”

His words sink it and Eddie looks… affronted. His eyes get a little wide and a tremble finds his lips. Like the whole time he’d been convinced Steve wasn’t sure what he’d been getting into, that the reality hadn’t set in— that any moment he would rescind his alibi and throw Eddie to the cops and let them snap the cuffs back on him.

Steve hates that expression. Loathes that Eddie is so surprised that anyone would do this for him — something as important as keeping him alive and out of prison. Steve hates it because he knows it means that somewhere along the way, somebody had convinced Eddie that nobody would.

So, if he’s got to be the one to convince Eddie that someone will— that he will make the effort, will put his neck on the line because… well, isn’t that what Steve does best?

He’ll do it gladly.

Eddie picks up his fork and stabs his fork into the egg, the buttery yolk spilling onto the plate. Steve takes it as a truce, as him meeting him in the middle.

"So,” Steve swirls the mug in his hand and swills another sip back. Swallows it and takes a page out of Eddie’s book and goes the joke, leaning forward, forearms on the table. “If I’m gonna be your boyfriend for the foreseeable future I should probably know more stuff about you. Y’know, like, uh, the deep stuff.”

Eddie’s sunk back down in his seats but at Steve’s final sentence, he perks up. A smirking sort of grin crossing his face and Eddie twists a piece of his hair in front of his mouth. He hasn’t kept eating yet, too focused on the conversation.

"Uh-oh, the deep stuff.” He’s got that teasing tone in his voice. “Like what?"

"Like...” Steve scrambles to pull something from his brain. “Um, what’s your favourite colour?"

“Oh well, now you've stepped over the line."

Eddie’s sarcasm melts into a chuckle as Steve laughs, ducking his head instinctively. When he lifts his gaze, he’s relieved that Eddie looks a little lighter. Not much but a smidge of difference — Steve can see it if he squints. He’s sure it won’t be the last conversation they’ll have about this but for now, it’s settled.

Curiosity piques in Steve and he tries to sound casual when he says, “No, really, what is it?”

Eddie blinks and curls his hair around his finger once more, tugging it lightly. He seems to be considering his answer, eyes dropping to the sweater Steve’s donning.

“Yellow.” He finally says. “Not mustard but, y’know, lighter. Colour of the moon on Halloween or…”

“Cheese?” Steve suggests.

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, the right kind of cheese, sure. What about you? Favourite colour?”

Steve considers it — for the longest time, it had been red because Tommy had told him that red or blue were the coolest colours to like, way back in third grade. No one has asked him since then.

“Pink, actually.” Steve admits, hand coming up to brush across his nose, trying to hide behind the motion. He envies Eddie’s long curls suddenly. He feels the need to explain, more words rolling off his tongue. “Like, y’know, when the sun starts to set, like all dusky, it’s just… nice.”

Eddie’s staring at him peculiarly, his lips parted yet quirked up in this faint smile. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d call it awe. Breaking his stare, Eddie chuckles again, finally properly picking his fork up to finish his meal.

“Steve Harrington.” He murmurs warmly, more to himself. His lips twitch with a smile. “You just keep surprising me.”

—

some people wanted more 🤲 uh get tagged idiot - normally i don’t do taglists but u were all so kind as to reply to the post & i didn’t get a chance to say thank u for ur lovely words! this is my thank u! have sum more!

@friendlyorange @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @lostinadmiration @life-love-musicaltheatre @oldlovershippiemusic5 @phoeniceae @catateme9 @lolawonsstuff @justagaypanda @pluto-pepsi @whoopstie @scenesofobx @justforthedead89 @musical-theatre-gay @theperksofbeingstjimmy @ikilledabuginthewall @imauselessartist @fridgebaby @lingeringmirth and uhhh @corrodedcoughin cos i still do a little squeal when u rb my tings even tho we’re mewchies :D

[sainteddie]

i just think that….

“i don’t think you’re a fraud. i just think that maybe you’re not sure of your own feelings yet… and if there’s something you need to tell eddie… you will. in your own time.”

…..was a super neat thing for her to say.

[ghost-proofbaby]

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!” 

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly. 

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.” 

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.” 

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed. 

But it hadn’t. 

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over. 

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon. 

