#flatmate!eddie munson

[stevebabey]

Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels���warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

[pollenallergie]

aimeeeeeeee, why would you hide this in the tags????

this is so hot!! fu-

someone needs to write a perv!flatmate!eddie x reader x slightlyperv!flatmate!billy fic rn!!!

roommate!eddie who offers to do your laundry as a secret ploy to steal your panties

[pedroschka]

Eddie Munson

requests are open

Happy Feet fluff blurb

Eddie is thrilled to finally see that thing you've been hiding from him

Bat Signal fluff

Eddie has a present for you

Imagine | fluff

Imagine || fluff

My Art

Eddie edit

Eddie "the crow" Munson

couple drawing challenge - steddie version

midnight swim with Eddie

cozy morning

Joseph Quinn

(not writing for anymore)

Shots! Fluff?

You find yourself in a bar taking shots with Joseph Quinn and leaving with his phone number

Therapy hurt/comfort, tw depression, hint of smutty time

You're getting confronted with yourself after Joe's breakthrough and he helps you realize that seeking professional help isn't something to be ashamed of

Glasses Fluff blurb

Joe being an annoying little shit and keeps stealing your glasses (affectionately)

Not my type Fluff

One sided feelings can destroy friendships, so you and Joe make it very clear that you are not each other's type, pinky promise clear

Bread in the oven part 1 fluff blurb

You feed them, you love them and watch them grow...Just ignore the eating part

Baby and Scones part 2 fluff blurb

Title says it all, Joe and baby are baking scones

Dating app dilemma mostly fluff, hint of angst

Dating apps suck and so do men...but maybe not all of them

The butterfly 18+ smut, fluff

A special book keeps you and Joe busy (and pushes you both to your limits)

Not daddy fluff blurb

You're going down memory lane and revisit the show that brought you and Joe together but your daughter is only interested in one person

The marriage proposal(s) fluff

How many times does Joe have to propose to you for you to take him seriously

Make a wish fluff blurb

Celebrating Joe's birthday your own way

Flowers fluff

First impressions are the best impressions - and you certainly delivered

Flatmates with benefits 18+ smut, fluff

Having the perks of a relationship while still staying single sounds like the perfect combination until it just doesn't cut it anymore.

Baby got a temper pure dad!Joe fluff

A day in life of Joe and his toddler

(reblogs and comments are very appreciated additional to your likes)

[final-girl96]

Joseph Quinn’s upside-down year

He’s gone from hustling for bit parts to playing a beloved character in one of the biggest shows on TV, thirsted after by fans and fellow celebrities alike. Inside the surreal year of 2022’s buzziest British breakout

By Jack King

5 December 2022

Coat, £1,970, Jil Sander by Lucie and Luke Meier. T-shirt, £7.90, Uniqlo. Hat, £325, Lock & Co. Hatters.Ben Parks

When Joseph Quinn took the call that would come to change his life for good, he was standing in his kitchen in South London. His agent was on the other end of the phone. “He called me, like, ‘Who’s that?’ And I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ So he goes, ‘I’m sorry, is that Eddie from Stranger Things?’” Quinn recalls. “I literally fell to my knees. Like, What? Are you sure? It felt like it’d just fallen out of the fucking sky.” It was November 2019. Only three weeks prior, in the very same flat, he’d recorded his first self-tape for the hit Netflix series with the help of his then-girlfriend and flatmate. “Obviously, at that point, I’m just fucking suspicious about the whole thing. This never happens. And here we are.”

Flash forward to today: after storming into the public consciousness as the sci-fi throwback’s latest anointed breakout, starring as punkish pariah Eddie Munson in Stranger Things series four, the 28-year-old has just flown out to LA for the third time in his what-the-fuck year. It’s a rhythm he’s still very much getting used to. Resultantly, we’re chatting over Zoom, myself in London’s Mile End, a short swim down the Thames from the unassuming world of his adolescence. “I love South London. I still live there – you get accused of heresy if you leave,” he jokes. “I might want to branch out somewhere different, because you don’t want to feel stagnant. But my life’s there: I went to school there, it’s where I met all of my friends.”

Jacket, £1,400 and trousers, £725, Etro. Shirt, £99, Boss. Boots, £1,750, Dior. Ben Parks

He scored his first job, on the 2015 TV drama Dickensian, in his third year at LAMDA (“I was a jammy fucker,” he says), the hallowed Hammersmith drama school where British acting royalty – Cumberbatch, Cox, Ejiofor – cut their teeth. It was while he was in his graduating class, in fact, that he met Fabien Frankel, then a first year, now enjoying his own rise apropos of the Game of Thrones spin-off House of the Dragon.

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Quinn says of Frankel’s new-found stardom. “We’ve shared similar anxieties about the ridiculousness of our situations.” The two are good friends; Frankel, for his part, brims with praise. “As much as it pains me to say, he was always just a brilliant actor,” he says of Quinn. “There was always some magic on stage. Sadly we’ve never got to work together, but we’ve always stayed close.”

