she/her, bi, 40's, mostly just reposting the things I love, and venting when I need to. Currently obsessed with Eddie Munson/Joe Quinn from Stranger Things and the Hellcheer ship. On AO3 as @hellcheerbrainrot and I will post fic updates here! (deal with it)
having many thoughts. here is one I've been tossing around as a potential au:
farmer!eddie who, in all honestly, had no intentions of being a farmer ever in his life.
wayne and eddie's dad grew up on a cattle farm in the rural part of hawkins, the next city over with a smaller population the hawkins. there's nothing but cornfields, cows, and not even a paved road- no man's land, wayne used to call it. their father, eddie's grandfather, worked it for years and years, but refused to ever sell it. he eventually put it in his will that it went to wayne, no way he'd ever give it to eddie's dad.
eddie remembered going there in the summers, helping his grandpa cyril with the cows and his grandma deb with the green beans and the corn she grew in her garden. they didn't have running water out there until he was seventeen, so he always had to go to the well or the outhouse, but he didn't mind. eddie liked staying in the cow fields, and would get overly emotional when one would be sold, so he stopped going as much.
grandma deb passed when he was nineteen, and cyril lasted a few years later, when eddie had just turned twenty-three. that's when the family farm went to wayne.
"no way I can keep up with this shit." wayne shook his head looking at the books his father had left behind for them. "I don't know how he kept this damn thing going. hasn't had a cow in years."
wayne decides to sell, but before he does, eddie is approached by rick- fresh out of the slammer, and antsy about the selling of the farm. "ed, you gotta tell your uncle to not sell the farm." rick says.
eddie is confused. why the fuck does rick want the farm?? why does rick know about this farm period?? "look, your dad hooked me up with your grandpa a while ago. they weren't using their greenhouse, so I paid them to rent it..." rick raised his brows in suggestion. eddie was still confused. "for my special produce... my special plants?"
eddie;s jaw dropped. so that's how they broke even. rick paid them to grow his supply out there and paid them under the table. rick ran a hand down his face. "look, I'll pay double, alright? you don't have to do anything but water it and let me keep it there. I got a big demand and I can't do it here. the cops will be on me. no one will think to look at some shit hole cow far- no offense."
so that's how eddie ends up with the farm. he tells wayne some bullshit about it being in the family, and they can't just let it go, so wayne says if he can keep it in business, it's his.
it's beautiful, lush with rolling hills, a nice farm house, stables for the cows, one for horses, a chicken coop, a pond where that damn mean goose always lives- that thing won't die- and of course, his grandma's beloved greenhouse.
when eddie tells you he's moving out there, asks you to join him, you're skeptical. you'd been together for a while, already lived together, but moving to a farm???? what the hell did you know about a farm???
you move, reluctantly, and eddie and you spend the first summer fixing, restoring, rearranging things.
"are we gonna get any animals?" you ask one night, holding a picture steady so eddie can hammer it in the wall.
eddie lifts a brow. "do you want any animals?"
you huff. "well, yeah, it would be nice. ya know, make the farm an actual farm."
"we've got the goose." eddie shrugs.
"fuck the goose." you sneer, shaking your head. damn rabid thing chased you when you were on the dock. hissed at you. fucking possessed thing.
eddie grins. "what kind of animal do you want then, baby?" he asks, head tilting to the side to look at you.
you weren't sure, but you still knew it was fate when a week later, you saw the ad in the paper. people sold the weirdest things, including an old dairy cow, rescued from some shitty factory farm, looking for a home or they'd have to put her down.
bessy, was her name. and bessy was the first animal you brought in to the farm. she'd been scared, skittish, and you couldn't blame her. she didn't like eddie, only letting you feed her, give her her medicine. you brought her blankets when it was cold, eddie cleaned the stables (you drew the line there) but after a while, bessy became your baby. lying her heavy head in your lap for you to pet when you'd sit in the fields. she came around to eddie too, eventually, but always preferred you.
then it was eeyore, a donkey named after your favorite disney show as a kid. he was a little different, a little sluggish which is why the owners sold him, not good for work, but that was alright because here he didn't have to. eddie fixed up a stable next to him. he thought he was hilarious. the sounds he'd make, how he'd trot behind him. eddie thought it was funny.