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours. 

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving. 

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.” 

“And why would you ever do that?” 

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee. 

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.” 

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you. 

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well. 

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil. 

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?” 

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you. 

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose. 

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees. 

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more. 

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner. 

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?” 

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it. 

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.” 

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this. 

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least. 

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed. 

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?” 

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically. 

He wants you to kiss him. 

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too. 

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose. 

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him. 

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.” 

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him. 

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out. 

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?” 

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss. 

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life. 

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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[harrywavycurly]

I just know Eddie would be the type of husband to randomly text you and ask “do I like spinach in things? I’m at lunch with Wayne and they have a pasta with spinach in it and I’m not sure if I’d like it?” Because to him you know everything so why wouldn’t you know if he likes spinach or not?

[team-118]

that's the thing. he's the one you forget to count on. he's perfect but it's a front. he's happy but it's a lie. he cut the damn line and he's still alive down here. he's 9, he's 19, 21, 27, with the weight of the world on his seemingly bulletproof shoulders. he's braver than anyone should have to be. he takes responsibility to a fault. he's cursed but the universe doesn't scream. he's a wonderful partner as long as he doesn't look it in the eye. he's falling backwards into a pool of his own blood and he's dancing in his underwear in his living room. he's gonna be better. for christopher? no, for himself. he's golden and glowing at sunset on the court, he's singing karaoke and djing with drag queens, he's falling to fucking pieces and then he's putting himself back together. who the hell is that? eddie diaz, new recruit. we don't bet against him.

[thegayestdiaz]

who knows how long eddie would’ve kept that affair going but all it took was buck going “you have to tell her” and there eddie goes “damn now i have to tell her.”

walk him like a dog buck

[fiona-fififi]

Suddenly thinking about Buck, after he and Eddie finally get together, accompanying Eddie to his pick-up games every now and then just so he can sit on the sidelines to cheer Eddie on.

[angelbaby-fics]

Ooohh! Late night (maybe secret) milk and cookies fresh from the oven! 🍪🥛🍼

ooooh i love the idea of this.... and not just because i made milk & cookies tonight!!

maybe its past your bedtime but daddy hasn't turned off the tv yet, he can sense that you're just not tired yet, and not in a good way either. most nights when you stay up late its because you're far too energized to sleep, running and skipping and dancing around the house insisting you don't need to rest, until next thing you know you're half asleep being carried into daddy's bed... but tonight you're just angsty. you already had your nighttime bottle, you've been cuddling with your stuffy while a calm cartoon plays, but your brain is elsewhere, half small and half spaced out.

then you hear the oven beep on.

"come here angel, i got a surprise"

daddy takes a packet of cookie dough from the back of the fridge, high up on the top shelf where you can't even reach. he puts two squares on a metal sheet, one for him and one for you.

"don't tell... but these are dada's magic cookies. sometimes when you're already asleep, daddy makes a special cookie before bed as a little treat... maybe they'll work for you too!"

cookies are one thing, but a magic cookie? and right before bed?? you couldn't believe how quickly your night was turning around. your sour mood dissipates as the kitchen fills with the smell of sugar. daddy pours another bottle for you to wash down your cookie, and your tummy feels just as warm as your heart as daddy rocks you to sleep.

[morganbritton132]

we haven’t heard much about the shared calendar in a while, any new events (other than scheduled sex) added recently?

(Sorry, I saw this ask when you sent it and have wanted to respond to it but for some reason, it is so much harder to sit down and write a response to an ask than it is to just word vomit a post for the AU.)

A few things have happened with the shared calendar.

1. Steve forgot to put that he had plans with his teacher friend group on the calendar and The Party planned something for the same time. It was no big deal but everybody gave him shit about it because that’s what he does when someone forgets to update the calendar.

2. Dustin figured out how to insert a picture into a scheduled event so now he’ll block out time on Saturday and it’s just a google image of a frog. This pisses Steve off to no end. It is hilarious.

3. Steve had to use his personal computer for something he was doing in class so his entire third period saw an event notification that just said ‘PLEASE GOD, SOMEONE LOOK AT YHE GROUP CHAT - E’

4. El lives in a van and travels a lot. She sells the things she makes at craft fairs all over the country but for the most part, she doesn’t have plans so she doesn’t use the calendar much (she posts pictures in the GC to let people know what she’s up to). But every now and again, she put something on the calendar.

