unclejezzzy

[unclejezzzy]

Incase you missed it 👹

Aren't You The Sweetest Thing On This Side of Hell | Part 5 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It's 1990. Following the fire at Club Venus, Eddie is forced to confront his past in order to make his relationship with Steve work.

Eddie's chest ached.

He had been staring at the back of Steve's head for around half an hour, watching him breathe. And his chest ached.

But he was noticing. He noticed the strands of gold in his hair that weaved throughout the layers of chestnut. Never being too loud, never drawing attention to themselves. He noticed the changing hues from the tan of his skin past the neckline of his shirt, and the never before seen moles that dappled along it.

He wondered if he dragged his fingers across them to connect them, they'd show him to some sort of pot of gold.

Eddie used these stolen moments of complete silence like a lifeline. Just watching Steve breathe and sigh, unaware of the world around him in his slumber. It felt like a reward. For what? He didn't know. But he must have done something right along the way to deserve this. Or maybe - it was a blessing for everything wrong that had happened to him.

In the same way that he was noticing, he was starting to panic. This could be his life, now. Exactly as they are now.

And there was that voice. That guy. Hanging off the side of his neck with his canines buried in the flesh, telling him he was no good for it. He was no good for any of it.

He loved his solitude. He loved basking in the aloneness of it all. But he felt as though maybe he could be made for this too, if his self would allow it. He could be a good lover. He wanted to be.

But he wasn't soft like Steve. He wasn't instinctively kind or enthusiastic like Steve. He didn't see the good in people like Steve. But maybe the two of them were the same in a way. They had both been worn away with acts of hatred and violence to become gentle like this with one another.

Steve stirred, taking a sharp intake of breath through his nostrils as Eddie didn't dare move, eyes wide and body frozen in place.

He quickly averted his gaze to the ceiling, arms folded tightly across his chest. He soon realised that it's probably kinda weird to be staring intently at another person the second they wake up.

Steve groaned softly, stretching out his arms underneath his pillow as he acclimatised himself in his consciousness. Eddie peered at him out of the corner of his eye, now affronted with the all encompassing vision before him.

"Hey." Steve smiled, voice strained as he wiped the sleep out from his eyes.

"Hi." Eddie said, biting back a smile that spread far too easily across his lips.

Was it natural for somebody to look this beautiful the second they open their eyes? It wasn't perfect by any means. It wasn't the kinda beauty you see in movies when the actors wake up and somehow their hair and makeup was pristine and they had just the right amount of rouge on their cheeks. That was unrealistic. That glowy, ethereal bullshit.

It was beautiful because it was real. His stubble had darkened ever so slightly, his eyes were puffy and red, lips chapped and eyes watery. Eddie had built dreams around something like this.

"You sleep okay?" Steve asked - scratching his head as he scooped his hair up and out of his face, still laying on his stomach.

"Mhm." Eddie hummed. "You?"

"Yeah, not bad." Steve smiled this giddy, gleaming smile that made Eddie's insides churn.

"Good." Eddie acknowledged quietly.

"Hand?" Steve asked firmly, his pointer finger prodding against the flesh of Eddie's exposed wrist that sat atop his ribcage.

Eddie flexed his fingers beneath the bandage that had loosened in his sleep. His skin tight and tender. "Mm. Lil' sore. But - fine."

"Make sure you change those bandages. Let it breathe a bit before it gets all weepy and gross." Steve spoke sternly as Eddie bungled out a laugh.

"Yes, Doctor Harrington."

"You wish." Steve shot back with a short smirk.

Eddie did wish. But he wasn't going to let the thought of Steve in a full Doctors getup, stethoscope and all, make his already uncomfortable morning situation any more uncomfortable.

"Did I snore - at all? I'm just feeling a little congested. I get allergies in the Summer."

He gets allergies in the Summer. Of course he does. He's fucking perfect.

"Not that I noticed. If you did I slept through it." Eddie shrugged. "Did I?" He asked, a sudden whelm of self consciousness engulfing him.

"No."

"Hm." Eddie resided, nodding to himself. "You did kick me a couple times but it's fine."

"You must have deserved it." Steve snarked with no bite.

"I don't doubt it."

Eddie watched Steve's throat expand and shrink as he swallowed hard. He propped himself up on his elbows, drinking in the morning before he exhaled deeply. He glanced around the room before his gaze fully settled on Eddie again.

"It's nice actually, waking up and you still being here." Steve eventually sighed. "Got worried for a sec that maybe you wouldn't be."

Eddie turned onto his side, cheek nestled against the plush of the pillow so he could really look. "Got worried for a sec that maybe you wouldn't want me to be."

Continue reading on AO3

[unclejezzzy]

Continuing my slutty 80s crop top agenda

[unclejezzzy]

Ponerle caritas a los lunares la rompe

[unclejezzzy]

NANCY WHEELER in STRANGER THINGS (2016-) 1x06 | “The Monster”

[unclejezzzy]

Part 5 is out now! We’re at the final hurdle!!!