the farm grew and grew. chickens- which you thought would be a good idea for fresh eggs, they were not. evil things that pecked and chased you. you always sent eddie in after them, they liked him better.
a rescued horse from pony rides at some shitty "petting zoo", two more cows from slaughter houses, and the weirdest of all- two emus. you weren't sure where eddie got the emus, or what they were. they just appeared with him one day with the short explanation of "someone asked me if I wanted them."
cruella and bilbo, one sweet emu baby, the other a demon from hell. cruella, named after you, only liked men. hated you. dove at you, puffed her feathered chest, and would try and peck your eyes out every chance she got if you didn't stop her. bilbo was brainless and sweet, following you around with vacant eyes.
wayne stopped by regularly, asking you how the "zoo" was with a laugh. rick kept his stash growing in the greenhouse, giving you a cut of the revenue so you and eddie could keep up your farm. the more the business grew, so did your little farm. just the two of you, on munson farms, which was turning out to be more of a zoo (and dispensary lol).
no one expected the metal head, "freak" of hawkins to be a farmer- to be fair, neither did eddie. yet here he was, tending to chickens, cows, donkeys, and multiple types of birds, and doing it flawlessly. except for beelzebub the goose, he still didn't fuck with the goose.
i could also see reader convincing eddie to buy those miniature goats because she thinks they’re cute and he has a very hard time saying no to her. it would become her little baby and she’d carry her in a blanket and eddie’s like sweetheart you can’t bring the animals inside.
I love when dogs and cats just let you pat the shit out of them and they enjoy it so much. Like yeah dude real quick I just need to play you like a bongo and they’re like god yes I’ve been waiting for someone to play me like a bongo
Avengers... Assemble! This week, a COVID-ravaged V and hardier Emily discuss a fannish, and mainstream, event they know all too well: the release of "the most ambitious crossover event in history," Avengers: Endgame. While living in a fandom bubble can make it feel like "the audience" wants one thing, big blockbusters like Endgame remind us all too harshly that fandom is still just a bunch of weirdo outliers, and as far as studios are concerned, "the audience" wants something that is -- often -- the opposite of what fandom wants. Does the thought of Steve's ending also fill you with unbridled rage? What blockbuster movie left you with a hole in your soul?
This Week In Fandom History is a fandom-centric podcast that tells you… what happened this week in fandom history!
Eddie Munson was a gifted kid who grew up in poverty and neglect without the nurturing environment he desperately needed.
He was neurodivergent and hyperactive.
He coped in high school by experimenting with drugs, skipping school, making himself to be the most expressive and obnoxious in any room, and keeping himself preoccupied with hobbies,friends and a fictional world to avoid any thought of his actual future.
And man, if that isn’t some specific ass representation you never get but desperately need.
TITLE: ...and they were roommates
WORD COUNT: 3.8k
SUMMARY: you make some discoveries about your friend and roommate when he reveals a fantasy to you.
WARNINGS: 18+ absolutely no minors. sub!joe, sex, tit worship, i think that's all?
NOTES: i've been working on this for a considerable amount of time, since before i even started posting fic! it's partially inspired by a gone wild audio.
It’s a calm, quiet Friday night in your high-rise London apartment and you’re sprawled out on the couch, eyes drooping closed to the sound of the television in the background after a long, long week at the office. It’s been a stressful week, but you’re content - you have the apartment to yourself (at least for now) to relax and unwind with two lovely days off ahead of you, because this week really has been the shittiest with a doubled work load due to a sickness going round the office, leading to everyone else having to pick up the slack.
It frustrated you, because things like this wouldn’t happen if people would stop coming into work sick and infecting everyone else. You hated the whole thing where people felt like they needed to work when they were sick because it was frowned upon to call in sick, because people should be allowed to take time out when needed - without feeling the guilt and without causing issues like this.
