#model!eddie munson

[munsonsmixtapes]

Sew Far, Sew Good

model!Eddie x fem!fashion designer!reader

summary: your designs are finally being showcased in a magazine, but it turns out that you slept with the model the night before

cw: MDNI (18+) backseat make out session, Eddie sucks on readers tits, reader receives a hickey

Not proofread!

You entered the building, nerves building up in your stomach. You were so excited but nervous to finally see your designs on someone who wasn’t yourself or one of your friends. The rumor was that they had actually gotten Eddie Munson to do it and you couldn’t have been more honored to have the biggest male model wear your clothes.

You greeted everyone you passed and they all returned warm smiles as you headed towards where you needed to be. The place was packed and it seemed like they all had a job to do which made you feel better than everything that was being done was for you and your photo shoot.

After looping around in a circle and asking for multiple directions, you finally got where you had been instructed to go and Wren, the photographer rushed towards you with open arms. Thank god, someone who was a hugger.

“There she is!” She smiled and pulled you into a tight hug has if you had been old friends and you took it, grateful for the gesture.

“Hey!” You greeted, pulling away. “I’m not late am I?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?” How could it be both?

“Yes, technically, but no because the model isn’t even here.” Of course.

“He’s not?” You didn’t know why you were surprised. He had a very bad reputation including being late to everything including thing like being late to his job where he was getting paid.

“No, he’s not. He’s in his way, but I heard that he was out late last night.” Another thing was that he was almost always getting drunk, even the night before a shoot. What a walking stereotype.

You were about to panic when someone bumped into you, causing you to spill the coffee you were holding. The brown liquid spread all over the floor and you just stood there, making no move to clean it up. You were moved out of the way as someone came with a roll of paper towels to clean up the mess.

You turned around to see who you had run into and you gasped. It was the guy who you had hooked up with the night before. He was the model?? He was Eddie Munson? You couldn’t blame yourself for not recognizing him since both the bar and his apartment had very low lighting. And the beard he had been sporting had been shaved, making him look much younger than he was.

“What are you doing here?” You asked at the same time.

“You’re wearing my designs,” you answered.

“And I’m the model.” Right, of course. You knew that. But everything was starting to feel like something out of a movie. Of course the one time you intend on having a one night stand, it turned out that you were going to be working together.

“You lied to me.” You crossed your arms over your chest and he mimicked your actions, forming his eyes into a glare.

“How?”

“You said your name was Ed.” You felt ridiculous for calling him for something as silly as that, but you just felt like you should have been upset.

“It’s a nickname for Eddie so it wasn’t a lie. And you’re one to talk, you said your name was Daisy.” You supposed you couldn’t blame him for that one, but you only did that for your safety.

“Because I’ve learned to not give people my real name because they get a little crazy.” Eddie only scoffed at that.

“I’d hate to break up this reunion, but we’re running behind, so can we get this started?” Wren interrupted. You turned to her, suddenly remembering why you were there. This was way more important than some stupid spat with someone you didn’t even know.

Eddie was pulled off to wardrobe and you just stood there, seeing that Wren was talking to you, but not hearing the words that were coming out of her mouth. You were too in shock. You didn’t know why, but it was surprising. Out of all the losers you had been with, you had finally gotten someone who had made a name for himself.

All of a sudden, you were being led to wardrobe because they wanted your input on the outfits Eddie was going to be put in and you put on a smile, trying your best to forget the events of the night before. You could still hear Eddie’s moans, his mouth licking and sucking on your cunt, the way he fucked you senseless until you were sure that you couldn’t walk.

The head of the department showed you the rack and let you pick what you wanted Eddie to wear for the first set of photos. You settled on your favorite. It was a black suit covered in black sequins that took you fucking hours to do and it made everyone who had tried it on look like a dream.

You turned away as the woman helped Eddie into the suit even though you were sure that he wouldn’t have minded and the fact that you had seen all of him only hours before. But this was a professional setting and you both needed to be as such even though it was not professional in the slightest to sleep with people you were working with.

Once Eddie was dressed, you turned back around and your eyes lit up. You were convinced that he was able to pull off anything and it was almost unfair. The suit fit like a glove, almost as if he was made for him. It looked so good and you were eager to see what it looked like with the hair and makeup that had yet to be done.

You headed back to the shoot area and waited for Eddie to be ready. Over time, your anger at each other had dissipated and your attraction had only grown. There was something about seeing him in the stuff that you designed made you wet.

He emerged from hair and makeup and you were sure that your underwear couldn’t get any more damp. His hair was teased in a messy look and black eyeshadow was packed into his eyelids with eyeliner lining his waterline.

He moved to the backdrop and Wren headed over to the camera to get things started. Watching Eddie pose, it was clear why he had become such a big name in the industry. He was a natural and it was obvious that the camera loved him.

And he was so complimentary, letting you know exactly how much he loved every single article of clothing. You didn’t even care if he was just trying to flatter you, you were so close to letting him take everything home. It had been collecting dust in your closet anyway.

No wonder everyone was so impressed by him. Maybe the rumors were all untrue. Sure, he had been late, but he had more than made up for it for his behavior. He was so nice to everyone working on the shoot, thanking them for their work and making them laugh.

After a long day and multiple outfits later, the shoot was over and you and Eddie gushed over the photos. His hand rested on your back as he whispered in your ear, being nothing but sweet, telling how much he liked the outfits. So, that was how he ended up taking them all home, promising to wear them any chance he got.

So, the two of you left the building hand in hand, feeling good with the results of the shoot and you lingered at his car, neither one of you wanting to be the one to say goodbye first. You couldn’t. Not when he looked so fucking hot in his makeup, the red lipstick and gloss making his lips so much more inviting. Not when he had a perfectly good backseat that both of you could fit in.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pressed your lips to his roughly, Eddie taking no time to respond to it, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulders while the other rested against your back. You were both so desperate for each other, wanting to take whatever you could. Your hands went to his jaw, moving his head so you could have more access to his mouth as you licked into it.