Aren't You The Sweetest Thing On This Side of Hell | Part 5 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It's 1990. Following the fire at Club Venus, Eddie is forced to confront his past in order to make his relationship with Steve work.

Eddie's chest ached.

He had been staring at the back of Steve's head for around half an hour, watching him breathe. And his chest ached.

But he was noticing. He noticed the strands of gold in his hair that weaved throughout the layers of chestnut. Never being too loud, never drawing attention to themselves. He noticed the changing hues from the tan of his skin past the neckline of his shirt, and the never before seen moles that dappled along it.

He wondered if he dragged his fingers across them to connect them, they'd show him to some sort of pot of gold.

Eddie used these stolen moments of complete silence like a lifeline. Just watching Steve breathe and sigh, unaware of the world around him in his slumber. It felt like a reward. For what? He didn't know. But he must have done something right along the way to deserve this. Or maybe - it was a blessing for everything wrong that had happened to him.

In the same way that he was noticing, he was starting to panic. This could be his life, now. Exactly as they are now.

And there was that voice. That guy. Hanging off the side of his neck with his canines buried in the flesh, telling him he was no good for it. He was no good for any of it.

He loved his solitude. He loved basking in the aloneness of it all. But he felt as though maybe he could be made for this too, if his self would allow it. He could be a good lover. He wanted to be.

But he wasn't soft like Steve. He wasn't instinctively kind or enthusiastic like Steve. He didn't see the good in people like Steve. But maybe the two of them were the same in a way. They had both been worn away with acts of hatred and violence to become gentle like this with one another.

Steve stirred, taking a sharp intake of breath through his nostrils as Eddie didn't dare move, eyes wide and body frozen in place.

He quickly averted his gaze to the ceiling, arms folded tightly across his chest. He soon realised that it's probably kinda weird to be staring intently at another person the second they wake up.

Steve groaned softly, stretching out his arms underneath his pillow as he acclimatised himself in his consciousness. Eddie peered at him out of the corner of his eye, now affronted with the all encompassing vision before him.

"Hey." Steve smiled, voice strained as he wiped the sleep out from his eyes.

"Hi." Eddie said, biting back a smile that spread far too easily across his lips.

Was it natural for somebody to look this beautiful the second they open their eyes? It wasn't perfect by any means. It wasn't the kinda beauty you see in movies when the actors wake up and somehow their hair and makeup was pristine and they had just the right amount of rouge on their cheeks. That was unrealistic. That glowy, ethereal bullshit.

It was beautiful because it was real. His stubble had darkened ever so slightly, his eyes were puffy and red, lips chapped and eyes watery. Eddie had built dreams around something like this.

"You sleep okay?" Steve asked - scratching his head as he scooped his hair up and out of his face, still laying on his stomach.

"Mhm." Eddie hummed. "You?"

"Yeah, not bad." Steve smiled this giddy, gleaming smile that made Eddie's insides churn.

"Good." Eddie acknowledged quietly.

"Hand?" Steve asked firmly, his pointer finger prodding against the flesh of Eddie's exposed wrist that sat atop his ribcage.

Eddie flexed his fingers beneath the bandage that had loosened in his sleep. His skin tight and tender. "Mm. Lil' sore. But - fine."

"Make sure you change those bandages. Let it breathe a bit before it gets all weepy and gross." Steve spoke sternly as Eddie bungled out a laugh.

"Yes, Doctor Harrington."

"You wish." Steve shot back with a short smirk.

Eddie did wish. But he wasn't going to let the thought of Steve in a full Doctors getup, stethoscope and all, make his already uncomfortable morning situation any more uncomfortable.

"Did I snore - at all? I'm just feeling a little congested. I get allergies in the Summer."

He gets allergies in the Summer. Of course he does. He's fucking perfect.

"Not that I noticed. If you did I slept through it." Eddie shrugged. "Did I?" He asked, a sudden whelm of self consciousness engulfing him.

"No."

"Hm." Eddie resided, nodding to himself. "You did kick me a couple times but it's fine."

"You must have deserved it." Steve snarked with no bite.

"I don't doubt it."

Eddie watched Steve's throat expand and shrink as he swallowed hard. He propped himself up on his elbows, drinking in the morning before he exhaled deeply. He glanced around the room before his gaze fully settled on Eddie again.

"It's nice actually, waking up and you still being here." Steve eventually sighed. "Got worried for a sec that maybe you wouldn't be."

Eddie turned onto his side, cheek nestled against the plush of the pillow so he could really look. "Got worried for a sec that maybe you wouldn't want me to be."

Continue reading on AO3

[unclejezzzy]

‘It’s hot as fuck out.’ ‘Well if you took off the jacket?’ ‘Not even upon pain of death.’ ‘If you want to look like a boiled lobster it’s up to you. It’s so sexy. You're so hot right now...literally’ ‘Fuck off, Steve.’