Quinn’s early luck with Dickensian, as it turns out, was a touch premature; after that show ran its course, Quinn didn’t work for nearly a year. But an influx of parts eventually came his way: first a gig as a Stark soldier in an episode of Game of Thrones, then, suddenly, a job on stage opposite Olivia Colman at the National Theatre. “He is utterly joyful, naughty, and fun,” Colman says of Quinn. “He puts the work in. You know you’re in safe hands.”

Coat, £3,200, shirt, £1,950 and trousers, £1,300, Prada. Shoes, £980, Church’s. Ben Parks

A steady trickle of work followed: BBC’s Howards End mini series, opposite Matthew Macfadyen; as the tragic revolutionary Enjolras in the Beeb’s not-a-musical adaptation of Les Mis, reuniting with Colman; under Steve McQueen in the first part of his critically acclaimed anthology film series, Small Axe. “I’ve been so lucky that I’ve not had to graft, and wait tables, and do the traditional catering jobs in between to keep the lights on,” Quinn says. “I’ve been fortunate enough, and savvy enough with my money just about, when things are looking a bit bleak, to book another gig. And that keeps the wolves from the door.” It was around the time of the London Film Festival premiere of his first major indie film, the psychosexual slow-burner Make Up, that he sent in his Stranger Things audition tape.

A few days after the call came in, he met the sibling duo who puppeteer Stranger Things, the Duffer brothers, over Skype. “They were very nice, and very kind,” Quinn remembers. “I was very disarmed by the whole thing. Kind of like, ‘Are you sure?’ And they said, ‘Yeah, we really want you to do it.’” In total, 287 actors read for the part, according to the Duffers, who describe the process as one of the longest casting searches they’ve ever had. “At one point, we remember getting nervous,” they say. Munson was abrasive and unlikeable on the page; they needed him to be lovable, without wanting to be loved. That confluence of traits seemed an impossible bullseye, until Quinn’s reels arrived. “Joe was hilarious and charming, but with an unpredictable, wild edge about him,” they recall. It was a no-brainer. The call was a formality. “He’s a director’s dream because he takes what’s on the page and sprints with it.”

Blazer, £2,360, and shirt, £500, Gucci. Ben Parks

Quinn’s anecdotes from those early days are cut with the sincere self-deprecation you might expect of a guy still scrambling to catch up with his own ascent. This is the stuff that Faustian bargains are made of, after all: over a billion hours’ worth of Stranger Things series four was watched within the first month of release. That’s a lot of eyeballs. “I was talking to Dan Cohen, the [executive] producer of Stranger Things, about it,” he says. “He talked about the over-nightness of these experiences now, with these streaming platforms. One moment you’re fine, and then it drops. It’s on in millions and millions of houses. After that, it just kind of snowballs.”

The first table read came next. “It was a very weird experience. I was sat next to the lovely Jamie Campbell Bower, who’s had experience in these bigger shows before,” he remembers. “Obviously, because everything has to be documented on this show, they were filming the table read to keep the fans satiated. The setup was that the pre-existing cast were on a very long table, and we were behind them, being kept secret from the cameras. We were shouting, delivering the lines to the back of the cast’s heads, which felt very odd.” Both he and Campbell Bower, as Quinn recalls, were “shitting it”. Following that, he had weeks of fittings, kitting him out in the idiosyncratic metalhead threads that form Munson’s outcast armour. He had his first day of shooting, and then… whiplash. “[Stranger Things co-director] Shawn Levy came out at the end of the day and said we’re going into… a lockdown of some kind,” he says. “A hiatus of two weeks. Which would’ve been nice.” It would be another six months before Quinn returned to set.

Shirt, £500, Gucci. Trousers, £924 and loafers, £650, Dolce & Gabbana. Ben Parks

What felt to him like a decade later, the show finally bowed to the masses. He watched the Stranger Things series four finale, wherein Munson goes out with self-sacrificial aplomb, with his little sister, dad, and his dad’s wife. Do they treat him differently now? “No, definitely within your immediate circle you hope nothing changes. It’s a very weird thing to comment on… [if] you take into consideration the actual fucking fresh hell that people are going through now, it feels like an arbitrary thing to feel threatened by,” he says. “Eighty per cent of it is amazing. Professionally, 100 per cent is amazing. 20 per cent of it is… fucking bizarre.”

Somewhere within that 20 per cent: the online drama between co-star Noah Schnapp and Doja Cat soon after the season aired, when the former publicly shared a DM from the rapper asking Schnapp to play Cupid between her and Quinn. “I’m kind of hesitant to talk about it really, because I didn’t do anything,” Quinn notes. “It’s not something that I put out into the world. But I do think she’s an incredible artist. It’s flattering.” This intrusive level of public scrutiny obviously comes part and parcel with sudden, incandescent fame. The tyranny of Instagram gossip and fans reading telescopic paparazzi photos like tea leaves are the unfortunate by-products of being at the top of the screen-acting game. Nevertheless, it must be difficult to adjust to. “People will weave narratives about you that aren’t true, I guess,” he says. “And I think accepting your powerlessness over that [is best]. If you’re going to correct people constantly, you’re going to end up exhausted.”