He pushed you against the car and brought your tongue between his lips and gave it a suck which caused you to let out a whimper which caused a tent to form in his pants. He had wanted to hear that sound since you had made it the night before, the exact noise had been ringing in his ears ever since.

Eddie gave your tongue one more suck which elicited a moan from you, causing him to pull away before opening the door to the backseat. You nodded and slid across the seat, him following you before slamming the door closed. You both kicked off your socks and shoes and Eddie unbuttoned your shirt as he laid you down in the backseat.

“No bra, hm? How scandalous.”

“Left it at your place remember?” He did remember. The lacy thing was still on the floor of his room. “It doesn’t matter, though anyway. It’ll just slow it down.”His lips immediately went to your chest as he gave your tits some love, licking and sucking your nipples, just as he did the night before.

“God, I love your tits,” he said, his breathing labored and his voice raspy. He was so hot that it was almost unfair. He mouth was on your nipple again as he licked and sucked again, warming you up before he brought the thing between his teeth giving it a pull.

“Oh, my god,” you moaned and he bit down harder, loving to hear the sounds that escaped your lips. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing.”

“I remember what you like,” he winked and move onto your other nipple, pulling it between his teeth and biting down the hardest that he could without actually hurting you. He kissed his way down to your stomach and you thought he was going to pull off your pants, but he didn’t. He just moved his way back before attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

He licked into your mouth and you wrapped your mouth around it, giving it a suck. He whimpered at the sensation then quickly pulled away, giving you a glare.

“Hey,” he whined. “That’s my move.”

“You’re just mad that I do it better than you.” You did, you really did. He’d let you steal his moves any time.

“Oh, honey, you do everything better than me,” he winked and pulled off his shirt before pressing his lips to yours again, softer this time.

He put his full weight on top of you, his hands grabbing onto yours, intertwining your fingers together. His lips were so soft despite them being chapped and they tasted just as good as they did the night before with the mixture of tobacco and mint. How that combination tasted so good, you had no idea.

Eddie kissed you until you both were breathless and his lips moved down to your neck and he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the skin before giving it a gentle suck, just light enough for you to let out a gasp. Eddie then sucked a little harder and you moaned, maybe a little too loudly, but he was eating it up.

He loved your moans. They were always an indicator that he was doing things right. He has slept with more women he could count, but none of them had ever been as enthusiastic as you had, not even with making out with him. They were all just eager for his dick, but he had admired that you were different from them.

His teeth grazed the sensitive spot and you moaned even louder, his dick getting even harder at the sound. You felt it against you and your pussy got even more wet at the thought of him getting inside you, but you didn’t have it in you at the moment.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned and he took that as an invitation to continue, letting his teeth slide against the sensitive spot even harder. “So good.”

He gave the spot another suck, this one, the hardest hi could manage and your hands moved to his back, digging your fingers into the skin. As he licked and sucked, you continued to moan, eventually scratching up and down his back and he was loving it.

Once he felt like he marked you up enough, he pulled you into another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than all of the others. His lips moved against yours, as if he had all the time in the word as his head moved this way and that, wanting to reach every part of your lips that he could.

Eddie then pulled away, the two of you breathing heavily and looked down at you, still loving the way you looked with his lipstick smeared all over you. He’d definitely have to do that more often. That was, if you’d give him another chance. Maybe he’d take you on a date. And maybe if that date went well, he’d be able to call you his girlfriend. He would’ve liked that. He would have liked that a lot.

He laid his head on your chest and your hands moved up to his hair, scratching his head. Maybe if you had played your card right, he’d give you another chance. Maybe he’d take you on a date. And maybe if that date went well, you’d be able to call him your boyfriend. You would’ve liked that. You would have liked that a lot.

[hairmetal666]

Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.

The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.

And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.

They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."

"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.

With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.

He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.

Instead.

Instead it's easy.

Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.

They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.

But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.

They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.

The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.

It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.

A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.

The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"

"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."

Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.

"Okay," Eddie says.

"Okay."

Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.

He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.

They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.

It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.

As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--

All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.

They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.

It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.

The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.

Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.

He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.

Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.

"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.

"I've been insane about you since the trade."

Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."

It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"

He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."

"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."

[hawkinsbnbg]

Rockstar Eddie who was obsessed with model Steve and collected every issue that had Steve on the cover.

He had disdained the Harrington’s little prince at first until he hate-watched every interview of the so-called talentless nepo baby and realized that yeah, he was so fucked.

Meanwhile, Steve had no interest in the metal scene, much less a random rock band named Corroded Coffin.

But Nancy said the paycheck was good and Robin had guaranteed that the band’s frontman was definitely his type, so featuring in their MV wouldn't do him any harm.

That was why Steve was here, fishnets and leather shorts, high heels and handcuffs, straddling Eddie Munson who was devouring him with those dark wild eyes.

They were shooting a scene where the two of them met in a strip club with Eddie being a heartbroken man and Steve being the stripper.

To say Eddie was his type was still an understatement. The man was literally his teenage wet dream with those tattoos and sharp handsome features.

Steve had to restrain himself from doing anything unprofessional like catch those plump lips in a heated kiss and said fuck the consequences.

He could barely focus on the camera as he rode the toned thigh while those large hands roamed his bare skin and kneaded his cheek through the leather.

"Been a fan of your work, sweetheart," hot lips trailed down his neck in open-mouth kisses.

"Need me to sign anything?" Steve twirled a curl with his finger.

"Yeah," Eddie smiled playfully and winked at him. "Even better if you use those lipsticks of yours."

Steve would've kissed him right then and there had the director not yelled, "And... Cut!"

And their bubble burst just like that.

Before he could get up from Eddie's lap with disappointment, he was hoisted in a pair of strong arms, steady hands braced under his thighs like he weighed nothing.

And god was it hot to wrap his legs around Eddie's waist and let himself be carried back to his trailer, ignoring everyone besides winking at Nancy’s exasperated eye roll, Robin’s dorky thumbs up, and that pretty blonde Chrissy’s impish smile.

Because hell yeah, Steve was the one scoring a fun night with the Eddie Munson here. Keep talking and looking bitches.

