#gentle eddie munson

[sp0o0kylights]

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

#DADDYS BACK #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #pre steddie to steddie #0o0 fanfics #be gentle with me I JUST got my computer back lmao #this was a warmup I finished out #Ive been writing at work on my lunches #yes I have been working on adopt a jock #and the third part of the holiday hellfire fic #I think I stared at that steddisy one once #maybe #IDK this whole ass month has been a blurr

[loveinhawkins]

While he’s still not recovered enough to play the guitar, Eddie takes up writing again. He uses a scrappy notebook, nothing special: to start with, it’s more a record of his handwriting slowly becoming clearer; gripping the pen, moving it across the page, no longer seems such a daunting task.

And look, it’s not like he’s Shakespeare here, somehow churning out masterpieces from a hospital bed. Sometimes he’s just doodling, flooding the margins with black ink until it bleeds through to the other side, looping spirals over and over for no reason—or maybe just to prove that he can.

He always keeps the notebook close by: folded over, the spine broken so it can rest propped up on the bedside cabinet. Sometimes he forgets, has to quickly put it under the sheets if he’s still writing whenever a nurse comes in.

He doesn’t know what he’s afraid of them seeing, exactly. Just remembers the fear of middle school—a boy ripping his notebook out of his hands and just laughing at Eddie’s desperate attempts to get it back.

It had been a lesson—to not be careless. To not leave pieces of himself lying around for others to handle.

Gradually, he fills more and more pages. Diary entries emerge in between mindless scribbles, and they help even if he’s not ready for talking about March yet, not even to himself.

He painstakingly logs conversations had during visiting hours; just focusing on one word leading into the next is calming, helps bring him out of his head. He’s got whole pages devoted to Wayne’s birdwatching, and actual full-blown diagrams thanks to Robin Buckley filling him in on obscure band kid drama.

On nights when his heart races for no apparent reason, he stays up writing—usually drifts off to sleep by the afternoon, notebook slipping through his ink-stained fingers.

He stirs awake on one such day, and he doesn’t know why until he hears the rustle of pages, the gentle thunk of something being set down.

His notebook.

“Did you look?” he murmurs, more asleep than awake. Maybe that’s why he asks: time is strange in dreams, long buried fears drifting up to the surface.

“No.”

And Eddie manages to open his eyes just enough to see Steve standing by his bed. He’s neatly set the notebook in its usual place on the cabinet, except he’s shut it so the edges don’t curl up all that much.

“No, I didn’t look. Eddie, that’s yours, okay?” Steve says softly, but no less serious for it.

And Eddie wonders if there’s more to the pages he’s filled, even the scribbles—if he’s revealed more of himself than he thought.

“You can if you want,” Eddie mumbles into the pillow.

“Shh. Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t mind if it’s you,” Eddie says. He reaches for words, clumsy with drowsiness, and he surprises himself with what he says, but he finds that he means it. Feels it, so certainly. “Want… want you to see.”

The thought would’ve been terrifying years ago.

But this isn’t middle school, and he trusts Steve Harrington with his heart.

#i just love slow gentle healing and recovery #slowly trusting slowly falling in love #pre steddie #eddie munson ficlet #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

[imma-devil]

Whole Lotta Love | e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: 18+ Smut (MINORS DNI), Weed, Swearing

Summary: Eddie admires you and that admiration brought you from acquaintances to close friends. However, the two of you know that you feel something more. The question is, are you going to do something about it?

Tags: No use of (y/n), mentions of weed, swearing, pining, somewhat established friendship, a little friends to lovers, smut, some fluff, sub!Eddie, shy Eddie, gentle!dom!reader, oral (male!receiving), oral (female!receiving), handjob, spit as lube, grinding, dry humping, making out, face sitting :) , thighssss, biting, slight choking (male!receiving), consent is hot, aftercare is hot, hands free ;) , little proofreading.

Word count: 3,800+

Author’s Note: I was having a difficult time finding what I was looking for, so I just said “Fuck it,” and made my own.

Part 2

Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work everything besides the character belongs to me. 