Blazer, £2,360, shirt, £500, trousers, £890 and boots, £1,230, Gucci. Ben Parks

But being famous, a term he loathes to use for himself, isn’t all bad. Take the sudden groundswell of cultish Munsonmania, perhaps no better demonstrated than at London Film and Comic Con this summer. “It was the first time I’d ever encountered the fandom,” he recalls. There were rumours that Quinn was “mistreated” by the staff during a meet and greet, blindsided by the sheer number of Munsonites, but he was quick to debunk them, a point he reiterates now. “It was very overwhelming. I don’t think the Con were prepared for the numbers. I certainly wasn’t.” In a viral video widely shared online at the time, a fan expressed their impassioned gratitude: for Quinn’s time at the Con, for bringing Munson to life. Quinn seemed emotionally overwhelmed, dabbing away tears with the inside of his elbow, barely conjuring a murmur. An outsider might conclude this to be the moment that the pin dropped. “I don’t want to sound too saccharine about it, but it is moving,” he says. “If you have a curiosity about people and storytelling, for a character you’ve created with the help of others… for that to resonate with people, it feels very profound, you know?”

And then there are the holy-shit moments. First up: in late July, he made his chat-show debut on Jimmy Fallon, though that came within a whisker of being cancelled. “I was sick before I went on,” he says. “I stupidly had oysters for lunch on the day, thinking that I needed some vigour and vitality and that’d get me through it.” Turns out his mind was playing tricks: that stir in the pit of his gut was the product of acute anxiety, per the show’s backstage nurse. But he still went on. He met Kevin Hart, “a consummate pro,” in the green room backstage. “The nerves just bounce off him, I think, whereas they were just leaving bullet holes in me,” Quinn says. A month before our interview, he was named one of Variety’s 10 Actors to Watch for 2022. Patton Oswalt introduced himself to Quinn at the swanky brunch coronation thereafter. “He just feels so many miles away from my life. For him to come up to me was very weird.”

Jumper, £1,050 and shirt, £680, Dior. Ben Parks

Stratospheric parts like Eddie Munson are a “lottery ticket,” as Quinn puts it. And at the end of it all, he’s effectively coming away with a blank check. Is he going to put his energy into indie roles, like the drama he finished shooting over the summer, Hoard, or is he marching up to the Broccolis to demand Bond? “Yeah, I’ve just got off a Zoom with Barbara, actually…” he jokes. “I don’t know. It’s such a fucking cliché, but it’s about connection to the material. With Hoard, I’m specifically excited for the director, Luna Carmoon, and the lead, Saura Lightfoot Leon. That’s a lovely experience, completely different to these behemoth sets. But you want range.” A judicious answer. Really though: Bond? “I think I’d be fucking stupid to say no to that,” he says, laughing. “But, come on, it’s not even worth entertaining.”

Even that is on the presumption that Munson’s Stranger Things journey is over. “Yeah, I’ve said I don’t know because I really don’t know,” Quinn says. “Shawn Levy has said it publicly. I think [his return] would be very, very, very unlikely. He seems pretty fucking dead to me,” he says, punctuated by a sharp chortle. He takes a moment.

“It’s just a beautifully written arc. The beginning, middle and end are so powerful as it stands, so I think to just crowbar him into a narrative… you don’t want him to overstay his welcome,” he continues, ever the diplomat, seemingly wary of disappointing the legion of fans who made him. But a sense of certitude undergirds his prudence; the feeling that, after years of cohabitation, he’s ready to let Munson go.

“He did the job that the Duffers wanted him to do,” Quinn says. “By no means am I ruling it out. That’s a decision for the grown-ups to make. But Stranger Things was doing fine without Eddie. I think they’ll be fine next season without him, too.”

PRODUCTION CREDITS

Photographs by Ben Parks

Styling by Fabio Immediato

Grooming by Brady Lee

Jacket, £239, shirt, £99 and Boss Bottled parfum, £86, Boss. Ben Parks

[icallhimjoey]

Only Temporary

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe needs a temporary living space, and you happen to have a spare room to let. One plus one equals two, baby.

CW / disclaimer: rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, swearing (lots), so far fluff only

Author’s note: this is the fourth part out of five. I’ll add onto the summary as the story grows, if it needs it. If this is the first part you come across, go read the parts in order, I beg of you (ive gotten asks about this and its just... read all of it! you'll understand the story!). (rewritten on 15 nov 2023)

Wordcount: 4.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

As it turned out, Joe was an instant hit with your family. 