This is based on a ref I saw, and all I could think was ‘this is Eddie in summer’. The stubborn metalhead who refuses to take off his many jackets despite it being boiling as fuck. The shorts don’t do a damn thing, nor do friends who tell them not to be so daft. I’ve known many a Metalhead just refuse to not be so cool despite dying in the heat.

[unclejezzzy]

[unclejezzzy]

Maybe a little cheesy couple like, but whatever haha

Let’s give them these kind of summer day

[unclejezzzy]

how we feeling 2022 i mean 2024

[unclejezzzy]

Aren't You The Sweetest Thing On This Side of Hell | Part 5 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It's 1990. Following the fire at Club Venus, Eddie is forced to confront his past in order to make his relationship with Steve work.

Eddie's chest ached.

He had been staring at the back of Steve's head for around half an hour, watching him breathe. And his chest ached.

But he was noticing. He noticed the strands of gold in his hair that weaved throughout the layers of chestnut. Never being too loud, never drawing attention to themselves. He noticed the changing hues from the tan of his skin past the neckline of his shirt, and the never before seen moles that dappled along it.

He wondered if he dragged his fingers across them to connect them, they'd show him to some sort of pot of gold.

Eddie used these stolen moments of complete silence like a lifeline. Just watching Steve breathe and sigh, unaware of the world around him in his slumber. It felt like a reward. For what? He didn't know. But he must have done something right along the way to deserve this. Or maybe - it was a blessing for everything wrong that had happened to him.

In the same way that he was noticing, he was starting to panic. This could be his life, now. Exactly as they are now.

And there was that voice. That guy. Hanging off the side of his neck with his canines buried in the flesh, telling him he was no good for it. He was no good for any of it.

He loved his solitude. He loved basking in the aloneness of it all. But he felt as though maybe he could be made for this too, if his self would allow it. He could be a good lover. He wanted to be.

But he wasn't soft like Steve. He wasn't instinctively kind or enthusiastic like Steve. He didn't see the good in people like Steve. But maybe the two of them were the same in a way. They had both been worn away with acts of hatred and violence to become gentle like this with one another.

Steve stirred, taking a sharp intake of breath through his nostrils as Eddie didn't dare move, eyes wide and body frozen in place.

He quickly averted his gaze to the ceiling, arms folded tightly across his chest. He soon realised that it's probably kinda weird to be staring intently at another person the second they wake up.

Steve groaned softly, stretching out his arms underneath his pillow as he acclimatised himself in his consciousness. Eddie peered at him out of the corner of his eye, now affronted with the all encompassing vision before him.

"Hey." Steve smiled, voice strained as he wiped the sleep out from his eyes.

"Hi." Eddie said, biting back a smile that spread far too easily across his lips.

Was it natural for somebody to look this beautiful the second they open their eyes? It wasn't perfect by any means. It wasn't the kinda beauty you see in movies when the actors wake up and somehow their hair and makeup was pristine and they had just the right amount of rouge on their cheeks. That was unrealistic. That glowy, ethereal bullshit.

It was beautiful because it was real. His stubble had darkened ever so slightly, his eyes were puffy and red, lips chapped and eyes watery. Eddie had built dreams around something like this.

"You sleep okay?" Steve asked - scratching his head as he scooped his hair up and out of his face, still laying on his stomach.

"Mhm." Eddie hummed. "You?"

"Yeah, not bad." Steve smiled this giddy, gleaming smile that made Eddie's insides churn.

"Good." Eddie acknowledged quietly.

"Hand?" Steve asked firmly, his pointer finger prodding against the flesh of Eddie's exposed wrist that sat atop his ribcage.

Eddie flexed his fingers beneath the bandage that had loosened in his sleep. His skin tight and tender. "Mm. Lil' sore. But - fine."

"Make sure you change those bandages. Let it breathe a bit before it gets all weepy and gross." Steve spoke sternly as Eddie bungled out a laugh.

"Yes, Doctor Harrington."

"You wish." Steve shot back with a short smirk.

Eddie did wish. But he wasn't going to let the thought of Steve in a full Doctors getup, stethoscope and all, make his already uncomfortable morning situation any more uncomfortable.

"Did I snore - at all? I'm just feeling a little congested. I get allergies in the Summer."

He gets allergies in the Summer. Of course he does. He's fucking perfect.

"Not that I noticed. If you did I slept through it." Eddie shrugged. "Did I?" He asked, a sudden whelm of self consciousness engulfing him.

"No."

"Hm." Eddie resided, nodding to himself. "You did kick me a couple times but it's fine."

"You must have deserved it." Steve snarked with no bite.

"I don't doubt it."

Eddie watched Steve's throat expand and shrink as he swallowed hard. He propped himself up on his elbows, drinking in the morning before he exhaled deeply. He glanced around the room before his gaze fully settled on Eddie again.