A week from now, she’s scheduled ‘DEATH.’

They later found out, she just need to be in Death Valley for a festival and informed her that she absolutely cannot shorten that.

5. Erica doesn’t participate in the group calendar the same way the others do because she thinks that’s a security risk, but she will schedule when she has free time. This is solely to appease Steve.

6. Lucas was putting in that him and Max were going to a baby shower for one of the ER nurses two weeks from now but a code came into the emergency room so he just hit submit with the event description ‘Lumax Baby.’ There were several missed calls when he checked his phone an hour later.

7. Their FBI agent has access to their shared calendar and sometimes when one of them is particularly annoying, they will delete something off the calendar. They are aware that this is petty.

[eddiewhump]

buck and eddie being extra clingy in the morning when they first get together— completely tangled together, not wanting to let the other leave, as if they arent about to get in the same car and head to the same place for both their shifts.

[florallylly]

i've seen model steve harrington aus. i've seen child steve harrington aus. i present: child model steve harrington

note: this came from my own desperate need to see this conceptualized and i SWEAR i've searched, i just can't find any content with child model steve so. :(

bc little steve harrington was remarkably cherub-like. his large brown eyes and soft pout ensured endless cooing and fussing from his mom's friends. and when he blushed and ducked his head in shyness, they only complimented him more. when he got home that day, his mom smiled at him.

so steve decided that he would put up with the cheek pinching and the squealing. he sat upright in his chair, sitting on his hands so he wouldn't fidget and ruin the image. because he'd do anything to keep his mom smiling at him. if he was being particularly good that day, she'd let him lay his head on her lap on the drive back home.

but everything changed at his father's birthday gala. a nearly eight year old steve harrington sat prim and proper in his seat, but a smile lit up his face--his cheeks round and his dimples showing up. he raised his hand up to cover his giggle, but he couldn't help but laugh at some silly old man with a loose toupee. then he sees his mom approaching, and his face quickly smooths over, going back to the more polite smile he usually adopted when it came to these events.

he'd ruined it. he hadn't continued being the sweet boy his mom wanted. but then, she smiles at him. and introduces him to the man behind her, who says he's a designer. the man holds out his hand, but when steve puts his hand into his palm, he doesn't shake it. the man simply holds his hand, his eyes scanning steve's face. steve tries not to squirm under the attention. but the man nods and smiles at his mom, and he gives two brief cheek kisses to steve, whispering in his ear "you're going to be a star, darling." steve looks at his mom, confused, but she waves him off to continue talking to the man.

a few months later, steve's mom whisks him off on a trip to france. and steve is so excited to go, nearly vibrating in his seat as the airplane prepares to take off. but instead of the eiffel tower and the seine, steve is taken to a studio. he's posed and changed. once again, he's being fussed over, but instead of wealthy socialites, gossiping make-up artists squeal over him. he's "perfect for the shoot" and "the most darling little boy." steve doesn't understand, but his mom is still smiling, so he lets the nice ladies brush powder over his face.

and he looks in the mirror. his hair is a little more tousled and his lips have a slight tint to them and his eyes seem to take up much of his face. he's put into new clothes, and he feels like a doll in their hands. and when he's put in front of the camera, he simply follows the photographer's directions. afterwards, he's bundled into the car and his mom can't stop gushing about how good he was.

apparently, he's a natural. and then she goes back to fussing over him, focusing more on appearance than his behavior now. but she takes him out shopping and they eat at an upscale restaurant along the champs-elysses. and steve is happy.

and then they go back home, and his mom is so much stricter than before. she has him try out all kinds of different hair products, determined to find the best combination to keep it looking shiny and soft. she controls his food intake and what he wears and makes him use weird creams and serums on his face. but this is what makes his mom happy, so he's happy to let her.

his mom is also on the phone a lot more lately, whispering harshly about the quality of brands and steve just assumes she's being picky about the clothes she buys. later, his mom picks him up and holds him, and asks if he'd like to move to italy. she looks at him intently and it's obvious what answer she wants, so steve nods. she smiles and holds him close, and it's the most loved steve has felt in a while.