"Wait, what about the MV?" He asked as Eddie settled them both on his couch.

"Don't worry," Eddie pecked his chin softly. "The strip club is our part for the day. We'll only have one scene left tomorrow."

"So what are we gonna do now, Mr. Rockstar?" Steve raised his eyebrow, drawing lazy circles on Eddie’s chest.

"Whatever you desire, sweetheart," Eddie grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss on its back.

And well, Steve would be ashamed if he passed on such a golden opportunity.

So he hooked his arms behind Eddie’s neck and leaned in to whisper against those plump lips.

"Then ruin me, hot stuff."

When the MV was out, it caused a crash on YouTube and was flooded with countless comments about Steddie—the internet’s ship name for a certain rockstar and a certain model who had been together for months and blissfully lost in their honeymoon phase without a care for the world.

Their names were top trending on Twitter and the MV had become a hit thanks to their through-the-roof chemistry.

When they eventually announced their marriage to the world, they received well wishes from their fans, friends, and family.

And a few years down the road, everyone would know about them as that one happily and disgustingly in-love couple.

Til the rest of their lives.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Eddie's porn stash is a pretty conventional one. An 'if you've seen one stash you've seen them all' type. It basically only consists of skin mags, some of them kinky but most of them vanilla. Normal stuff.

The oddest thing in it is a two-year-old calendar. You know those sexy firefighter calendars? Usually a charity thing? A hit with the housewife crowd? Yeah. Except this calendar decided to branch out and include a bunch of sexy men from a bunch of sexy professions.

So, in this thing, joining the sexy firefighter is a sexy doctor, a sexy construction worker, a sexy police officer (whose month Eddie tore out and burned because fuck cops but don't ever fuck cops), a sexy librarian, and so on. They're all really good-looking, but none of them hold a candle to the paramedic.

It's weird. Paramedics aren't normally part of the traditionally sexy professions. It's messy and sometimes tragic, but lacks the high-paying glamour that doctors and nurses enjoy. Eddie's had his fair share of fantasies, and none of them involved fucking a paramedic.

Until two years ago.

The guy in the calendar simply is that hot.

There's not even anything risqué about his picture. None of the pictures go beyond "this dude is chiseled and shirtless", because veering even slightly past the softest softcore territory would scare off the little housewives or something.

(Eddie is actually pretty fucking sure it'd increase the sales, but hey, what does he know.)

The point is, there's nothing that obscene about the pic. Just a guy kneeling in the back of an ambulance, first aid equipment scattered between his powerful thighs, shirt open to reveal his sculpted torso…

Dark hair spanning across his pecs, over his abs, vanishing down his tight tight tight pants. Hips canting upward, bringing attention to the size of his bulge beneath the zipper. Broad shoulders, ripped arms and large hands, veins protruding across the back. A pretty yet masculine face, with a strong jaw and a straight nose, full lips, a smattering of moles going down his biteable neck. Voluminous, golden brown hair swooped away from his twinkling eyes.

He's got this look in them, this slant to his mouth. Like he knows he's the hottest guy in the calendar.

The one month everyone will go crazy for.

Eddie has become intimately familiar with that look. No joke, in two years it's made him crack his marbles more than anyone else has done in his quarter-century lifetime. When all else fails, November-paramedic has his back. It's basically his longest relationship to date, which sounds a lot sadder out loud (and it sounded fucking sad inside his head, too).

You might wonder why any of that is relevant now, as he sits on the curb outside of The Behemoth with blood trickling from his temple, his band giving their statements to one cop while another hauls away the snarling douchebag that clipped him. How does it play a part in this god-awful night out, you ask?

Well.

"Sir?"

Eddie startles, too caught up in the thudding inside his head, made worse by the buzzing crowd, to notice the man approaching him. He looks up, his gaze gliding past uniformed legs, muscular forearms, a curved neck and honeyed eyes appraising Eddie, and oh.

Oh God.

Eddie's breath sticks in his chest and his tongue becomes a cognate to sandpaper, because it's the paramedic.

It's the paramedic. From the calendar.

He's hallucinating. He has to be. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and now he's having one last weird sex dream before his brain finishes seeping out and he fucking dies.

November-paramedic crouches in front of him. Eddie continues to gape like he's getting ready to catch the peanuts no one is tossing at him.

"My name is Steve. I'm with the ambulance," November-paramedic says. "What's your name?"

Eddie makes a noise incomprehensible to most Earth cultures before his brain registers the meaning of the question and stutters out the answer.

"I- Uh- E-Eddie. It's, it's Eddie."

November-paramedic – Steve – smiles kindly. Heat prickles across Eddie's cheeks and neck. It's not the same as the cocky, sexy smile he's got in the calendar, but still. He's smiling. At Eddie!

"Hi, Eddie." He nods toward Eddie's temple. "That's an impressive cut you got there. May I take a look at it?"

"Yeah? Yeah. Um, g-go ahead."

As Steve sets down his bag and rummages through it, Eddie scours his face to confirm that it really is the guy from the calendar. To his chagrin, it is. There's no mistaking it. Those eyes, like liquid gold. That jawline, a weapon in its own right. Those moles, applied so skillfully it must've been by an artist's hand. That hair, coming straight out of a commercial for luxury shampoo. It's lying flatter than in the calendar, either lacking product or having sweated it out, but it's still glorious.

Steve, having finished washing his hands, tugs on a pair of disposable gloves. The plastic snaps against his wrist, sending a shiver through Eddie. It centers between his legs. Shit, if he pops a boner now…

"I'm going to ask you some questions, okay?" Steve says while pressing a square piece of gauze against the cut. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Eh, Thursday?"

"Do you know where you are?"

"The Behemoth."

Steve nods and, with a lopsided smile, asks, "And are you a patron or did you and your head injury just wander onto the scene?"

Eddie laughs. Loud, merry, and verging on too long. It wasn't even that funny. Steve seems pleased his joke was a success, though. Unless his smile is the uncomfortable kind that one wears when faced with the unhinged. Eddie isn't sure how much blood he's lost.