Eddie Munson was considered a freak among his classmates at Hawkins High. Generally, one would expect that this perception came from his loud outbursts in the hallways or when he stood on top of desks to announce his opinions to the world. However, people took one look at his zeppelin style with rings adorned on each finger and his hair cast in untempered curls to make their opinion. He didn’t worry himself over these misconceptions for the most part because he believed it was out of his control. At first, after his buzz cut days, he turned to the ‘rocker’ look to hopefully turn this around; when his results seemed to be lacking, he wielded his sense of style as a statement and wore it proudly once he grew further into his non-conformist attitude. But what he didn’t get, was why was it so different when it came to you? Your sense of style nearly mirrored his own―ripped jeans, ribbed shirts with faded band logos, jean jackets, and leather boots. Chains chimed while you walked. Your nails, plastered in a veil of black ink. You too had small tattoos that cascaded your skin. Yet, people were not nearly as unwelcoming as they were when it came to him. 

You weren’t exponentially popular—you were no king Steve, Tommy H, or Chrissy Cunningham. But, you were well-liked―and you weren’t treated like the plague as often as he was. He had seen you laugh with band ‘geeks’ and have your arms around cheerleaders. He watched you jokingly argue with those on the basketball team and read quietly with members of the high school post. Yet, most often, he saw you alone. 

The two of you weren’t friends, but you’ve certainly spoken before. In a small town, such as Hawkins, it would be impossible not to. But, you hadn’t spoken out of necessity―you had actually mingled. The first time you spoke was in elementary school, likely about something minuscule, like him asking you for a pencil. The first time you spoke in HIGH SCHOOL was when you caught him by surprise at his locker. You just happened to be passing by when you turned on your heel and got his attention. You complimented his Hellfire Club shirt and asked where he got it from―

Fleeting conversations were passed here and there. But, once the two of you started hanging out at the same scene together, puzzle pieces began to fall into place. Your friendship grew over the passing of joints... Cassettes were exchanged. Movies were watched. He wore one of your engraved rings on his pinky and you wore his blocky, metallic ring on your index finger. You helped him study for exams, listened to the recordings of his band, and smoked with him inside his trailer. Long, deep conversations were held atop his mattress while listening to Megadeth, Judas Priest, and Motorhead on his stereo.

―and it was that exact setting, which led you to where you were now. A beat-up, paperback copy of Doctors Wear Scarlett by Simon Raven was in your hand while you laid with your back to the mattress. Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin was playing through the stereo’s strained and garbled speakers... not that you could really make out the words―because Eddie was purposefully shouting over the lyrics in a whiny voice while plucking at the strings of his guitar. Every once in a while, he would chuckle at his own antics and lose composure, causing you to laugh along as well. For the majority of the song, you were too amused with Eddie’s singing that you simply mumbled along with the lyrics so that you could listen. But, you grew distracted and somewhat bored of the book and allowed yourself to belt out some of the lyrics in synch with the wild boy next to you. This almost instantly shut him up to where he abandoned his yelling so he could try and sing in tune with you. You shut your eyes and swayed your head into the lyrics while dramatizing your enthusiasm for the song. Eddie watched as your nose scrunched with your singing and he couldn’t help but smile at the observation. 

He cast his hand over your face and gingerly placed his thumb upon your nose, using it to press your nose into a pig-like shape. 

Instinctively you smacked his hand away, laughing lightly at the situation. 

He watched as you placed your book down on the bed and rolled onto your stomach. Your eyes fell on the place where he was sitting up against the bedpost―and the position caused him to feel increasingly more self-aware. 

“Play something,” you said through a slanted smirk. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie teased while looking down, “―you put me on the spot here.”

“C’mon rockstar!” you egged on after playfully shoving his leg, “I wanna hear a song.”

Eddie hoisted himself up to where he sat straighter against the headboard and hovered his hand over the strings with lingering anticipation. After a moment’s hesitation, he began plucking the strings without tune or rhythm, occasionally adding in made-up lyrics along the way. 

When your face fell into the mattress in a faux annoyance, he stuttered into a laugh. 

You muttered out “Dumbass,” which was muffled by the comforter. But, Eddie was only amused by the empty insults. He eventually lowered his guitar to where it rested against his bedside table. With nothing left to do with his hands, he found himself twirling your ring on his finger. 

A whole song played without either of the teens speaking any words into existence. You had spent those two minutes drifting your attention between the lyrics, the sound of a tv from across the lot, and the movements of the ring on Eddie’s finger. You registered that the ring was yours, but to confirm it, you reached out and stilled the motion of his hand with your own. With his skin beneath yours, you maneuvered his hand to take a closer look at the ring... and sure enough, it was yours. In a show of camaraderie, you curled your fingers into a fist to display his ring that was donned on your index finger. But, when you looked up to gauge his expression, you found the face of a man that seemed to be absolutely enthralled by your being. You were well aware that your feelings for one another were beyond friendship; whether those feelings were lust, or something more, was beyond you. If someone were to ask why you didn’t act on those feelings sooner―you wouldn’t be able to give a definitive answer. Perhaps, you wanted to preserve the friendship that you shared? However, since the opportunity presented itself, why not just take it?