Which, yea, of course, he was. But to be fair, any person you would’ve brought would’ve been the prefered guest over you. 

This instant liking of Joe included your stepmother, who, from the moment he walked into the kitchen, shook her rubber-gloved hand, and passed her the bottle of champagne – “Stepmother? Surely not! You look like sisters!” – was eating out of his hand. 

Blushing like a teenager, she poured him a drink in one of her best crystal glasses and never once told him to take his shoes off. 

The rest of your family crowded around him, shaking hands, or in the case of your father, slapping him vigorously on the shoulder as if he was beating dust from a carpet.

Yea, they fucking loved him. And it had only been a minute.

Meanwhile, you were left to pour your own drink and weren’t allowed off the doormat until you had removed your boots. 

Honestly, everyone made such a fuss over him that you almost felt miffed. You were waiting for the comments, or side-eyed glances at you for not bringing your friend, and instead bringing a stranger, a flatmate you hadn’t even bothered to tell your family you’d gotten, but none of those came. 

You didn’t mind, you thought, but, upon closer inspection, you did mind, actually.

Joe didn’t steal attention the way your friend would have done. 

She would’ve made an ass of herself and made a seemingly innocent but secretly nasty comment towards your stepmother, or your brother’s girlfriend. 

She would’ve said the things everyone would silently be thinking and break the stiffness in the room you would so often feel when you were around these people. 

But to be fair, it had been a while since you’d brought a boy over to meet your family. You thought back to when you’d introduced your last boyfriend and they had reacted similarly to how they were talking to Joe now. 

They’re just being nice, you then thought.

“Wait,” you caught your brother narrowing his eyes at Joe, then doing a double take before snapping his fingers and pointing at him. 

“Eddie fucking Munson?”

All eyes landed on Joe, you know, if they weren’t already on him, seeing as the shiny new toy in the room seemed to be eating up all the attention.

“Yea,” Joe smiled like a shy schoolboy and scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh, my God,” your brother’s eyes were about to pop out of his skull if they grew any larger. 

No one else in the room really knew what was happening, but the excitement in your brother’s voice ate up the atmosphere.

“What?” you didn’t get it.

“Your flatmate’s an actor?” your brother looked at you, his big, excited eyes turned very judgemental towards you. It made you furrow your brow in further confusion. 

How did he know Joe was an actor?

“Ooh, she has a type, doesn’t she?” your stepmother nudged your dad, and you wondered if it was scientifically possible to undergo some sort of surgery to be able to shoot real-life daggers from your eyes at her. 

She’d serve right to leave your ex-boyfriend out of this. Out of everything. Forever.

“Babe!” you brother called out to his girlfriend who was in the kitchen. 

“Oh shit,” he was quick to cover his mouth. 

“She’s not finished watching it yet– no spoilers everyone!”

It would’ve been really cool if someone was going to clock you in on what they were talking about. Your brother noticed your confusion that hadn’t let up yet.

“Don’t tell me,” he swung an arm around your shoulders, and it made you want to hurt him physically. 

Kick him in the shins. 

This faux affection was only to smugly shove something into your face, you knew it, you’d lived with your brother long enough to see right through his tricks. 

“You’ve not seen it, have you?”

You looked at Joe, suddenly scared you’d been living with the likes of someone like Tom Holland, or Tom Felton, or Tom Hiddleston. 

Why all famous actors that came to mind were Tom’s, you weren’t sure. 

Except you were, but it was something to dissect another time. Not right now, stood in your father’s living room with your three-week-old flatmate who suddenly seemed… different, to you.

“Seen what?” you scoffed.

“She hasn’t,” Joe answered your brother as if you weren’t in the room.

“Of course, she hasn’t,” you brother laughed, and Joe joined in. 

You hated every second of it.

Your brother was quick to google Joe on his phone, and still under his arm, he showed you images of Joe on red carpets, in character, from photoshoots… it made you look up at Joe, utterly in shock. 

Because, what the fuck?

Joe seemed a little flustered, uncomfortable almost, and you stepped forward to hit him in the arm with a fist. Got him right on the bicep, right on that line between muscles, where it really hurt.

“You could’ve said!”

“Wha–” Joe comically scoffed with big eyes and a smile, before shaking his head and scrunching his face at you. 

How stupid would that conversation have been?

It took a minute to get over the initial shock of your family knowing Joe – it was just your brother and his girlfriend at first, but then when more people started arriving, it was your brother’s introduction of Joe to everyone that guaranteed that after dinner, everyone was aware that they were in the proximity of a celebrity. 

In a house filled with people, not a single person had asked you about your work, or about your relationship status. 

You were merely an afterthought and... yea, all right, you weren’t being subtle about it, so what about it? The lack of attention annoyed you to no end.

You were all huffd and puffs and glares and scoffs. Kept rolling your eyes at everyone a lot, too.