"No, I, like, my band…" he says, stammering like talking isn't what he does best. Jesus Christ, it's just a hot guy! Eddie has made a fool of himself in front of those plenty of times – no need to get flustered about it. He clears his throat. "We had a gig and, after, at the bar, some guys got into a fight. Got ugly, so we tried to leave, but… alas!" He makes a dramatic sweep of his arm, nearly clocking Steve. Steve expertly ducks away without lessening the pressure on the wound. Eddie soldiers on, not daring to pause lest he lose his steam. Hopefully his burning face is enough of an apology. "Fucker wasn't even aiming for me. He missed his intended target and struck me instead."

"Right. Did you lose consciousness after he hit you?"

"Nope."

"Good. Did you drink tonight?"

"Half a beer, at most."

"Do-"

"Eddie!"

Gareth's nasally voice cuts off Steve's question. The next second, he's materialized beside them with a slightly alarmed expression. "Dude, are you…!"

He trails off, eyes growing into dinner plates. There isn't that much blood, is there?

Steve looks Gareth up and down, a crease between his brows. "Is this your friend?"

"My drummer. Gareth."

Eddie half-expects Steve to demand Gareth leaves so he can do his job in peace, but nope. That kind, calm smile is back. He even gives him one of those little upward-nods 'cool guys' like to do.

"What's up, Gareth? I'm Steve; I'm with the ambulance. Just making sure Eddie won't keel over later tonight."

"Uh huh…" Gareth kneels opposite Steve. He's smiling too, but his is shit eating. Eddie frowns in confusion, because what does Gareth have to be happy about? He was freaking out right after Eddie got hit, but now he's staring at Steve like-

Oh.

He's staring at Steve.

No. Noooooooooo! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh why, why has he kept his porn stash in a drawer without a lock all these years?! He can't recollect the reason Gareth opened that particular drawer on that particular day – all Eddie remembers is how Gareth, Jeff, and Marv snickered when he explained the inclusion of the calendar.

That was it, though. They moved on. Sure, there has been the occasional roasting after the fact, but it's not like he hasn't also mocked them for their weird shit. But that's not the point. The point is that Gareth is staring at Steve like he recognizes him.

Gareth's attention flicks toward Eddie. Eddie shakes his head as subtly yet pleadingly as he can. Gareth's grin gobbles down another turd. Eddie makes a valiant effort to explode Gareth's eyeballs with his mind.

"Say…" Gareth turns to Steve. "Have we met?"

"I don't think so. Eddie, do you have a headache?"

"Yeah, man," Eddie says, voice trembling. "Hurts like hell."

"I could've sworn I've seen your face before," Gareth says. "Like, I'm 100% sure."

"Are you dizzy or nauseous?" Steve asks, ignoring Gareth.

"Um, a little dizzy but no nausea?"

"Hmm, okay. Blurred vision or uneven numbness?"

"No."

Steve nods, glancing at his watch. Then, to Eddie’s dismay, he looks at Gareth. "I've never been to this bar before."

"Nono, not here. Somewhere else…"

Steve's lips purse and his brows knit into the most adorable thinking-face Eddie has ever seen. His heart skips a beat, then skips two more as Steve's free hand gently cups Eddie's cheek. The skin catches fire where Steve's gloved fingertips touch it.

"Let me have a look at your pupils…" Steve says, guiding Eddie's face and, holy shit, leaning in close for a better look.

Eddie gulps, half his blood rushing up and the other half down; he squeezes his legs together to prevent the little guy from saying 'hello' to everyone present. His eyes rove over Steve's face. His lips are chapped and the skin on his nose is dry. The nose itself is somewhat crooked. Did he get into a fight between the calendar photoshoot and now, or did they make the nose straighter for the photo? Why would anyone think it necessary to edit a face like this one? Even with its imperfections mere inches away, it's still the handsomest Eddie has seen.

Steve hums. It's a perfectly preserved vinyl. It's a metal festival. It's Eddie's new favorite song.

"Same size but pretty dilated… Keep your eyes open, please." He shines a tiny flashlight into Eddie's eyes before nodding, satisfied. "All right, looks good."

He leans back out of Eddie's space, returning Eddie's ability to breathe, and removes the gauze. His smile tells Eddie that the bleeding has stopped. As great as it is that he won't hemorrhage to death, it also means their encounter is approaching its end.

"You might've seen me at the university campus?" Steve says, fiddling with some plasters; it takes Eddie's horny brain five full seconds to deduce he's talking to Gareth again.

"No-" Gareth freezes, mouth hanging open. His smugness has evaporated. "Actually, I might have? You're a student?"

Steve chuckles as he patches the last of Eddie's cut. "No, but my friends are. None of them own a car, so I end up driving them everywhere. Right, Eddie, I think you're good to recover at home. Unless you feel like you should head to the hospital?"

Great question! Does he? On the one hand: riding in the ambulance with Steve, ensuring a few additional minutes of his lustrous eyes and smooth voice.

On the other hand: hospital bills.

"… no."

"Okay. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I live alone."

"Then maybe Gareth could hang around for the next 48 hours?"

"Sure can," Gareth says without hesitating. Eddie's heart swells with affection for him, despite his (failed! Hah!) plot to mortify Eddie to death.

Steve is already packing his medical bag.

"I want you to rest and avoid stressful situations," he tells Eddie. "No alcohol, no recreational drugs, no driving, and no working until you feel completely recovered. You may take tylenol, but not aspirin or ibuprofen. And if your symptoms worsen or you develop new ones – seek medical attention. Got it?"

The last part is sterner, reminding Eddie of every male authority figure he's strived to disobey during his teenage years. He has no such desire this time.

"Got it."

Steve raises his eyebrows as if to say 'have you really?', and Eddie has to wonder if it's he who seems contrariant and/or stupid enough to ignore the medic or if this is something Steve does with every patient. If it's the former, he mustn't seem that contrariant, because Steve's features soften into trust. He stands, brushing dust off his knees.

"Great. You boys take care now. Have a nice night."