You’d tried to tell your roommate Joe all about this as he’d left for his date -- some model he’d met on that shitty app that Wes has told him to sign up for -- but his eyes had all but glazed over. You smile fondly at the thought of him, fucking Joe has never had to work a day in his life between the rich parents and the falling into an acting career as soon as he’d finished school - you couldn’t expect him to understand.
The two of you had been friends throughout school, he was a skater boy (and you’d not said see you later boy) and you’d been one of the girls who’d hung out at the skate park watching the skater boys and had been pulled into the friend group, but the two of you had just clicked. It had never been romantic, just the two of you had discovered that you had a lot of the same interests and so a friendship had formed naturally, that had lasted through school and college and now into your adult lives.
And not many people knew him as well as you did. Your stupid, complex, cocky friend who who got away with it because he’s so charming, has the worst fashion sense you’ve ever seen, but the biggest heart - the whole reason you lived in this apartment with him was because of your shitty ex-boyfriend, you’d been together since college and a few years ago you’d found him in bed with someone else and he’d responded by throwing you out of your shared apartment and Joe had been your knight in shining armour and had offered to let you stay with him for a few days. He’d also come back with a black eye the day he and Wes and a couple of your other friends had gone to said exes’ apartment to get more of your stuff.
He’d never told you how he’d managed to get it - you’d asked, he’d not answered and Wes had fucking cackled loudly. He and the others had managed to come back unscathed, so what had Joe said or done to get that black eye?
So yes, the stay in this apartment had been supposed to be temporary. And here you were, almost four years later still living in the spare room. You paid rent of course, you were on the tenancy now, but you paid a considerable less amount than Joe did. You hated it, of course, but every time you tried to discuss contributing more, he shot you down and said it made sense that the one that earned the most money should pay a higher share.
He was definitely raking in more money than you now.
You’d been hanging out one summer day, minding your own business when and he and Wes had come barrelling into the apartment at full speed, out of breath and shouting something about how Joe’s agent had demanded he do a self-tape for some Netflix series. You’d laughed when they’d said it was a character who was a metalhead, because you’d been there for Joe’s Skater Boy Era but couldn’t fathom the idea. You’d sarcastically suggested that you could lend them your eyeliner pen and both of their eyes had lit up.
Anyway, it had worked because after all of his grinding and taking on whatever role he was offered, your boy had finally gotten his big break and had landed the role of everyone’s favourite metalhead - Eddie Munson -- on Netflix’s Stranger Things. And you couldn’t be more prouder of him. Now he was in high demand, everyone wanted a piece of him, he was being offered auditions and new agents all over the place, had been nominated for awards and had been offered sponsorships and was winning hearts all over the place. You could have done without being followed around Italy when the friend group had tried to go on vacation and having to tightly, tightly lock down your social media lest some unhinged fourteen year old think you were his girlfriend, though.
And to your utter relief, nothing about him had changed.
Well, apart from the amount he was shagging. That you could have done without too - not that you begrudged him of having his fun, but some of those girls were loud and he was in desperate need of a new mattress because holy squeaking. It’s like he forgot that you slept in the next room over.
And you actually felt sorry for him, because you knew him better than anyone else and you knew that he went into these dates hoping that he’d make a connection, most of your friend group were chained up after all - Wes had been with his girlfriend a sickening amount of time and everyone else was dating, with a couple of engagements here and there, leaving you and Joe the chronically single ones. He’d not always been single of course, he’d had girlfriends here and there, most recently right before he started work on Stranger Things and that had fizzled out. And there was never a connection there, it was almost like these girls wanted the pride of hooking up with the new hottest thing on the block.
You didn’t blame them, he was very handsome… And you’d admit it, you were a tiny bit jealous. Yeah, he’d had girlfriends all throughout your friendship, but you’d never had to share him the amount that you were now. He was your Joey after all, you cared about him deeply.
Your eyes snap open and you sit up on the sofa, looking at the clock as the TV drones on in the background. The front door to the apartment has just slammed shut, pulling you out of your deep thoughts and light dozing, it’s barely 9PM. Oh no, that means that this date has been a bust too. This is the third time he’s come back early, something seems to have changed in the past week and you don’t know what it is.