"It's nice actually, waking up and you still being here." Steve eventually sighed. "Got worried for a sec that maybe you wouldn't be."

Eddie turned onto his side, cheek nestled against the plush of the pillow so he could really look. "Got worried for a sec that maybe you wouldn't want me to be."

Continue reading on AO3

[unclejezzzy]

New chapter alert if you don’t know get to known

I Despise My Jealous Eyes (And How Hard They Fell For You) Part 4 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It’s 1990. Eddie Munson is trying excruciatingly hard not to fall in love with Steve Harrington whilst he’s living under his roof. Despite all his best efforts, not even he is immune to Steve.

OR: Eddie’s in love with Steve but thinks Steve went on a date with someone else and it’s just chaos and angst because Eddie can’t communicate his feelings.

Eddie didn't play along. He couldn't play along. Because it wasn't a game anymore. It was real and dangerous. It made his palms itch and his legs bounce and his stomach unwillingly lurch if he so much as thought about it.

And truly, Steve tried everything to get him to cave.

If they were passing each other around the apartment - Steve would linger that extra little while longer in front of him, blocking his path with shuffling feet and a saccharine smile.

He would wander aimlessly around after a shower, toweling off his hair whilst the one around his waist would dip just below the crevices of his pelvic bones.

He would bend over in his running shorts whilst he pulled his sneakers on at an agonisingly slow pace, angling himself just right so Eddie had the full view.

Eddie just resigned himself to sitting firmly on the couch biting down against the plastic of a ball point pen whenever Steve decided to put on a show of frankly torturous proportions.

He used drastic mental measures to shake the shape of Steve's ass from his mind that seemed to have permanently embedded itself behind his eyelids.

Which mainly just included cold showers and watching the news. Worldwide tragedy always seemed to do the trick.

And Eddie was trying his hardest not to think about sex.

Or rather, he was testing the waters of not seeing sex as this all encompassing thing when it came to Steve.

Eddie realised shortly after finishing himself off under his sheets the other night - biting down against the back of his hand until his teeth formed mounds within the flesh, that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to be seen by Steve.

That maybe it could be soft and tender, with quiet moments where they were both equals and are just enjoying each others company. And that maybe he could be all of those things too.

Except, he couldn't really find the words to say. And his body language wasn't all that much to go by either.

And sure, there were lots of things that Eddie wanted to say. None of them sounding remotely like him in any sense or even sane. Because romance was an entirely foreign thing to Eddie.

He'd never really needed it to get by or to get what he wanted. He'd never had to go on dates or lay his jacket down over a puddle for a fair maiden. And it's not exactly like he could have dated anybody in High School.

He didn't have that much of a death wish.

He didn't go to the club that weekend. Instead, he ushered Steve out of the door for his shifts armed with ample excuses as to why he wouldn't be going out that night.

And the night after that.

And the night after that.

Eddie had done enough imaginary overtime to be carrying the entire company on his back.

Instead; he trawled through every movie, soap opera, and ridiculous Hallmark movie that he could stomach on TV.

It all came so naturally to them. I mean, sure they were acting. Eddie knew that.

But the words just rolled right off their tongues with so much ease. Like they've known what they were going to say this whole time. Like it was sitting under their tongues just waiting for that moment. And that must just be how it is in real life too.

You just say what you feel.

And Eddie didn't have any of the words for the feelings he had. So he was reduced to saying nothing, lest he make a fucking fool of himself.

And he didn't even know if Steve wanted romance. The buying flowers, cooking dinner and slow dancing in the kitchen type of romance that made Eddie's throat constrict.

He was right back where he started.

He was right back at his desk at Hawkins High. Sat at the back, pretending to be remotely interested in whatever Mr Moran was saying in Science class whilst carving blasphemous phrases into the wood with the sharp end of a compass - staring at the back of King Steve's head wondering how he got his hair to do that.

He was back under the bleachers, smoking a pack of Camels whilst skipping gym and watching King Steve run in those tiny satin running shorts. Wondering how great life must be to just have his undivided attention for just a second. Because it must be worth something, right? To be touched by Steve Harrington.

Those girls flocked around him like they were watching him turn water into wine right in front of their eyes in Chemistry class.

And Eddie was always there, out of sight, burning pieces of paper against the low flame of a Bunsen burner. Wondering why life had to be so unfair and mentally cursing God or whoever for giving him the short straw in terms of physical allure.

Because Eddie was irrevocably and unforgivingly in love with Steve Harrington. And there was not a single thing he could do about it.

Continue reading on AO3:

[unclejezzzy]

here for a good time not a long time 💜🧡

[unclejezzzy]

that one picture doing the rounds

Something something, different first meeting, enemies to lovers, modern au, something something

[unclejezzzy]

I Despise My Jealous Eyes (And How Hard They Fell For You) Part 4 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It’s 1990. Eddie Munson is trying excruciatingly hard not to fall in love with Steve Harrington whilst he’s living under his roof. Despite all his best efforts, not even he is immune to Steve.