So, with his hand still being held within yours, you lowered it to the mattress at his side. Your arm was crossed over his waist, and you used the momentum to pull yourself to a crouch with your face hovering over his. You paced yourself, allowing him plenty of time to reject the action. Though, you doubt he would, considering the way that his eyes are glued to yours with a sense of desperation and longing that's swirling within his irises. You ask anyway—

“Do you want this?” you spoke in a voice that was low and languid, but loud enough to be heard with clarity. 

Eddie nodded with the slightest movement, which could’ve gone unnoticed. 

With your face creeping closer to his, you watch as his gaze falls to your lips. “I need you to say it,” you whisper as tenderly as you can muster. 

He shudders a breathy sigh before emitting a barely audible “...yes.” You watch as if he retracts in embarrassment. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and his eyes flit away for a moment. 

Just as you close the distance, he grinds down on his bottom lip with his teeth in a display of control―as if he were reeling himself back in. But, then that same ferocity is transferred into the kiss that you share. You breathe him in for a moment, regaining control, as you force him to slow to your pace. You can feel his neediness through the quickening of his breath while his hand comes up to cup your cheek. His fingertips tease slightly at the hair on your neck. Eddie’s other arm hooks around the small of your back, subsequently pulling you close to where you sit on his lap. All the while, your lips work together and you feel the passing touches of your tongues as you lap at his muffled moans. Drawing each sound from his mouth is as easy as it is bringing a pencil to paper. 

Your hand breaks away from the mattress to glide lightly across his skin. Traveling up his arm, pausing slightly to appreciate the rise of his chest, and slowing to a stop in order to caress the base of his neck. He cranes forward, seeking out your touch. A moan falls from his lips as you snug his neck further into your gasp; causing you to make a blissful sound as you quickly latch a kiss to his jaw. Apparently, the spot is sensitive, as he ruts up into you.

“Sorry,” He quickly apologizes. But, the eagerness of his words allowed him no time to adjust... so his voice came out weak and desperate. 

Rather than give him a worded reply, you simply reciprocated the action. Using your hips, you rolled yourself onto the growing bulge in his tight jeans. Eddie’s response was a choked gasp, that he promptly muffled by clasping his teeth onto your shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Eddie uttered into your shoulder with shaky fluctuations. 

You repeated the action, enjoying how he pressed his face further into the crook of your neck. 

You pushed away some of his curls, to further reveal the expanse of his exposed neck. Peppering it with kisses, each one growing wetter and more lasting, before you finally sucked on the pulse beneath his skin. Eddie was beginning to meet your hips with perfectly timed, slow thrusts... and he resigned himself to becoming a moaning mess. So instead of hiding his pleasured sounds, he opted to let his mouth hang open and you felt his warm, needy breaths fan against your neck. 

You loved listening to the small curses that drifted along with the air, getting lost in the music from the stereo.

All Eddie could focus on was the heat that was repeatedly grinding against him, your lips and tongue working against his skin, and the buzzing in his ears that was seemingly melting his brain. It was like his senses were going haywire, so all he could do to ground himself was relentlessly nip and kiss at the skin that was available to him. Each time he heard your breath hitch, he grew more desperate and came further undone beneath you. So when you suddenly stopped moving against him, he couldn’t help the whine that was ripped from his throat. 

Before he could plead for you to continue, you whispered with a breathy voice that mirrored his own cracking composure. “Do you want to take this further?”

“Yes!—” the word practically leaped off his tongue and another string of yeses followed, each showing more longing and making you more aware of the ache that he felt. 

You both didn’t seem capable of moving away from one another, but with one look at Eddie’s blown-out pupils, it was like your composure was restored. You prided yourself in the mess that you made him become. So, despite the damp and seething heat that you felt, you took it slow. So. Very. Slow. 