"Yeah, you too, man," Eddie calls after him weakly as he retreats to the blinking ambulance. "Thanks…"

He keeps his gaze on the broad expanse of Steve's back, soaking in the rippling of his muscles as he walks and, oh would you look at that, his ass is as nice as the rest of him. Eddie's been wondering for two years now…

"Dude!"

Eddie jerks toward Gareth. Did he say that out loud? Did he drool? Is his boner showing? But no, Gareth isn't disgusted or disturbed – he's excited.

Shit.

He'll never hear the end of this.

"Don't!" he hisses.

Gareth just laughs, eyes twinkling.

"That was-"

"Don't!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Gareth-"

"You are so red right now!"

"For Jesus fucking Christ's fucking sake-"

------------------------------

Dedicated to @rougenancy for always listening to and encouraging my various thoughts, opinions, and ideas (they are constant).

Part 2

AO3

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

something something rockstar!eddie munson au album photoshoot with steve on the cover

[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.

[ladykailitha]

Sun-kissed and Moon-glow

My fics have been fighting me this last week, so have some softness I've been thinking about the last couple of days. This came from that post that has been going around about x overhearing y say good things about them.

*

Eddie didn't mean to eavesdrop, his interview finished before Steve finished his. Eddie loved his model boyfriend. He was gorgeous and looked amazing on his own or on Eddie's arm.

He moved to sneak up on Steve to hug him from behind, but he stopped when he realized his interview wasn't over with.

"Are you familiar with the trope 'the grumpy one is in love with the sunshine one'?" the interviewer asked. She was a pretty thing with long bleach blonde hair, tan skin, and a slinky pink satin dress.

"Oh yeah, it's one of my favorite tropes," Steve agreed. "Morpheus and Hob, Mulder and Scully, Nico and Will, Watson and Holmes."

She smiled at him. "Would you say that it also describes you and your boyfriend Eddie Munson?"

Steve laughed. "I'm assuming you think he's the grumpy one and I'm the sunshine one?"

"Exactly!" she said with a laugh.

"The trope works," Steve agreed. "But not in the way you think. If it was purely aesthetic, I would be the sunshine one and Eddie would be grumpy one, no doubt. But based on our actual personalities? He is so the sunshine one."

"Aww..." she cooed. But it was clear even to Eddie that she was only saying that to placate Steve.

"No I mean it," Steve said, catching her tone. "I'm only glitter and glow. I take my light from other people. The clothes I wear, the way I style my hair, my modeling. I'm definitely the moon and the stars. But I look warm and my skin is tan because his love for me shines every day. I glow because he is my sun."

The interviewer's jaw dropped. "Wow."

"He is so good and so bright and so happy all the time," Steve continued. "He lights up whatever room he walks into. That's what makes him a good performer. He shines on stage. He looks like a creature of the night, because he's moon kissed. Because I love him, I'm the moon to his sun."

"Does that make you sun-kissed then?" the interviewer asked.

Steve laughed. "Yeah, I guess it does."

There was a tap on Steve's shoulder and he was being told to move on. He said goodbye to the interviewer and turned around, spotting Eddie.

"There you are, sunshine," he greeted warmly.

Eddie reached out his hand to Steve who took it with a fond smile. And as they walked down the red carpet, Eddie thought. Before tonight he would have agreed with the interviewer. He was the moon to Steve's sun. But hearing Steve's explanation, it made more sense.

It also gave him an idea for the band's next album. A double album called Sun-kissed and Moon-glow. Steve on the cover of Sun-kissed, bathed in the light of Eddie's love, his skin starting to glow yellow from the kiss Eddie is pressing to his shoulder.

Moon-glow would be the reverse. Eddie golden but bathed in Steve's moonlight, skin turning alabaster from Steve's kiss.

He looked over at Steve one more time. The boys were going to love the idea. Almost as much as he loved this man at his side.

*

Tagging this because it's long enough I think.

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[navnae]

Rockstar Eddie and super model Steve ruling the world just makes so much sense. Steve appearing in all of Eddie’s music videos and Eddie supporting Steve while he walks the runway. It’s safe to say that they brag about each other all the time in the press, they remind people constantly that they pulled the baddest bitch in the industry. They’d be reckless and messy when it comes to shading anybody who wants to talk shit about them, I’m dying just thinking about it 🤭

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

one in a million

rockstar!eddie x famous!reader

I’d like to dedicate this song to my woman, Zeppelin Rose. I’m sorry baby. 

coming soon...

[itswhatyougive]

I'm just gonna say it- Mike and Will would've been internally going insane if they were in Hawkins to see Steve and Eddie interact.

Both watching what was happening and gaydar going off the charts, but each thinking they had absolutely NO ONE they could talk to about it

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Fancy

[hardboiledleggs]

You Looking at Me Looking at You ~ Steddie Week Day 6 @steddie-week

Acrid smoke belched from beneath the hood of his dingy van. Eddie sighed as he slammed his fists against the steering wheel and snatched his bag from the passenger’s seat with a groan. Just his luck.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled across the parking lot, eyes squinted against a bitter wind that was howling across the campus. This was the third time this month that the van had quit on him on his way to class, and he was fresh out of extra cash to pay for even a bus ticket, let alone a tow truck.

Eddie had just finished weighing the merits of walking home versus calling his Uncle Wayne, who lived in a trailer an hour away from campus, when he reached the squat building housing his favorite class, Intermediate Painting. He swung the door wide, breathing in the smell of canvas and turpentine, and stepped around the many easels scattered across the floor until he reached his favorite corner. Robin was already there, fiddling with her supplies, and her face broke into a toothy grin when she saw Eddie.

“Hiya, Munson! I was wondering if you were ever gonna get here. You’re usually so early, is something wrong?” she chirped as she busied herself with arranging her brushes.

Eddie flopped onto his stool with a huff. “It’s my stupid van. Fuckin�� blew another gasket or some shit. I thought it was gonna explode before I made it into the parking lot.”

She winced in sympathy. “That’s too bad, Eds. You can’t ask Wayne for any extra cash to maybe replace the engine or something?”