so they move to italy, and suddenly steve is a lot more busy. he's put in front of more cameras for more people he doesn't know. but he's smiling and pouting and doing whatever they want him to do. his compliant attitude and polite nature have photographers and designers alike singing his praises, and steve always looks to his mom for approval. but she's been arguing with his dad a lot lately, so she's upset more often than not. but that's okay, the make-up artists are always kind to him.

but then one day, his mom takes a phone call in the middle of the shoot. and when it finishes, she's gone. steve goes back in, close to tears, but the make-up artists still hanging around look after him until a car is sent to pick him up. this becomes a trend. and eventually, steve goes alone to his shoots. he's always taken care of by the crew and someone is always there to pick him up, but it's not fun without his mom there.

but he knows that she's always enjoyed him taking pictures, so he continues to do so, hoping that she'll come watch him again sometime soon. and he busies himself with befriending the chatty make-up artists and the bossy photographers and the eccentric designers. and he's such a cute little thing that they can't help but dote on him.

steve is never catapulted into child stardom, as his mom is picky with his jobs, only choosing luxury brands and well known designers for him. but within the industry, they call him the "little prince."

and then steve is catapulted into puberty, but his intense skin regimen prevents him from getting acne, save for the occasional zit. and his diet and religious exercise schedule help maintain his look. and he's still doing remarkably well, especially now that he's fully aware that he is a Model.

and steve has truly grown into his looks. with time, he's grown more comfortable in front of the camera and made numerous friends. nearly all of them are older than him, but they're fun and loud and it fills up the space that normally surrounds him. and they're the ones who get him hooked on american movies. steve remembers living in america, but he's been in milan so long that everything he recalls is vague.

but he watches them and falls in love with the american high school experience. so when he finally catches his mom off the phone and actually in the house, steve asks if he can go to school in america. and his mom laughs. but steve keeps asking, which devolves into begging. and his mother snaps, slapping him across the face and calling him ungrateful. she cries and begs for forgiveness, cowed into shame by steve's desperate attempt to hold back tears.

and so she lets him go to school in hawkins, indiana. an odd choice, but his parents just so happened to own a property there. (in truth, both of his parents expected him to change his mind within the year). but steve finds his place at hawkins high, because even though nobody in hawkins has ever heard of versace, steve is pretty. he's pretty and charming and he knows the right thing to say. after all, he's spent his whole life perfecting his mask.

and even if his mom ended up moving back home with his dad, leaving steve all alone in that big empty house, steve is happy. he's finally hanging out with people his age and high school is so far removed from the glitz and glam of the fashion industry. and he's settled and content with tommy and carol by his side. while he misses his friends back in milan, steve finds himself longing for the clothes more often. hawkins was certainly the opposite of milan, what with the nearest mall being two hours away and only equipped with a macy's and jcpenny.

through it all, steve is determined to be normal. he laughs along with jokes he doesn't quite get and rolls his eyes at carol's cue, and he joins the swim team. and he joins the basketball team. and he goes to parties and kisses girls and wears dumb little polos with his letterman jacket and does everything that he saw in the movies.

but nancy wheeler is different. steve can't forget his time in italy and who he is and was, and he's reminded of his old life in everyone and everything in hawkins. but not nancy wheeler. she's all hawkins and all his. and then the upside down happens.

and then nancy wheeler breaks his heart.

even after three years, his parents continue to ask when he'll go back to modeling, but he's different now. the upside down and billy hargrove beat that starry eyed little kid who thrived in the spotlight. and nancy wheeler proved that adoration and love is fleeting, so what would even be the point of trying anymore? his dad was a little more approving of steve's retirement/hiatus, saying that steve must want to go to college so he can take over the family business.

but when steve doesn't get into college, he's once again badgered by his mom to go back. but he's grown and changed and he's not sure that he can pretend anymore, so he says no. and they cut him off. enter: scoops era.

the measly scoops salary is not nearly enough to cover all of the new bills and expenses steve has, but he's not willing to leave hawkins. so he reaches out to his friends back in italy, and they refer him to their american connections. steve doesn't model at the same level as before, but he poses for a couple of zines and one artist who got a little too handsy at his exhibition. but he's able to make it through until the mall blows up.