The only thing people were talking to you about was your flatmate. And you realised you didn’t really have answers to any of the questions they were asking you.

“What’s he working on now?” Not a clue. 

“A movie?” Maybe. 

“Or maybe a TV series?” Honestly, you didn’t know. 

You’d seen Joe rehearse lines, but you’d never gotten close enough to actually hear what he’d been saying, too scared he’d ask you to help him out and read lines with him, like your ex-boyfriend used to do.

“How long will he be staying?” Actually, you weren’t sure about that either. 

Joe’d said a month, but he’d also said six weeks. He could be halfway through his stay, or he could be walking out next week. 

What you did tell people, was that it was only temporary. 

He would leave as soon as they wrapped filming and saying that aloud to several family members made you miss Joe. 

Already. 

You could retch at yourself, it didn’t make any sense at all, but... that’s how you felt.

Cool time to realise it too, given your location and the people you were surrounded with.

Jesus.

“Why is he staying with you?” A rude question, but one that you’d started wondering yourself, now suddenly very aware that Joe could probably afford better accommodation for himself. 

One without a hag of a flatmate, for one.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed at Joe who was held in a death grip by one of your cousins as she slurred words into his ear. 

Joe gave you a small smile before looking down, trying to focus on following whatever story he was being told by her. 

That protectiveness- no, possessiveness you felt when your best friend first met Joe and kept flirting, had found its way back into the pit of your stomach. 

Your cousin was a nice girl, but this didn’t sit right with you at all. When you caught Joe’s eye again, you nodded towards the garden, and you saw Joe excuse himself and wiggle free from what to him were stranger’s hands as he followed you out.

Outside, Joe took a deep breath and immediately reached for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket.

“Give me one,” you demanded and held your hand out. Joe froze for a second and eyed you curiously.

“You don’t smoke,”

“I’m a social smoker. We’re at a party. Give me one,” you sounded stressed out as you shook your open palm at him until he obliged and handed you a cigarette.

You made eye-contact as Joe held out a lit lighter for you to use, and Joe could feel your breath on his fingers.

“Your family’s nice,” he then said, after lighting his own cigarette. 

You scoffed at him. 

Sure, they were nice. To him, maybe.

“My family’s a lot, I think is what you meant to say,”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Joe laughed, and, you sort of felt bad for him.

“Honestly, I’m sorry, but I’ve tried warning you-”

“It’s fine,” Joe smiled warmly at you. “I’m having fun.” 

A silence fell where you both puffed at your cigarettes, and you took a few slow steps into the dark garden. 

“Are you?” Joe then asked, following you.

“Hmm… define fun,”

Another silence fell, and you could feel the air grow awkward between you. Then something clicked inside your head.

“So, Eddie Munson, was it? Are you... are you fucking serious, Joe? Eddie?” you referenced your cat. The one that had taken such a strong liking to Joe, you weren’t sure how he’d cope once Joe moved out.

Joe grinned.

“And you didn’t think to mention that at all?” you grew playful in your motions, reaching a small patio at the back of the garden, just beside the shed that still held your old bike.

“What would I have said?” Joe defended, and you agreed. “You asked a lot of questions, but my work didn’t come up, so I didn’t think it was important.”

True. You hadn’t even thought of asking him about his job until after he’d moved in already.

Joe was right, there was no way that chat could’ve gone well. 

You imagined Joe telling you about one of his characters and the only reaction you could think to have was to shove him out the door immediately. 

You’d have never let him move into your spare room had you known beforehand.

“Well... you could’ve at least let me know that my new flatmate’s been on covers of magazines and that,”

You tried to think how you had been able to not have known, and the answer was simple. You never really set foot outside of your flat with Joe. 

There’d been no way for you to see how others reacted to him. 

You also didn’t really consume much new media. You were still stuck watching romantic comedies from the 90s and early 2000’s whenever you felt like watching TV. Just, something about Hugh Grant and his stuttery, idiotic, beautiful self, you know?

“I did say I was an actor, and you’ve not exactly shown much interest to be fair,” Joe pointedly said before taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

You couldn’t help but think he was attractive like this. 

He was right. 

You’d very muchly refrained from asking questions about Joe’s profession, simply because you didn’t like what he did. You felt a pang of guilt; it would’ve been polite of you have at least asked some surface level questions.

“So,” Joe loudly said, blowing out smoke into the darkness. “I heard you have a type?”

You immediately wanted the ground to swallow you up.

“I don’t,” It was quick out of your mouth. 

For a second, you didn’t want to explain yourself further. Let him guess at what your stepmother had meant when she’d made the comment earlier. But Joe didn’t speak and gave you questioning eyes, and you succumbed far too easily to his silent pleads.

“My ex-boyfriend was an actor,” you winced, and it made Joe raise his eyebrows up high.

“Oh? Anything I would’ve seen him in?” it was a question Joe had gotten all night, and one that your brother had answered for him every single time. 