“Hey,” he walks into the living room, socked feet slipping against the laminate of the floor, as he loosens his tie and sheds his suit jacket. Thank God you’ve managed to get him to move on from the hideous brown thing his Dad suggested he buy for his cousins wedding. You’d been his date to that and you’d almost refused to go when he’d walked out of his bedroom wearing that. So naturally he’s worn it on several dates and to every event he can get away with wearing it at. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
He knows all too well how shitty your week has been and how you have a habit of dozing off on the couch when you’re stressed out and tired from work. He didn’t *quite* wake you up, but you’re awake and alert and ready to listen to anything he has to say now.
“I was up,” you tell him. “You’re back… early…”
“You’re observant,” he bites back at you, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Oh goodie, he’s in a bad mood and you’re going to have to be the one to deal with it. He throws himself down on the couch next to you, the top two buttons on his shirt undone, exposing a smattering of his chest hair. You swallow. Why do you swallow? “Sorry,” he puts his head in his hands, briefly rubbing at his face. “It’s been a tough week for me too, negotiations fell through on that role I was telling you about?”
Oh no, he seemed super passionate about that. “I’m sorry,” you rub his shoulder soothingly. “And what else is going on?” because you don’t buy for just one moment that’s all it is.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” he tells you, leaning back into the couch, his eyes falling on the rereun of Friends playing on the TV. “How’ve you been other than work being shitty? We haven’t had much time to hang out together this week. How did the Tinder date go?”
“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Other than work everything is okay, the Tinder date did not go well, but I don’t want to talk about it.” you worry your lip between your teeth. “And okay, we don’t have to talk about whatever is going on with you… but if you want to, then I’m all ears.”
“Thanks.” is all he responds.
A silence falls between you, the pair of you just watching the rerun of Friends playing out on the screen for a few minutes, just the two of you enjoying the companionship between the two of you. He puts his arm against the back of the sofa and you shuffle a little bit closer to him.
Eventually, he clears his throat. “I’ve been speaking to three different women this week and all of them have turned out badly. The one tonight… I made reservations at a really nice restaurant, we were meeting up at a bar beforehand and as soon as we met up, she immediately shot down the idea of going out to dinner and wanted to come straight back here. The second one read something about me on Twitter, but wouldn’t tell me what it was and just blocked me…” he trails off.
“And the third one?” You push.
“I thought we’d really clicked, we were talking a lot about our lives and those around us and I swear, we must have sent at least two, maybe even three hundred messages over the course of two days, it was ridiculous… here…” he pulls his phone out of his pocket, opens the dating app and shows you the chat. He’s right, there are dozens of messages and you can see from them that your name pops up quite a lot…”And she unmatched with me and stopped replying.”
Yeah, you probably would have unmatched with him too if another woman's name kept coming up as much as it looked like yours had been. It’s really lovely to see that he very clearly values your friendship though. You don’t quite know what to say.
“I’m getting a little bit fed up with this app,” he says quietly. “It’s making me feel like I’m disposable, making me feel like these women only have an interest in my name, not me. I feel a bit used.” He lightens his voice up. “And not even in the good way.”
You laugh. “Oh yeah? What’s the good way?”
“I don’t see why I should have to always be the one to put in all the… effort, just because I’m the man.” he says. “I have this fantasy…” it’s almost like he realises what he’s saying to you and he stops himself. “But you don’t want to hear about that.”
“Joey,” you tease. “You can’t just say ‘I have this fantasy’ and not finish what you were saying, because you bloody well know know that I’m curious.”
He doesn’t speak for a beat. “Sometimes,” he says slowly. “Sometimes I don’t want to be the one in charge, I just want to sit there and be used, y’know? I don’t want to always be the one putting in all the effort, the women I’ve been with recently will barely move their hips, they just want me to do everything.” he swallows. “Maybe I’m saying I want to be dominated. It would have to be someone that I felt comfortable with and someone that I trusted, but it’ll never happen because I have this habit of putting women I feel a proper connection with in the friendzone and never letting them out.”
You swallow.
Joe seems a little bit lost in talking about his fantasy. “I guess… I guess it would start out because the woman I’m with... she’d straddle me.”