OR: Eddie’s in love with Steve but thinks Steve went on a date with someone else and it’s just chaos and angst because Eddie can’t communicate his feelings.

Eddie didn't play along. He couldn't play along. Because it wasn't a game anymore. It was real and dangerous. It made his palms itch and his legs bounce and his stomach unwillingly lurch if he so much as thought about it.

And truly, Steve tried everything to get him to cave.

If they were passing each other around the apartment - Steve would linger that extra little while longer in front of him, blocking his path with shuffling feet and a saccharine smile.

He would wander aimlessly around after a shower, toweling off his hair whilst the one around his waist would dip just below the crevices of his pelvic bones.

He would bend over in his running shorts whilst he pulled his sneakers on at an agonisingly slow pace, angling himself just right so Eddie had the full view.

Eddie just resigned himself to sitting firmly on the couch biting down against the plastic of a ball point pen whenever Steve decided to put on a show of frankly torturous proportions.

He used drastic mental measures to shake the shape of Steve's ass from his mind that seemed to have permanently embedded itself behind his eyelids.

Which mainly just included cold showers and watching the news. Worldwide tragedy always seemed to do the trick.

And Eddie was trying his hardest not to think about sex.

Or rather, he was testing the waters of not seeing sex as this all encompassing thing when it came to Steve.

Eddie realised shortly after finishing himself off under his sheets the other night - biting down against the back of his hand until his teeth formed mounds within the flesh, that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to be seen by Steve.

That maybe it could be soft and tender, with quiet moments where they were both equals and are just enjoying each others company. And that maybe he could be all of those things too.

Except, he couldn't really find the words to say. And his body language wasn't all that much to go by either.

And sure, there were lots of things that Eddie wanted to say. None of them sounding remotely like him in any sense or even sane. Because romance was an entirely foreign thing to Eddie.

He'd never really needed it to get by or to get what he wanted. He'd never had to go on dates or lay his jacket down over a puddle for a fair maiden. And it's not exactly like he could have dated anybody in High School.

He didn't have that much of a death wish.

He didn't go to the club that weekend. Instead, he ushered Steve out of the door for his shifts armed with ample excuses as to why he wouldn't be going out that night.

And the night after that.

And the night after that.

Eddie had done enough imaginary overtime to be carrying the entire company on his back.

Instead; he trawled through every movie, soap opera, and ridiculous Hallmark movie that he could stomach on TV.

It all came so naturally to them. I mean, sure they were acting. Eddie knew that.

But the words just rolled right off their tongues with so much ease. Like they've known what they were going to say this whole time. Like it was sitting under their tongues just waiting for that moment. And that must just be how it is in real life too.

You just say what you feel.

And Eddie didn't have any of the words for the feelings he had. So he was reduced to saying nothing, lest he make a fucking fool of himself.

And he didn't even know if Steve wanted romance. The buying flowers, cooking dinner and slow dancing in the kitchen type of romance that made Eddie's throat constrict.

He was right back where he started.

He was right back at his desk at Hawkins High. Sat at the back, pretending to be remotely interested in whatever Mr Moran was saying in Science class whilst carving blasphemous phrases into the wood with the sharp end of a compass - staring at the back of King Steve's head wondering how he got his hair to do that.

He was back under the bleachers, smoking a pack of Camels whilst skipping gym and watching King Steve run in those tiny satin running shorts. Wondering how great life must be to just have his undivided attention for just a second. Because it must be worth something, right? To be touched by Steve Harrington.

Those girls flocked around him like they were watching him turn water into wine right in front of their eyes in Chemistry class.

And Eddie was always there, out of sight, burning pieces of paper against the low flame of a Bunsen burner. Wondering why life had to be so unfair and mentally cursing God or whoever for giving him the short straw in terms of physical allure.

Because Eddie was irrevocably and unforgivingly in love with Steve Harrington. And there was not a single thing he could do about it.

Continue reading on AO3:

[unclejezzzy]

Incase you haven’t seen yet 👺🫵🏻

You Poison Every Little Thing That I Do | Part 3 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It's 1990. Eddie Munson finds his world completely turned upside down when Steve Harrington, an unwelcome presence, becomes a permanent fixture in his life, residing under the same roof. Eddie harbors a deep-seated resentment towards Steve, while Steve, yearning for companionship, seeks Eddie's friendship. The line between affection and attraction becomes increasingly blurred when the bonds of friendship are tested.

OR: Steve and Eddie try to be friends even though they lowkey just wanna fuck each other and won't talk about it

Eddie awoke abruptly to a grating and discordant symphony of clattering coming from his kitchen. He acclimatised to his surroundings, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands.

An acrid smell of something burning wafted from underneath his doorframe.

It was an assault on all of his senses on none other than a Monday morning.

Lethargically, he hauled himself out of bed. Fumbling around in his dresser for a T-shirt and yanking a pair of jeans from a hanger in his closet. The closet that still and always remained in utter disarray.