“No, no, I-I mean, I don’t want to bother him with something like this. He’s got a lot on his plate, and I’m an adult. I’m supposed to be figuring this stuff out on my own.”

“If you’re sure. Hey, you can always crash at my dorm tonight if you can figure out a way to sneak past Wheeler. She’s been taking her RA duties veeery seriously lately,” Robin rolled her eyes as she said this. “Apparently, Carol from 306 got busted when she went home for Thanksgiving. They went into her room for maintenance and it turns out she had snuck her boyfriend in and he was living there. Wheeler was pissed it happened under her nose.”

Eddie snorted. “Carol Perkins? From our English 101 class first semester? That doesn’t surprise me at all. Remember when she came in late for the exam covered in hickeys? She clearly doesn’t know how to be subtle.”

He grinned and began to sort through his own supplies as Robin cackled. Today was supposed to be a live model study, and he had been struggling with the assignments set to them regarding the human form so far. Eddie had been practicing sketching strangers in the park and at coffee shops, but Professor Bauman had insisted that he had yet to “capture the innate sexuality of the bare human form,” whatever that meant. He was determined to get it right today.

At that moment, Professor Bauman swept into the room, wearing a bright pink smock smattered with paint. He clapped his hands together, silencing the muted chatter in the room.

“Children, children! We have precious little time today for our artistry, so PLEASE let’s get started. I want you to focus on the proportions of your sketch today, making sure that we’re being as accurate as possible before any paint blesses the surface of your canvas.” He leveled a pointed look at Robin, who flushed and picked at a hole in the knee of her jeans. “If everyone is ready, I’ll go and grab our model for today.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at Robin. “Eat it, Birdie. You aren’t the favorite anymore.”

“Oh, please. You know he lets me call him Murray during office hours.”

“Ask him to boost my grade next time you’re in there, will you? Make yourself useful for once.”

Their squabbling was cut short as Bauman’s office door swung open and out stepped Adonis. Okay, it wasn’t really Adonis, but to Eddie, the model may as well have been the stunning Grecian figure. He was stark naked, of course, which allowed Eddie to see the moles that dotted his gleaming skin like dark constellations. His bronze hair was swept artfully off his forehead, almost gravity-defying in its levity. He was toned, but not overly muscular, and his chest was covered in a dense thicket of hair that Eddie wanted to press his face against. Eddie desperately worked to keep his eyes level with the model’s collarbone and not stray any farther down.

“Hi, everyone, I’m Steve. I’m just going to be doing one pose today, so I’ll be taking quick breaks to stretch every 30 minutes or so.” Steve had a nice voice, calm and alluring. “Feel free to come closer if you need a more detailed look at anything for your sketch, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

He smiled at the class, showing off a row of even white teeth. Professor Bauman shook Steve’s hand firmly and waved him toward the low table in the center of the room.

“Remember, let your hands be your brushes. Let the colors move through you and allow them to direct your movements. You have two hours. Begin, please!”

At that moment, Robin elbowed Eddie sharply in the ribs, forcing a hacking cough from his lungs as he took his first breath in what felt like hours.

“Jesus, Munson. Subtlety isn’t your strong suit either,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth.

Eddie spared her a glance of disdain before watching Steve lower himself onto the table, folding his arms underneath his head and bending one leg so his knee pointed skyward in a pose that showed off just how muscular his thighs were. Shaking himself, Eddie sorted through his pencils with a shaking hand until he found one light enough to begin his sketch with.

The next half hour was torturous. Eddie really did try for professionalism, carefully outlining Steve’s frame and sketching out the proportions for his hands, but every time the model shifted to grab a drink of water or stretch out his limbs, Eddie’s eyes drifted downward and he became so flustered his pencil would slip and mar his careful marks.

At the hour mark, Professor Bauman began to walk around the room to begin his critiques. He had this way of leaning into his students’ space and artfully picking apart their work that was equal parts impressive and unnerving. At Robin’s canvas, he paused for about a minute before remarking “Don’t be afraid to get up close and give the appropriate detail to the more intimate parts of our friend Steve,” which made Robin blush.

His gaze slide to Eddie’s work, and he broke into a pleased smile.

“Yes, Munson! This is what I have been looking for from you! Do you see how you’ve used the light in the room to bring the focus of your sketch to his face? And his expression, my God, so simultaneously haunting and sensual! Excellent work, keep it up!”

Bauman swept away in a dramatic fashion, leaving Eddie to bury his face in his hands. The word ‘sensual’ echoed around his skull. He wondered if Steve had been listening to that particular bit of the professor’s speech and internally debated whether it would be more embarrassing to leave now or possibly be stuck walking to the parking lot at the same time as the model.

Robin snorted, catching Eddie’s eye and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as he glowered at her. Leave it to Buckley to revel in his extreme embarrassment.

The class continued to sketch silently, save for the shuffling of supplies or a muffled curse when someone smudged their careful pencil lines. Eddie had almost completed his initial portrait when he got to the hands and frowned. Hands had never been his strong suit; they were always proportioned differently on each person, and there were too many knuckles and creases to ever look natural.

Sighing, he gathered some scrap paper and a pencil and shoved his stool back from his easel. He shuffled into the center of the room to Steve’s side, trying and failing to keep his eyes on the more appropriate parts of the model. Steve’s eyes flitted to his own, and he grinned up at Eddie, though he kept his body completely still.

“Need to see anything specific?” he asked quietly.

Eddie flushed beet-red. “Uh, your hands?” he asked, cringing internally at his indecisive tone.

Steve lifted one hand and placed it in Eddie’s palm. “Do your worst, Munson,” he said with a wink. “That is your name, right?”

His fingers were warm and solid against Eddie’s, and each nail was painted a different color, though most of the paint was chipping. Up this close, Eddie could smell a faint hint of something floral: Steve’s shampoo, maybe? He clutched Steve’s fingers and sat on the small stool next to the table, searching for his usual confidence.

“That’s my name, feel free to wear it out.”

A hastily-stifled laugh shook Steve’s chest, and he glared at Eddie in mock anger as Eddie’s ego preened under the positive attention.