This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, this is a bad idea.
Before you can stop yourself, you’ve done just that. One of your knees either said of his lap, your face close to his.
Joe breathes out. “Y-Yeah.” he says a little shakily. “Just like that.” You’re worried that you’ve made him uncomfortable, that this was really, really fucking stupid and you’re about to move, but almost as if he senses what you’re thinking, he puts a hand on your lower back.
“Are you going to finish what you were saying?” You ask.
“I guess… next thing she’d do would to be… cup my chin, or maybe touch my cheek?”
Before you can stop yourself, you’ve done it again, your right hand cups his cheek and he looks at you.
He swallows and runs his tongue over his lips. “And then she’d kiss me.”
You don’t know who closes the gap first, because it all happens so fast but your mouth is on his, you share short, little pecks, you feel like he’s teasing you because every time there’s a chance the kiss will deepen he pulls away and turns it into another smaller kiss. Eventually he pulls his face away from yours and looks you dead in the eyes. “Are you sure this is okay?”
You don’t respond, you just pull him back in for another kiss. You get what you wanted this time, a deeper, more intense kiss, it doesn’t take very long at all for your tongues to get involved and you honestly feel like you’re back in high school, you’re kissing like a pair of teenagers who’ve just discovered how to make out, it’s sloppy and he’s… he’s moaning into your mouth. That’s something new you’ve learnt about your friend today, he’s really fucking vocal when he’s horny.
And you know he’s horny, because you accidentally grind down on him and you can feel that he’s hard as a fucking rock. Mind you, you’re not exactly innocent yourself. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life and you can’t believe it’s the stupid boy you met at the skate park all those years ago, who nearly broke his neck trying to do an ollie who’s made you feel this way. An OLLIE for Christ sakes.
You pull away from the kiss and Joe whimpers at the loss of contact and then moans loudly when your mouth finds his neck and you gently kiss at it and your hips buck into his, rubbing your arousal against his hardness, you can’t help but moan out a little into his neck.
“Fuck,” Joe breathes out. “Mark me. Please… please mark me.”
Arousal flips in your stomach as you suck on his neck, you use your lips, your teeth and he whimpers and moans and gasps out as you glide your tongue along his neck, you suck and you graze your teeth into him and you mark him. And when you’re done, you see the flowering of bruises all over the left side of his neck and one at his throat - that was the one that made him moan the loudest, that was the one that made him buck up into you.
“Wanna see your tits,” you hear him breathe. “Please? Really fucking wanna see your tits.”
“I don’t know…” you suck your teeth. “I kind of thought I was supposed to be the one in charge here?”
“Please.”
So you lean back and you undo your blouse, tossing it over your shoulder to somewhere in your living room and you’re so glad you wore your favourite black bra today, the one that cups you and supports you the best. Joe’s never seen you like this before, so you take in the way he’s looking at you. He looks dishevelled, his hair is a mess and you’re not even sure how that’s happened and his eyes are blown out, his mouth slightly agape.
And then he leans forwards and shoves his face into your tits.
You arch your back as he gives your tits the same attention that you’d given his neck, sucking and a little biting here and there and you squirm in his lap. Fuck. You feel his hands on your back, on your bra and you giggle to yourself as you realise he’s trying to get your bra undone and failing quite spectacularly at it.
“Awww, Joey,” you coo. “I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Casanova these days? You can’t even get a bra open?” You reach behind you and open it for him, your breasts finally fully revealed to him and he’s straight back in there, this time giving the same treatment to your nipples as he hungrily nibbles and sucks like a starving man.
God you could cum right now.
You close your eyes and breathe, letting out your own little moans and whimpers fall from your damp lips drinking it in as much as you can before you let it go back to him. You reach down and pop open the button of his suit pants and undo the zip. “Can I take this off?” you ask as he sighs, presumably getting some much needed relief from the straining against them.
“I need you,” he replies. “I really, really fucking need you.”
“Awww, Joey,” you coo again. “Do you want your best little roommate to sit on your fat cock?”
He blinks up at you, his eyes still blown out. “We can stop if you’re not comfortable…” he breathes.