this routine continues and he starts working at family video with robin at his side, but he keeps his side job a secret from the kids, using the excuse of visiting his parents to leave town for his shoots. he's not ashamed, but he knows he wouldn't "be normal" anymore if they found out.

but how does he explain his near mental breakdown at the sight of his healing demobat scars. they're raised and ugly, ruining what should have been a perfect body. and even though he uses scar cream everyday, they refuse to fade away completely. and how could anyone stand to be near such an ugly thing when all his life, steve was meant to be pretty? after all, love and adoration is fleeting.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Ok so we get this

and this

And I proceed to spiral about colour theory and costume theory and end up writing and expansion to this post I made about Buck in yellow ochre!!! Sorry y'all, you know what that means - my unhinged colour theory and costume meta's are Back!!!

Lets start by revisiting all of Bucks previous yellow ochre wearing shenanigans!

3x06 the yellow ochre sweater he wears when he gets sent home by Bobby - this does after we see Buck and Eddie making up with each other - a moment when we see Buck learning more about himself and growing (read becoming less self-centred and understanding the concept of being part of a team and recognising that he needs to be better about stepping in with Eddie!)

4x02 - Yellow ochre jumper - first in a video chat with Maddie, Chim and Albert, but then more importantly, when he is in his therapy session with dr Copeland - the whole ‘I hide my true feelings from others’ moment - yet another moment of Buck recognising something about himself. I think this is the most key scene in Bucks yellow ochre wearing - more on that in a bit.

4x03 Bucks yellow ochre t-shirt - a t-shirt that matches the shade of the jumper from above, and a moment when Buck confesses to Maddie that he’s in therapy - about being sad and lonely and wanting to be ‘finer’ 

4x04 - the yellow knit sweater from 3x06 is back (yes it is the same sweater) and this is when Buck has his entire life upended and he finds out about Daniel (kicking us into Buck begins)

4x11 - Buck talks to Maddie and Josh about Sue’s hit and run, then talks to Taylor about Sue. This one is a much brighter yellow than the ochres we’ve seen up to now, but I’m including it because I think its relevant to Bucks arc here (also because it connects into the next time we see Buck wearing yellow - the will scene) the concept of being hit with information that leads to Bucks growth and the nature of most hit and runs not being solved, the perpetrator never being caught and therefore not getting closure on something (this is super relevant I promise!)

Then we have 4x14 and two yellow ochre tops - the first is the sweater, this one is trending more towards orange brown, but its still in the ochre wheelhouse! this oe is all about communication - mostly at Buck - Taylor telling him how stupid he was for climbing the crane, receiving a phonemail from Ana to tell him Eddie is awake, facilitating communication between Eddie and Chris and then Buck communication himself - thinking it would’ve been better if he had been shot. Directly communicating to the audience (as much as Eddie) the inner monologue of Bucks own opinion of the point of his existence.

Then we get the beloved will scene and Buck wearing a yellow ochre shirt, still lighter than the other yellow ochre we’d seen up to this point, with the exception of the previous one which is brighter still. again this is mostly about people communicating at Buck rather than him being the communicator - much like with the previous Jumper. It somewhat plays into the concept of Buck being a passive part of his life rather than actively living it - Kinda hard to explain at this point without the context of the costumes from s5&6. I also want to point out Taylor is in that dark green again here - in the scene when Buck opens the door to the Diaz house.

5x03 gives us Buck in that same shade of yellow ochre (bear in mind we haven’t seen him in any other colour between the will reveal and this scene (beyond uniform!) and here we have Buck pushing Eddie and communicating without actually giving much of himself away - yes he uses himself as an example, but he doesn’t actually open up about himself all that much (this is important - its not the time for that and it provides space for Buck to continue his internal monologue about his self worth) after this he goes home to his loft and we get him communication to a Taylor who isn’t actually present in the space - a symbolic scene that shows that he gets just as much from her absence as her presence (a play on the idea that Buck can communicate better with her when she isn’t actually present compared with when she is - its a juxtaposition of the scene from earlier when they were in bed together and she didn’t listen to anything he was saying, or his wants/needs)

5x04 a scene at the Buckley-Han apartment where Buck isn’t communicating with Chim - Chim is very much communication with Buck about his despair over Maddie leaving - Buck obviously knows where Maddie is at this point, but he diocesan’t take the opportunity to communicate effectively with Chim. so This is yet another example of Buck failing to communicate, while some one around him is clearly communicating and this scene has the addition of secrecy thrown into the mix.