Joe now asking you the same thing made you laugh out loud.

“No. Well, there was the one Go Compare ad he did,” you thought back to how proud he’d been to land a TV ad. And then how pissed off he’d been when you’d made fun of him for it. 

Come on, Go Compare? It was the funniest thing you’d ever heard.

“But no, I don’t think so. It was a lot of long evenings reading lines with him and helping him do self-tapes, and then having to pay all of his bills because he wasn’t landing anything,” you took a sharp breath before sarcastically adding, 

“Great memories.”.

“Yea, well,” Joe pulled the corners of his mouth down and cocked his head to the side. “It’s a tough business.”

Another silence lingered. It was a little chilly outside, but you noticed that your body was glowing on the side closest to Joe. Good thing you were fairly sober still, otherwise you might have mistaken it for a crush.

“Hey-” Joe started. “Are you a good-” You spoke at the same time.

Both of you were interrupted by the patio doors opening.

“Shit,” you hissed and were quick to step behind the shed to hide.

“Hello?” someone called out as you were frantically waving over Joe to hide behind the shed with you. 

When he didn’t, you lurched forward, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into you until you were both out of sight of whatever family member had stepped into the garden. 

In the shadows, with two lit cigarettes still, you held a finger over your own mouth, signaling for Joe to keep quiet.

“What are we doing?” Joe whispered, but you made big angry eyes at him. 

You were stood very close together, and your grip on Joe’s collar remained strong. Joe could smell your perfume, and even though your eyes looked heated, what he could see of them in the dark looked beautiful. He could lie to himself and say he hadn’t noticed them before, but he had. Being so close to you now, kissing-distance, honestly, just meant he had no way of denying how beautiful he thought you looked.

“I thought I saw them step out,” your family member spoke to someone inside before the patio doors closed again and you sighed with relief.

“Thank God,” you let go of Joe and stepped around him to peek around the corner of the shed to see that you’d been left alone.

You looked back at Joe, who was giving you a look as if to say you'd gone insane.  

“They don’t know I smoke,” you simply said, and if Joe hadn’t gotten the full picture of your position within this family, this surely did it.

You finished the cigarette and looked around to see where you could hide the bud. You ended up throwing it over the hedge where you knew it’d land in an alleyway. 

“Give me another,” you then said, not ready to go back inside yet, and saw that Joe was still stood behind the shed, eyeing you from the shadow that made it hard for you to read his face.

“Are you sure you want to risk it? Might lose out on some pocket money if your dad sees,” Joe then said sarcastically holding one up for you.

You thought back to how your parents had gotten their best parenting in when they’d caught your older brother sneaking cigarettes into the house at sixteen. Ever since they you knew that you’d absolutely be in for it if they’d ever catch you with one. 

You knew it was weird that you operated on something you’d seen happen when you were nine years old, but, alas. It was what it was, and you could never let your family know you sometimes enjoyed inhaling literal tar.

You snatched the cigarette from his hands and noticed when you held out a hand for the lighter, that Joe wouldn’t just give it to you, didn’t just hand it over, but instead lit it again for you to lean in closer to him like he’d done before. 

It gave you a better look at his hands, and you felt the muscles in your stomach tighten. 

Oh, no.

Shit.

You took a long drag and hummed as you exhaled, trying your best to keep the air between you and Joe light and casual, ignoring whatever it was you felt brewing inside.

Because something was definitely brewing inside.

It was a good thing you hadn’t asked for a cigarette from Joe when he’d just moved in. You’d have developed a cough by now if you had.

“Am I a good what?” Joe suddenly asked.

“Huh?” you’d spoken too soon, because the second the word left your mouth, you knew what Joe meant. 

You were about to ask him something when you’d been interrupted by a family member stepping out into the garden.

“Oh, yes. Are you a good football player?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him in question, face all serious, no hint of banter.

The question threw Joe off completely. 

Was this your idea of flirting?

“Because I’ll trade you for another player if you’re not.”

You hadn’t told Joe about the football game your family would always play on Sunday mornings. It was a rite of passage: Sunday mornings on the beach meant a game of football before you were allowed near the breakfast table. 

None of you were any good, but it was the one thing you always enjoyed when visiting your dad on a weekend. 

Even when you were hungover. 

Even when it would be shitty weather. 

Even when bloody injured – you thought back to a time when your uncle in a wheelchair with a broken foot had been forced to be a goalie on your team one time – whoever stayed the night on a Saturday would be called out of bed and be dragged out onto the sand the following Sunday to have a go at kicking a ball back and forth. 

You liked it even more because you knew your stepmother really didn’t like the tradition that your family had started when you were younger and your parents had still been together.

So, the next morning, when you were harshly awoken by your father opening your bedroom door and flicking on the lights to illuminate the two of you in your wooden bunkbeds, you hung your head over the side to look down at Joe in his bunk.

“Good morning,” you said through squinty eyes, hair cascading down the steps of the ladder. 