Skulking out of his bedroom, Steve stood frantic in the kitchen. A thick black smoke emanated from a frying pan as Steve attempted to savour the last of whatever it was with a wooden spoon. Miscellaneous ingredients he had forgotten he even had were strewn across the countertops.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked as Steve whipped around to face him.

If he didn't know better he would have assumed Steve was trying to burn down Eddie's apartment to kill them both in some kind of Shakespearean tragedy.

"Good morning!" Steve exclaimed, frantically.

"Is it?" Eddie shot back.

"I've decided I'm going to approach each new day with a full sense of positivity. And just - tell myself that everyday moving forward will be the best day of my life." Steve said, gleaming as Eddie made his way around him with a glare to reach the coffee pot.

"Okay well - could you start that off by cleaning up all of my shit?"

"Do you want some eggs? I can make you some eggs. Scrambled through cos - I don't know why, they always end up scrambled." Steve asked, tilting the pan towards Eddie.

"Was supposed to be sunny side up."

He tried to hide the sheer grimace that shrouded his face. He didn't know what he was looking at, but it was absolutely not any sort of egg he had ever seen before.

"No. Just coffee for me thanks." He said simply, pouring himself a mug.

"And a fuckin' cigarette." He muttered under his breath as he exited the kitchen as quickly as possible.

“You can't survive on just coffee and cigarettes. You need to eat." Steve lectured as Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well - I've lasted this long." Eddie shot back, pulling one from the carton and lighting it with a stray chrome lighter that sat atop the coffee table.

"I gotta go to work today so you're gonna have to keep yourself occupied."

“Oh - what time will you be back?" Steve asked.

He had this air of insufferable innocence about him that Eddie wanted to squash in any feasible way he could. He was like a prying toddler, sticking their hands into everything and creating a tornado of mess in their wake.

"I don't know? Why?" Eddie asked, taking an elongated drag.

"Just - wondering. God, you're really not a morning person." Steve said averting his gaze back to the stove top.

"I'll be back whenever I'm back. I don't keep track of these things."

"Okay." Steve shrugged.

"Just - keep the door locked. Don't break or set fire to anything. Don't answer the phone, let it ring out and I'll check the messages later. Actually - just don't touch anything else. Please." Eddie pleaded flatly as he watched Steve switch off the stove.

He transferred his definitely not eggs to a plate and stared at them blankly, unsatisfied with his meagre efforts.

Eddie started to wonder whether this guy had ever cooked a day in his life. And if he had - how many times had he contracted self induced salmonella?

“I seriously wouldn't eat those if I were you." Eddie advised, tapping the excess ash into the ashtray.

“Well - can I watch TV when you're gone?" Steve asked, discarding of the plate on the side with a wariness.

"Sure. Whatever." Eddie shrugged putting the cigarette limply into his mouth as he traipsed over to the door. He grabbed his boots, pulling them on as he leaned against the wall for balance.

"Can I listen to music?"

"Yes."

"Can I read your comics?"

Eddie sighed indignantly, lit cigarette flopping down his mouth as Steve stared back at him with his big eyes and cluelessness.

"Steve."

“What?"

"Just - do what you want. I don't care." He snapped, grabbing a leather jacket from the coat hook and shrugging it onto his shoulders before taking another drag.

"There's a spare key on the shelf if you do decide to go out anywhere."

"Okay. Well, I hope you have a good day." Steve smiled as Eddie grabbed his own set of keys from the coffee table.

"Sure, okay." Eddie snarked, swiftly leaving and slamming the door behind him with a deep exhale.

Continue reading on AO3:

[unclejezzzy]

You Poison Every Little Thing That I Do | Part 3 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It's 1990. Eddie Munson finds his world completely turned upside down when Steve Harrington, an unwelcome presence, becomes a permanent fixture in his life, residing under the same roof. Eddie harbors a deep-seated resentment towards Steve, while Steve, yearning for companionship, seeks Eddie's friendship. The line between affection and attraction becomes increasingly blurred when the bonds of friendship are tested.

OR: Steve and Eddie try to be friends even though they lowkey just wanna fuck each other and won't talk about it

Eddie awoke abruptly to a grating and discordant symphony of clattering coming from his kitchen. He acclimatised to his surroundings, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands.

An acrid smell of something burning wafted from underneath his doorframe.

It was an assault on all of his senses on none other than a Monday morning.

Lethargically, he hauled himself out of bed. Fumbling around in his dresser for a T-shirt and yanking a pair of jeans from a hanger in his closet. The closet that still and always remained in utter disarray.

Skulking out of his bedroom, Steve stood frantic in the kitchen. A thick black smoke emanated from a frying pan as Steve attempted to savour the last of whatever it was with a wooden spoon. Miscellaneous ingredients he had forgotten he even had were strewn across the countertops.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked as Steve whipped around to face him.