“I really need this paycheck, dude, don’t screw this up for me. I can’t go back to scooping ice cream at the mall,” he whined.

Eddie smiled as he held Steve’s hand up, carefully bending and straightening each knuckle as he sketched.

“Sorry, big boy. I can’t just turn off my irresistible charm all willy-nilly. What if a handsome man walks in here and starts flirting with me? I have to be prepared for every possibility.”

“I thought a handsome man was already flirting with you,” Steve shot back, a glint in his warm brown eyes.

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, but he recovered quickly, glancing around the room in exaggerated confusion.

“Really? Where is he?”

Steve yanked his hand away, still grinning. “You wound me, Munson. I thought I had a sensual form? Maybe I’ll just take my talents elsewhere.”

Eddie finished his sketch with a flourish and stood, shrugging at the model still lying flat on the table in front of him.

“I suppose you can do that, but good luck finding another cute guy to flirt with in here,” he drawled.

“There’s always Professor Bauman,” Steve snarked, and Eddie snorted as he backed toward his easel.

As soon as he had flopped back into his seat and his face was hidden from Steve, Eddie spun to face Robin. She was already looking at him with a knowing expression on her face, one eyebrow lifted in an unspoken question.

“He’s so hot, Birdie. And funny. I’m going to die!” Eddie hissed at her, and she rolled her eyes at him fondly as she took in the panicked expression on his face.

“Just so you know, Mr. Hot-and-Funny watched your ass the entire walk back to your seat. Good thing you wore your tight jeans today,” Robin smirked.

Eddie flipped her off and schooled his face into a neutral expression. He refused to give her the satisfaction of flustering him.

When the professor told them to pack up for the day, Steve stretched languidly like a cat and loped into Bauman’s office. Eddie gazed after him dazedly, watching as his muscular thighs flexed and his ass bounced with every step. He would’ve been more embarrassed if there weren’t at least five other students doing the exact same thing.

Robin stood and sighed. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she tugged at a lock of Eddie’s hair.

“You sure you’ll be able to get home okay? I bet we could sneak you past Wheeler if we tried.” The genuine concern in her voice almost melted his resolve, but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about me, Buckley. I have enough duct tape to hold the old gal together for another few miles at least.” Her frown deepened, and he hastily added, “Besides, I don’t think Tammy likes me very much. The last time I was over I broke one of her mugs and she called me an ‘inbred hick’ or something charming like that. I still can’t believe you ever had a thing for her.”

Robin shook her head ruefully. “Alright, asshat. I’ll see you next week then. Call me when you get home so I know you lived.”

She left, barely catching the toe of her sneaker on the doorjamb and stumbling into the hall as she went. Eddie listened to her muffled curses as she tripped down the hall on the walk back to her dorm and grinned to himself.

He packed up his supplies carefully. This professional shit hadn’t been cheap, and he definitely couldn’t afford to replace his oil pencils if he ruined them. As he was stacking his canvas carefully in the back with the others, the door to the professor’s office opened and Steve stepped out, dressed now in simple blue jeans and a bright yellow sweater. He was frowning slightly and fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, but he straightened up and his face brightened when he spotted Eddie still lingering in the classroom.

“Hey, Munson! I was hoping I could catch you before you left,” he called as he hurried to Eddie’s side. “How did your piece turn out?”

“Not bad,” Eddie smiled. “Helped that the subject was cute, you know. I do my best work when I’m staring at hot people.”

Steve threw his head back in a genuine laugh as they began the walk through campus. His strides were much longer than Eddie’s, despite their similar heights, and Eddie found himself rushing a bit to keep up.

“So, are you majoring in Art?” Steve asked, his casual tone at odds with the searching intensity in his eyes.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I want to do tattoos for a living like my mom, so… art degree! College isn’t really my thing but I knew my uncle would get a real kick out of raising a college grad. I used to, you know, deal in high school, so he just about explodes with pride whenever he can tell somebody I’m a sophomore in college.” Eddie grinned ruefully at Steve. “Of course, the dealing is what made it possible to pay for these first couple of years, but there’s a mutual understanding to ignore that part of our finances.”

That drew out another laugh from Steve. Eddie felt the laugh settle somewhere in his chest, warming him from the inside despite the biting wind.

“So, what do you usually get up to after class?” Steve questioned. He was still picking at the loose threads on the ends of his sleeves like he was nervous, although he seemed perfectly comfortable walking with Eddie.

“Well, today I will be begging my uncle to come up and drive me home, probably. My van quit on me again this morning,” Eddie sighed as he scuffed his shoe along the edge of the sidewalk. He knew Wayne wouldn’t mind, but he felt horrible for interrupting his uncle’s sleep schedule because he couldn’t take care of his own vehicle.

“Damn. If only there was a cute guy around who would definitely drive you home if you asked nicely.” Steve snapped his fingers in an ‘aw shucks’ motion and sighed. “If only he had a really nice car and absolutely nothing to do tonight and is desperately trying to figure out a way to spend more time with you.”

Eddie’s heart leaped into his throat. Blush saturated his cheeks, staining them with pink, and he turned to look Steve in the eye.

“You better not be fucking with me, okay? You’re fun and I like you, so if you drive me home, it better not be the last time I see you.”

Steve gave him a long and searching look before grabbing Eddie’s hand and looping their fingers together.

“Well I, for one, am excited to see your place,” he said softly.