“You ready for this?”

You knew he wasn’t which, if anything, brought you great joy.

The skies were grey overhead, but it wasn’t cold at all, and bar a lone person walking their dog, you were the only ones on your patch of beach. You had decided you didn’t want to be on Joe’s team, but more so because you didn’t want to be on your brother’s team, and he insisted he wanted to play with Joe rather than against him.

One of your brother’s friends had made his way over too, and you decided that he could be your best teammate. 

Your brother immediately claimed the game was rigged as he put together the plastic tubes of one of the little goals, but you dad was quick to shut him up. 

For teams to be equal, you dad had been made the referee and you grinned at Joe from your side of the field before it all kicked off. 

Joe didn’t know what he was in for: none of your family were known to play a fair game. 

In fact, the aim was more to prevent the other team from playing a normal game of football at all. 

It was a game of football with rugby rules. Sort of. A contact sport, as far as all of you were concerned.

When both goals were in place, your dad threw the ball into the game and you were quick to launch yourself at your brother in order to take him out. 

Absolutely not what Joe was expecting to happen. 

Toppling over in the sand, Joe threw up both his hands at the two of you and looked at your father to see if he was going to say something. 

He didn't. 

This wasn’t how Joe thought you played football. 

But you wrestled your brother in the sand and shrieked at his friend when you saw a cousin dive for his ankles. 

Luckily, he was fast, and when his feet found the ball, was quick to score a goal. You cheered, and you saw your dad hold a hand towards your side of the make-shift field. 

“One, nill!”

“Get with it, Quinn,” you shouted, walking backwards to your side of the pitch, as you high-fived your teammates.

Joe caught on fast, though. 

This was a feral version of football; a weird mix of footy and rugby, but no rules, apparently. Very hands-on. 

It was how your family had played ever since you were little and you couldn't match up against the adults playing. You and your brother would just launch yourself at their feet and hold onto their legs until adults started hurling themselves at each other too. 

You were allowed to kick a ball into a goal whilst holding someone's limbs tightly against their body, trying to swipe their feet from under their body to take them down. 

You honestly believed this was how all football matches should be played - it was so much more fun than just kicking a ball across the beach feet only.

When you finally got hold of the ball midway through the game, Joe ran over and grabbed hold of both your arms behind you. Digging his feet in the sand and leaning back, he prevented you from taking any more steps, but you weren’t easy and wiggled your hands free. This prompted Joe to grab hold of your waist, and it only took a second for the two of you to hit the sand beneath you, screaming as you did.

You were laughing when Joe yelled for your brother who swiftly ran over and took the ball. 

“No!” you cried when your brother scored a goal, and Joe finally let go of you.

Joe got up and looked at you as you laid on your back still, completely out of breath, with pieces of hair stuck in your mouth. 

Still pretty, Joe thought, as he held out his hand for you to grab to help you up.

You’d forgotten how scraped up you could get from Sunday morning football on the beach. 

The amount of tackling and falling you’d done had really done a number on your knees and elbows, but it was all overlooked, because in the end your father concluded your team to be the winning one. 

Entirely unfair. 

For the last few goals, he hadn’t even been paying attention. 

It had resulted in a huge pile up on top of your dad, after which no one argued as you all made your way back to the house for breakfast high on endorphins. 

Joe wondered why you disliked your family so much - this was the most fun he'd had in a good while.

When back at the house, you noticed Joe’s knees looked worse for wear too.

“Come on, we need to get the sand out,” you said and nodded your head for him to follow you up the stairs to the bathroom. 

“Any more scraped knees?” you called, not to make it too weird that you’d be slipping off to upstairs with Joe by yourself, but no one else joined you. 

Both still fully dressed, you stepped into the bath and used the shower head to rinse your legs free from sand, doing your very best not to get your clothes wet. 

For a second you thought Joe was going to fuck around and spray you, but the look you gave him, along with a stern, “Don’t!” made him reel it back in.

One of your knees in particular looked gnarly. There were a bunch of tiny little scrapes on your skin that, all clustered together, made quite the patch.

“I hope you weren’t planning on wearing a dress today,” Joe commented when he saw you dab at it with a facecloth.

“Huh?” Why should he care what you wore today?

“For your date, tonight?” Joe said kindly, his voice soft in case you didn’t want your family to hear.

“Oh.” 

You then realized you’d completely forgotten about your neighbour Tom. 

“Yea.”

  ---

The Taglisted: @ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @nobody-000 @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi  @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @thefemininemystiquee  - add yourself  

[songforeddiemunson]

Takeaways from Joe's episode of the "Off Menu" Podcast, where he discusses, in great detail, his perfect meal, among other things.

He was puzzled by American vernacular at first. Things like "sure," "appreciate you," or "you're good." But they started to creep into his speech after spending a lot of time there regardless.

He was super self-conscious about his accent as Eddie.