If he didn't know better he would have assumed Steve was trying to burn down Eddie's apartment to kill them both in some kind of Shakespearean tragedy.

"Good morning!" Steve exclaimed, frantically.

"Is it?" Eddie shot back.

"I've decided I'm going to approach each new day with a full sense of positivity. And just - tell myself that everyday moving forward will be the best day of my life." Steve said, gleaming as Eddie made his way around him with a glare to reach the coffee pot.

"Okay well - could you start that off by cleaning up all of my shit?"

"Do you want some eggs? I can make you some eggs. Scrambled through cos - I don't know why, they always end up scrambled." Steve asked, tilting the pan towards Eddie.

"Was supposed to be sunny side up."

He tried to hide the sheer grimace that shrouded his face. He didn't know what he was looking at, but it was absolutely not any sort of egg he had ever seen before.

"No. Just coffee for me thanks." He said simply, pouring himself a mug.

"And a fuckin' cigarette." He muttered under his breath as he exited the kitchen as quickly as possible.

“You can't survive on just coffee and cigarettes. You need to eat." Steve lectured as Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well - I've lasted this long." Eddie shot back, pulling one from the carton and lighting it with a stray chrome lighter that sat atop the coffee table.

"I gotta go to work today so you're gonna have to keep yourself occupied."

“Oh - what time will you be back?" Steve asked.

He had this air of insufferable innocence about him that Eddie wanted to squash in any feasible way he could. He was like a prying toddler, sticking their hands into everything and creating a tornado of mess in their wake.

"I don't know? Why?" Eddie asked, taking an elongated drag.

"Just - wondering. God, you're really not a morning person." Steve said averting his gaze back to the stove top.

"I'll be back whenever I'm back. I don't keep track of these things."

"Okay." Steve shrugged.

"Just - keep the door locked. Don't break or set fire to anything. Don't answer the phone, let it ring out and I'll check the messages later. Actually - just don't touch anything else. Please." Eddie pleaded flatly as he watched Steve switch off the stove.

He transferred his definitely not eggs to a plate and stared at them blankly, unsatisfied with his meagre efforts.

Eddie started to wonder whether this guy had ever cooked a day in his life. And if he had - how many times had he contracted self induced salmonella?

“I seriously wouldn't eat those if I were you." Eddie advised, tapping the excess ash into the ashtray.

“Well - can I watch TV when you're gone?" Steve asked, discarding of the plate on the side with a wariness.

"Sure. Whatever." Eddie shrugged putting the cigarette limply into his mouth as he traipsed over to the door. He grabbed his boots, pulling them on as he leaned against the wall for balance.

"Can I listen to music?"

"Yes."

"Can I read your comics?"

Eddie sighed indignantly, lit cigarette flopping down his mouth as Steve stared back at him with his big eyes and cluelessness.

"Steve."

“What?"

"Just - do what you want. I don't care." He snapped, grabbing a leather jacket from the coat hook and shrugging it onto his shoulders before taking another drag.

"There's a spare key on the shelf if you do decide to go out anywhere."

"Okay. Well, I hope you have a good day." Steve smiled as Eddie grabbed his own set of keys from the coffee table.

"Sure, okay." Eddie snarked, swiftly leaving and slamming the door behind him with a deep exhale.

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[unclejezzzy]

The Sweetest Torture One Could Bear | Part 1 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It’s 1990. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are forced to confront their shared past and shifting dynamics under the ever changing hues of a gay club in Indianapolis. Eddie, exuding confidence and embracing his sexuality offers a helping hand to Steve who is buckling under the weight of societal pressures.

OR: Steve wants to sleep with a guy for the first time and Eddie reluctantly helps against his better judgement.

Indianapolis, 1990

Eddie leant back on his elbows against the metal topped bar of the club, eyes squinting as he delicately held the rim of his glass between his fingers.

It was a Saturday night which meant that it was nothing short of a a visual feast for the senses.

The music pulsated through his body, situating itself in his spine as he squinted out at the vast expanse of potential conquests through the smoky haze.

The multi-colored lights above bathed the adumbrate dancers in an ever-changing rainbow of hues. The walls were adorned with mirrors, reflecting the dancers and amplifying the feeling of being part of something larger than oneself. Giant video screens played music videos and club scene footage, immersing them all in a world of pure hedonism.

Of course, Eddie couldn't deny that a majority of the time the clientele were just as visually stunning as their surroundings. Dancing bodies adorned in leather, lace, and sequins were all in abundance, as per usual.

But something was different. He didn't have the usual feeling that anything was possible in there tonight.

Something was missing.

"What about that guy?" Robin asked; voice elevated so it could carry over the bass of the music as she leaned across from behind the bar on her tiptoes to point out across the room to a guy with spiky blonde hair in a tank top.

“Nah - had him already. He's boring." Eddie said cavalierly.

"Boring?" She reiterated, busying herself with wiping the rims of highball glasses with a dish towel.