Then we have 5x14 - this one is a bit less obvious - its the yellow ochre and black plaid jacket - its an outlier in that its not solid yellow ochre, but it is again a scene where we get communication - this time BUck is actually the one to do some communicating, but like pretty much always, we don’t get him pushing too much and we see him continuing to deflect from making things about himself - he’s desperate to talk about the shooting and its impact on him, but Eddie resists and Buck backs off. the check here is a nice addition because it shows the concept of cross purposes, but also there is less yellow than in other outfits - the black seems to be ‘devouring’ the yellow - almost like a play on the idea that this was Bucks one big chance to communicate, but he doesn’t take it.

That is the last time we see Buck wearing yellow ochre until the end of season 6 - 6x15 and his date with Natalia to be precise! we’re back to that same shade of yellow ochre and once again we have Buck communicating - but its very much playing into what Natalia what to hear. I don’t doubt that BUck wants to talk about his death and resurrection, but we don’t actually see the conversation beyond the superficial overtures Buck makes. This plays into the suggestion that its about him trying to impress Natalia rather than actually about what Buck needs or wants to say. Its once again Buck communicating without actually communicating. something Eddie picks up on in the later graveyard scene and tries to provide the space for him to open up - which Buck doesn’t take.

The theme continues with the the next Buck/Natalia date in 6x17 - yellow ochre once again, this time an open shirt - again its that same shade, and we see a continuation of the Buck communicate via deflection technique he employs - this scene, like his previous date with Natalia, is more about her and the writers showing us her hang ups/ insecurities than it is about Bucks - beyond showing us that they aren’t actually all that compatible - its kind of framed in the same way as his previous relationships (especially Taylor) - Buck playing into what he thinks someone wants him to be rather than being who he actually is. 

This concept is something we see in pretty much all of the previous scenes where Buck is wearing Yellow ochre, this desire to be what people need him to be rather than who he actually is. there are a couple of exceptions - the first time we see Buck in yellow ochre is probably the only instance where we see Buck being somewhat honest with himself - there is an element of him playing the role he needs to to win back Eddies friendship, but I think its coming from a genuine place and is born out of a real desire to be better - he really did learn his lesson. The fact that the next time we see the yellow ochre used is in his therapy session scene where he literally states that he hides his true feelings from others is a big giant yellow ochre flag waving around telling us that when we see Buck in yellow ochre he will be playing into that idea - and that’s then how it transpires in every subsequent scene where he is in yellow ochre.

Which brings me to this new still

no one can tell me there isn’t an air of conflict about that scene - the dark cool tone of the image suggests a coolness to the room - that idea of the cold shoulder or the temperature dropping when there is conflict between two people. their body language is also adding to that vibe - Chris turned in on himself, not sat with Buck, the space between them.

Whatever this scene transpires being about, based on what we've seen with Buck wearing yellow ochre, we can assume its going to continue to play into this idea of Buck not being fully truthful with people and fitting into the role he thinks people want him to pay rather than being true to himself.

I do want to add to this theory by looking at Christophers shirt as well. The grey/ yellow combination is a bit reminiscent of Breaking point (the episode that really is the gift that keeps on giving) becasue we get Chris in grey and Eddie in tan - that is yellowish toned whilst not actually being yellow

There isn't a good screenshot of them together, but the placing of Chris and Buck in the new one has echoes of Eddie and Chris in that scene (one that is interestingly enough playing into the idea of changing family dynamics, but also the moment before and the one that happens afterwards at Bucks loft, directly placing Buck into a parental role (as an aside the idea of Buck being a miracle worker plays into the theme of Eddie looking for magic, just saying!))

Anyone want to play a game of whose shirt does this look like??!!!