Eddie grinned and allowed himself to be tugged toward the parking lot a little faster than his legs could carry him.

~~~

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[gay-little-bitch]

Model!steve has an anonymous tiktok fan account of rockstar!eddie who also has an anonymous tiktok fan account of Steve. They both followed each other and became friends. Shit gets gay and they fall in love. <3333333 They decide to meet up at a shitty bar in town. They hook up in the bathroom after they find out who each other is cuz why not?

[lokiiied]

“i love the fruity four”

bro which one

[boffeeceans]

Thinking about this little car on Eddie's nightstand, I can't possibly figure out what kind of car it is, not from such a blurry picture and I'm also not a car person... but it's giving me mungrove thoughts, some sad, some not so

[ridestomars]

MY MEMORY HAS JUST BEEN SOLD – E. MUNSON HEADCANONS

𖥻 summary: a few headcanons about this concept about rockstar!eddie. 𖥻 pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x model!reader. 𖥻 warnings: fluffy ig. not proofread.

💭 liv's thoughts: i can't stop thinking about this so i developed the few ideas i had!! totally gonna write more about this later lmao. i hope you like it! oh, i just posted my 900 followers celebration, so feel free to join!

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

🎸ㆍBeing just another girl from the small and narrow-minded town of Hawkins, you were never much ambitious about your own dreams, trying to keep them as down-to-Earth as possible. But now you can't help but be amazed at how far you've come as you stare at the February issue of Sports Illustrated magazine with your picture on the cover. 

🎸ㆍAll the stress you felt while posing in that sparkly and very itchy bikini was worth it, you recognize now. You don't think you've ever looked this good in your entire life, and it was certainly the achievement of all your past daydreams. 

🎸ㆍYou have done a few photoshoots throughout your life, but none felt this real or this big. Those small TV commercials and good-girl ads on the interior pages of Seventeen Magazine had nothing on this. The cover meant you were in the same category as the other recognizable names in the industry, and your agent made sure that your gigs were on that level, too: editorials for Vogue, New York, Milan, and Paris Fashion Week, meetings with Gianni Versace and Todd Oldham. 

🎸ㆍYou were getting big, and your lifestyle grew bigger with you. After establishing yourself in Los Angeles your routine consisted of trips to New York, couture fittings, photoshoots, parties until early in the morning, and repeat. Sleep was important, too, though it was never your top priority. 

🎸ㆍEvery time you were out doing something impressive, like getting your pictures taken by Steven Meisel on top of Brooklyn Bridge, wearing only a Chanel gown and no shoes, a little voice in the back of your mind wondered what your friends back in Hawkins might be thinking of you now. 

🎸ㆍIn all honesty, you were never popular, like Steve Harrington or Cindy Cunningham. You have always kept a girl-next-door profile, being nice to everyone who decided to talk to you, but also preferring the company of your intimate circle of friends and staying in, instead of attending those big High School parties. So, you can only imagine their surprise to find out that the model in one of those magazines is you. If they even care. 

🎸ㆍYou just never expected to be answered by bumping into a very familiar face at the Rainbow, on one of your nights out with your LA friends. Sunset Strip was about a mile long, and yet, you two had met again as you were passing by to get back to your table. 

🎸ㆍ"Hey, hotshot," Eddie Munson greeted you with a playful smile, his big brown eyes drifting down your figure before settling on yours. He hasn't changed at all. Long dry hair, slightly flushed cheeks, and that same mischievous gleam in his eyes. He wore his old jean vest, the one with the metal bands patches. The only thing that was different was his new shiny leather jacket, which glowed under the bar's yellow lights. 

🎸ㆍThen, you go to sit at his table, where the rest of his band was. Corroded Coffin was grabbing headlines everywhere in the country, mainly because of their new approach to Metal, composing elaborate guitar riffs and melodic choruses, making commercial music but with that underground edge. But also because of their Dungeons and Dragons inspired songs, which weren't well received by the older audience and labeled as Satanic. Because of this, their albums all have the increasingly popular 'Parents Advisory' sticker. 

🎸ㆍThey are also known to make Nerd-Metal music, which was a genre specifically created to describe their music. Just one album out and they're already infamous. 

🎸ㆍAs far as you remember, Eddie Munson already had a reputation for himself back at home, but now that he had one hundred percent surrendered to the rockstar lifestyle, his notoriety was unprecedented. He was in every music magazine, every TV channel and everyone seems to know who he is – something that he handles more gracefully than you thought he would. Eddie seems to really like the attention. 

🎸ㆍWell, next thing you know, you're standing at the side stage of Corroded Coffin's gig at The Troubadour, and Eddie merrily walks up to you holding a backstage pass. I believe it's needless to say that this was the first of many passes to come.

🎸ㆍThe beginning of your relationship wasn't easy at all, given your busy schedules. It seemed like whenever you had free time, he had an interview; or when he could spend the entire day at his hotel room, hanging out, you had to leave for another tiring photoshoot. It took a long while until you figured out how to make things work. 

🎸ㆍBut you have to admit that those late-night escapades to his rented room in Chateau Marmont are forever engraved in your mind. Besides the endless partying, there was nothing better than laying on Eddie's side while he lazily played guitar for you, as you shared one of those long lounging chairs by the hotel's poolside. 🎸ㆍHe swears he had never written as many songs as he did when you did that. The thought of you, laying so gracefully on that chair with the sun coming up above you, on the horizon… man, it inspires him to the max. 

🎸ㆍTogether, you started to build the reputation of an it-couple, or whatever those teenage magazines say about you. All you know is that his fans also became your fans, especially the young girls. Suddenly, it was like Corroded Coffin's concert audiences became a sea of mini-yous – wearing clothes reminiscent of your style, haircuts similar to yours, eyeliner just as smokey.

🎸ㆍAppearing on the cover of gossip magazines started to be normal for the two of you. People would start the most outlandish rumors about your relationship, and according to the issues, you got married exactly ten times throughout 1994.

🎸ㆍBut your rising fame as a couple also brought the most recognized campaign of your career so far: the Guess Jeans advertisement you shot walking through West Hollywood, just living another normal day of your lives – well, with constant wardrobe changes. There were a bunch of really good pictures, like the one of you in all-denim at a record store, holding Corroded Coffin's new album; one where Eddie is sitting on top of a random motorcycle (he tried to buy it off the owner on the spot, but the offer was rejected) with his usual jeans and leather jacket combo; and finally, one of you two walking on Hollywood's Walk of Fame. His arm is thrown on top of your shoulders as you hold his hand, and the picture captures your matching boots perfectly. 

🎸ㆍEddie requests for that photo to be printed on a big canvas so that he could hang it up on his living room wall, and it's his main decor item ♡

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