"He sucked dick like he was working a nine to five." He scoffed a laugh, taking a sip of his drink.

"Okay, fine." She shrugged, neck craned as she scoured their surroundings.

"Him?"

"Nah - too - muscly." Eddie grimaced, immediately glancing away without wasting a second.

"I thought you liked that?" She asked, looking up at him beneath furrowed brows.

"I like 'em toned, like a subtle 'yeah I work out but it's not my entire personality.' I don't want someone who looks like they're the face for sports steroids advertisements." Eddie said firmly.

"God you're so picky, you're looking for a hook up not a husband." Robin clarified, rolling her eyes.

"There's just nobody new and exciting. It's the same faces, same music, same routine. It's exhausting." He said, staring out ahead of him as he kissed his lips between his teeth.

"Yeah, I forgot that getting your dick sucked could be so tedious." She said in jest as Eddie chose not to respond.

"You know, maybe you're just not as into it as you used to be. That's fine, you know. To grow up and get a life outside of hooking up with people. Maybe settle down, get a boyfriend or something."

Eddie narrowed his eyes, pretending to be in deep pensive thought.

"Nah, that doesn't sound like something I'd do." He eventually said, lips breaking out into a devilish grin as Robin glared across at him.

He allowed his eyes to glaze back over the crowds of people.

His vision fixated on a lone guy with lightly tousled brown hair leaning against the metal bars of the balcony, facing away from him. It was long, layered. Purposely messy? Eddie couldn't decide. But he loved how it curled around his neck from the length.

He was wearing camel coloured chinos and a navy blue T-shirt. Fingers tapping against his crossed arms as he continued to look out at the vastness ahead of him.

Two go-go boys dressed in nothing but tight fitting, metallic shorts and pairs of cheap angel wings that were most likely bought from a Spirit Halloween store were either side of him.

They were elevated from the floor, encased in metal caging with dollar bills hanging limp from their waistbands.

It was an ethereal sight given the circumstances. If he believed in that kind of la-di-da butterfly effect bullshit he would have assumed that the universe had placed him in his line of sight for a reason.

Eddie's eyes scanned the length of his body.

He couldn't help but admire the curvature of his ass; how it was packed so tightly into the material it almost made them look as though they were painted on with the way they hugged his hips and thighs.

"Him." He said firmly, not breaking his gaze.

"What?" Robin asked.

"Him, over there." Eddie said, clicking his fingers with an outstretched arm to draw her in to his line of sight.

"The guy in the chinos?"

"Yeah. I want him."

"You haven't even seen his face yet." She warranted.

"Don't need to. He's got an ass that goes for miles. He could be the ugliest fucker in the world for all I care. I'll just go behind, don't have to look at him." He clarified, biting down against the flesh of his lower lip.

"Here I was thinking you were shallow." She shot back, voice tainted with sarcasm as she slung the dish towel over her shoulder.

"I'm going over." He affirmed - voice low as he downed the remainder of his drink, reaching around to place the empty glass behind himself on the bar.

"Okay, have fun. Be good." Robin called out after him as he brushed down the front of his black tee.

"Never. Don't miss me too much." He shot back, teasingly as he ran his fingers through his bangs to ensure they were placed in the perfect divide between careless and purposeful.

The thing with Eddie is that he didn't get rejected. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he got rejected.

He read an article that stated that statistically speaking, men think about sex on average around 19 times a day. This was one of those times that Eddie was happy to be branded as above average.

Of course, these statistics were based solely on straight men. Go figure.

When Eddie wasn't having sex, he was thinking about having sex. And the second he was finished having sex with the most beautiful man who ever lived, he was thinking about the next beautiful man who ever lived that he'd meet the next night.

And luckily for this guy, he was right on his radar.

He sauntered through the throngs of people, skin prickling in anticipation as he approached him. It was almost exhilarating, reaching the apex of a desired conquest.

"Hey, had a busy night?" Eddie asked, slinking an arm around the guys waist as he whipped round to face him.

He had hoped his gaze would be met with the same inquisitive eagerness. Instead, he was met with brown forlorn eyes and furrowed brows with a sinister familiarity to them.

The chiselled jawline, the mole on the side of his neck beneath the stubble, the irate demeanour.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Eddie announced, retracting his hand with the same speed you would if you caught it on the side of a hot teakettle.

"Oh God." The other breathed out, eyes darting maniacally across his face as Eddie watched the muscles of his neck contract with a deep swallow.

"Steve?" Eddie asked, biting back a laugh as his jaw slacked in awe.

"No." He said hastily, shaking his head as he darted around at his surroundings for a quick escape.

"Oh my God, it is you. Steve Harrington. From Hawkins High." Eddie pressed as he watched him back away, hand gripping the metal of the balcony for stability.

King Steve. Hawkins High maverick, belligerent basketball captain, disciples at his heels. He sounded like a cliche.

He was a cliche.

The man was a planet who carried his own gravity.

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