Oh you do! well what if I leave these two pictures just here...

yes, yes that is a Chris sized version of that shirt - you know the one Buck was wearing when he and Taylor talked about complicated family dynamics and about telling 'other peoples stories because I hate telling my own' you know that scene about playing a part and not being yourself around people you're supposedly close to! Yes That scene - or how about the scene which happens to be the last time we saw Buck in Chris's bedroom, where Buck talks to Eddie about complicated family dynamics, about needing to have the right outfit on for the occasion, the scene where they talk about retirement, oil and Buck is playing with a dinosaur! yeah see where I'm going with this! Chris wearing a grey shirt that similar to Bucks is Paralleling those scenes - so playing into the idea of history or of thing being outdated and needing to change, of dressing for the occasion (an allegory for playing a role - to fit in to whatever environment you're in rather than being your true self) and most importantly of complicated family dynamics - suggesting that there may have been some change in the dyamics - perhaps this will play into the will (also colour paralleling the will scene as Buck is in yellow ochre and the breaking point scene with Eddie in a yellowish colour and Chris in grey) and perhaps Chris discovering Buck would be his guardian in the event Eddie isn't around. I mean we'll have to wait and see for the actual context, but I will eat my hat if the season 7 scene isn't playing into Buckley-Diaz family dynamics in some way!

Back to this still

I keep flip flopping on if its Buck or Bobby, but right now the lack of grey hair is making me lean towards it being Buck.

This is a still of the back of Bucks head from his coma dream for comparison (blurry as hell as he's not in focus but it looks enought like the same shape of hairline and of Olivers ear for me to feel like its more Buck than Bobby!

I think the shirt is what is throwing me off though because its just so not a typical Buck shirt (excepting coma dream Bucks!).

I've gone back through my notes and I just can't find any examples of Buck wearing this kind of patterning or shirt before, the closest we get is that hideous shirt he is wearing at the hospital after Kameron has given birth

The only thing I can do is scream into the void about check theory because check does't bode well for people - they always end up in the middle of the drama (see my check theory posts linked on my pinned post for more) and while they come out the other side (99% of the time) Buck in check for that scene in 6x18 pretty much doomed his relationship with Natalia (its specific to her and not C&K's baby as Buck wasn't wearing it when he delivered it!) and as that shirt in the still is very un Buck like, has not only yellow ochre in it, but also its a white base (and we all know buck in white is a bad sign!!) and its check patterned - my theory is that this scene is connected to Natalia in some way - either Buck is not being true to him self in more than one way - that things are going to/have come to a head for their relationship (my kingdom for a reverse of Buck to Eddie about Ana in 5x03!!!) and lead to a pretty big change in some way (fingers crossed for Buck to end it and then finally break down and deal with his trauma!!!)

Some other things about that shirt - I've brightened it up in the picture below - the colour combination - the green blue and yellow ochre are giving me call backs to coma Buck (another reason I think it might be connected to Bucks unresolved trauma around his death and Eddies absense in his dream)

Then there is the burgundy stripe in combination with Eddies hand placement and the fact Eddie is wearing a denim shirt - its very Tsunami call back (even the white plays into this as well as Buck was in white when he saved Chris) -

I'm quite probably clowning hard at this point, but the fact we've got Eddie in denim again (not something he wears all that often) in a scene where he puts his hand on Bucks shoulder in that way and with his Christopher watch so very prominent - we'll I might be feeling a certain way about it.

It would make sense to play into that story arc - after all - the opening of season 7 is very much centred around a big water based disaster - its got to bring up a few things for the two of them. If it is related, Eddies Denim being darker at this point would be a nice play on things - the idea that there is more deepness - more depth to his relationship with Buck than there was in early season 3 (it even calls back to flash back Eddie in 3x16 - he is wearing dark denim when him and Shannon fight and Chris wakes up)

Ok thats enough rambling from me! Hopefully i have made a tiny bit of sense! of to go back to screaming in the void now!!

tagging a few people who might be interested! @extasiswings @copyninjabuckley @oneawkwardcookie @spotsandsocks @mandzuking17 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @theladyyavilee @mistmarauder

[ceaselesswwatch3r]

i really do love how marvel is starting to introduce more LGBTQ characters into their shows and movies because its not just side characters or characters who mentioned mearly once or twice, its actually the main characters