And you kiss him again, another little peck and you shift so you can help hug tug his suit trousers down to his ankles and you can shed your panties away from your sopping wet cunt. You kiss him again and rub yourself against him, rubbing your wetness against his cock, angry and hard and red at the tip.
“Please,” he moans. “Please I just… I really fucking… please. Please. Baby.” he breathes out.
Baby? Fuck.
You grip him, holding him in place as you slide down him, maintaining eye contact as you can do, your mouth falling open at the stretch of him. Fuck, you’d only said his cock was fat to tease him, to inflate his ego but it wasn’t a lie. You let out a whimper as you bottom out on him.
And then you move your hips and you ride him.
You ride him hard.
He moans and whines and whimpers and pants and you love how fucking vocal he is and you firmly plant your mouth on his as you use him for your own pleasure, little whimpers still fall from him into your mouth and you cry out into his.
He feels so fucking good.
And you’re slightly worried you’re going to break the couch.
He pulls away from the kiss, gasping out for air and looks you straight into the eyes. “You feel so fucking good,” he whimpers out. “Use me baby… fuck… this cock is yours, use it. Please. Use me. Fuck.” You buck against him, you arch your back again.
You’re almost there. You need a little something though.
You grab Joe’s hand and bring it down towards where your bodies meet. “Rub my clit, Joey.” you say simply.
And he does as he’s told, rubbing two fingers against it, fast and hard. He alternates between kissing you and babbling at you about how his cock is yours. “You’re getting close,” he breathes out. “I can feel you getting tighter… milking me…” he pants. “But I’m not gonna cum, I’m not gonna cum until you tell me to. Until you tell me I can.”
“Such a good boy, Joey.” you tell him.
His hand falls from your clit.
“Again.” He demands, his hands gripping your sides. “Say it again?”
“You’re a good boy?”
Oh.
Fuck.
OH FUCK.
“I’m your good boy,” he breathes out. “I’m your good fucking boy.” It’s like those were the magic words and he absolutely looses it. He holds onto your sides, taking control back from you and fucking up into you hard and fast and rough and you could scream at how good it feels. Your own fingers find your clit and you rub in frantic circles, so close… you need to get there now. “I’m your good boy.”
“Joe… fuck…” white hot pleasure rips through your being as you fall apart around him. You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard in your life. And it’s fucking Joe that’s got you there?! “Joey, fuck… fuck… you can cum… you can cum.”
“Yeah?” Joe breathes out, still slamming into you with no remorse. “Do you want your good boy to cum inside you?”
“I want my good boy to cum!”
The noise that rips from the back of his throat is almost feral and he’s so vocal, so fucking vocal and you feel him pulsing inside of you, filling you with ribbons of white. Well, this isn’t something you ever expected to happen, but here we go. Your mouth finds his and you kiss him again.
Joe flops back against the couch, breathing heavily, his eyes aren’t really in focus, he doesn’t reply when you ask if he’s okay so you decide to give him a moment. You waddle to the bathroom -- how sexy -- to clean yourself up and he’s still not moved when you get back, so you pull his boxers up as far as they’ll go and he finally shifts to help you.
“You with me?”
“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Holy fuck, that was intense.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours and you smile into the kiss. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I think whoever styles you for that event tomorrow is gonna wanna kill me though.” You let out a little giggle.
He looks confused for a second and then reaches out and touches his neck. “Ah.” He says. “Fuck. Oh well, that’s tomorrows problem. Do you want to order a pizza and watch a really bad movie?”
“Sounds good.”
He stands from the couch. “Cool.I’ll order your favourite. Lets watch it in my room though, yeah? In my bed? I’m a bit knackered.”
Wait, sorry, I remember you reblogged the Chrissy's grades post, they were 8th grade transcripts?
Yup! Here it is. Notice underneath her grades, where it says “07/17/82 Gr09.” And above that, her enrollment date says “9/4/82.” If she started 9th grade in September of 82, that aligns with her being due to graduate in spring of 86. So for those grades to be available a month before her high school enrollment, they must’ve been her 8th grade marks.
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