He has no tolerance for picky eaters. Just get over it and eat the thing. It's good.

He loves bread with salty butter. He had great focaccia in Italy.

Six oysters and a pint of Guinness, outside the restaurant. Could be a bench or a stool, as long as he's not standing. This is what he wants before he even gets inside.

Chips (fries) with mayo. Just a couple.

Steak tartare with dirty martinis.

He loves animals, and absolutely would not bite a live one.

He "really did the music hands to make the music."

Orecchiette, with broccoli and sausage.

Servers coming over with the pepper mill "gets on his tits" (annoys him).

He likes his wine "chilled and forgettable, like him" in the first course.

Big buttery fish, lemon, butter, capers. Turbot, perhaps.

He has a flatmate.

Then you level up with the good wine later, so it stands out.

But his favorite drink is a truly filthy, briny martini.

Pistachio affogato. Pistachio, pistachio, pistachio.

Go have a listen, it's a good time.

[eddienbird]

eddienbird - oneshot masterlist

Hey! Thank you to everyone who's been giving love to my main fanfic and especially my one-shots. I'm having an absolute ball writing all of these and I wanted to make a masterlist of all of them so you can save them and read more later. I had no idea when I started this account that it would get this many eyes on it.

I wanna shout out my partner, my real-life Eddie Munson for giving me inspiration on all these stories. I also wanted to say that if anyone has any requests for one-shots, I'm more than open to them. Please feel free to reach out! -Bird

NSFW oneshots | Minors DNI

Shotgun - Eddie and you are in the garage, where you are smoking weed for the first time.

Forget About It - You tell Eddie about your annoying day at work and he tries his best to cheer you up.

I Can See You, Eddie - Perv!Eddie watches you from inside while you workout in the backyard

I'll Show You - Eddie assumed you were a virgin and is fascinated to learn that you’re not.

You're So Annoying - Eddie forgot to leave the toilet seat up and you’re pissed.

Branded - Eddie gives you a stick and poke tattoo and he couldn’t be happier.

Joseph Quinn Oneshots

Please Don't Wake Up, Darling - Joseph wakes up early for a shoot but stays in bed for a moment to admire you

Among The Flowers - You and Joseph are having fun running around a hotel

Dinner At Home - Joseph is having dinner at home with you and his flatmate

Steddie

Concert Date - Swiftie!Steve x DeathGrips!Eddie fight over where to have their concert date

[twdeadfanfic]

I made NPC Sim Daryl Dixon and NPC Sim Eddie Munson into my SimSelf flatmates to see if she would get with any of them (or...both...) on 100% free will and with wicked whims mod...

And Sim Daryl and Sim Eddie ignored my sim and began to have sex with each other on the bathtub.

*sobs*

[abraca-fxckyou]

SO I GOT BULLIED INTO MAKING A STRANGER THINGS OC

Lilian Thompson

She/her, 23yo as of ST4

Lilian is a Hawkins native and was part of the newly minted Hellfire club when they adopted their first misfit, freshman Eddie Munson, during her senior year.

Since graduating she's spent her time working around town while she tries to figure out what to do with her life (something with animals she thinks). She worked at the record store in Starcourt before it ✨️burnt down✨️ and followed her boss when he opened a coffee shop on the same block as Family Video.

Lilian lives with her best friend and flatmate Nicole, along with her corgi puppy Baguette, a housewarming gift from her parents. She and Baguette cycle to work every day and he spends the day entertaining the customers. She has a knack for remembering cute peoples orders and definitely knows Heather's by rote.

She definitely notices the gaggle of teens following Eddie around town, proud to see the hellfire legacy continuing, and never believed for a second that he was the satanic murderer Jason and his band of goons made him out to be. She always thought Chrissy deserved better anyways.

Heather belongs to @chadillacboseman (thank u for bullying me into creating her she's so precious)

https://picrew.me/image_maker/1639356/

[binghvm]

the pre-established dynamics meme for Robin & Eddie & Steve plssss

@pcrfectstorms omg ok LFGGG

ROBIN BUCKLEY

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers (bc... gay in the 80′s)  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other [other meaning everything is chemistry based!]

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight [hellfire] club /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other

EDDIE MUNSON

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends *enemies meaning eden V ANNOYED WITH HIM ALWAYS  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other [other meaning everything is chemistry based!]

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight [hellfire] club /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other

STEVE HARRINGTON

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other [other meaning everything is chemistry based!]

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight [hellfire] club /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other

[pollenallergie]

matching friendship bracelets except they’re custom, matching cock rings that rockstar!eddie bought using the money he’s earned from corroded coffin’s first major tour for him and his flatmate-turned-lover, billy knight. he also spent a considerable amount of money getting you, his other flatmate-turned-lover, an actual bracelet that matches said cock rings while still looking like an actual piece of socially appropriate jewelry and not, well, a cock ring. what can he say? he’s a romantic.