You popped open the button of your jeans, leaning back on your weight, which in turn caused him to release a groan. You broke away for a moment to remove your pants, in which Eddie did the same in record time. The movement―having caused him to lay down rather than be seated. If it weren’t for the stagnant tension, you would’ve laughed at the way his hands flew to his belt and ripped it from the loops of his jeans. How his fingers launched at his zipper and yanked the fabric from his legs. Once his legs were bare besides his briefs, you mounted his waist again. This time his eyes shot to your underwear and he gingerly slid his hands to your thighs. His unwavering stare should make you nervous, but his unfiltered desire simply goads you on. He hooks both of his thumbs beneath the fabric, pulling it ever-so-slightly to where it tightens into the skin but reveals the bareness of your thighs. It’s as if he’s teasing himself with the glimpse of you, and it's one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

You place your hand on his abdomen just above his waist, and he jolts at the sudden stimulation. He looks up at you and nearly swoons at the smirk on your face. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was blushing—so he rests his arm over his face to hide whatever embarrassment that could be seen in his features. But it quickly becomes a way to control himself when you slip your fingers beneath his shirt and grind your nails up his skin. The further you reach, the more you lean on his throbbing cock, and once again his breath is picking up, and he doubts you haven’t noticed. 

Your hand lingers for a moment, traveling along his chest, applying pressure to just the right places, before it comes back down. Slowly trailing down his torso and reaching his lower stomach. He thought you’d stop there, but your fingers hook in the seam of his briefs and he could swear that he stopped breathing. And, just while he was so focused on the left hand, your right comes up his leg in a gentle caress. The very tip of your nails, skim the sensitive area of his inner thigh and he flinches. You chuckle at the reaction―and instantly Eddie becomes simultaneously the horniest and most humiliated person alive. He buries his face deeper into the curl of his arm to the point where he could suffocate himself if he wished and strongly grips your thigh in his other hand. He can’t see you, but he feels it when you lift yourself off of him and sit further down his legs. The movement distracts him, so when you palm him through his briefs, he hisses into his arm. He grinds up to meet your hand as you hear him sigh into the motion―and he’s too caught up in the one sensation that he still lingers on it, even as you pull down his waistband. His dick springs forward to land against his abdomen, where you hear a damp slap from the precum that’s weeping from the tip; which is an angry pink, begging to be touched. 

Eddie wouldn’t lie, he definitely felt a little shy at the fact that he was so exposed to the girl that he had been crushing on for longer than he could remember. He had admired you from afar for so long. When you became friends, he never expected that the two of you would be here—even with the constant flirting, it had only ever been a game. So, with his face still tucked in his arm, he moved it the slightest bit so that he could see you through a space where he’d still be hidden from view. 

He watched as you took one finger, and pressed it into the leaking liquid. When you pulled it away, a string of it followed... and he throbbed when he saw you take the fluid into your mouth. He moaned in anticipation as he watched you swipe your hand with your tongue—and the moan only grew when you brought that same hand to his cock. With one pump, you brought your hand to the base and his hips slowly coiled up to meet the friction. With your other hand, you pushed against his waist to bring him back down to the bed, and he groaned defiantly. 

His eyes gave you their undivided attention when you hovered your face, lined up with him in your hand. He watched with an unbroken stare as a dribble of spit fell from your mouth and the warm texture coated his dick. His mouth lay open in a silent moan, which was revitalized as soon as your hand was set into motion. Your name tumbled from his lips, abandoned at the last syllable because his voice was lost in a whine. His neck strained backward and he revealed his face from behind his arm because he used it to card his fingers through his hair. 

You pumped in slow movements, twisting your grip at the head, sounding lewd noises, which worked harmoniously with his haggard breaths. Each time your hand hooked beneath the head, his core muscles twitched, creating a wonderful sight to play witness to. Eddie still tried to fuck into your hand, but his pleasurable moans turned into frustrated ones when your other hand kept him from doing so. He closed his eyes for a moment to bask in the sensation—but quickly made himself vulnerable when you ran your tongue up the underside of his cock in one fluid movement. His whole body jolted and he gasped—turning into a string of low, breathy moans when you took him into your mouth. You continued to stroke the base of him with your hand—loving the sounds that emitted from him. 

“Ugh— God,” he groaned with his eyes screwed shut. His voice hollowed to whisper, “...Just like that.”

Eddie lost himself for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his ring-clad hand, and letting his fingers clasp in a tuff of his curly hair. But, by sheer force of will, he clung on to any senses that he could find.

“...wait.” he croaked, “Wait—don’t!”

You slowed to a stop, then pulled him from your mouth with a questioning and concerned gaze. “What’s wrong?”

With the most unconvincing voice ever, Eddie groaned out: “I don’t wanna cum.”

His eyes were shut in both pleasure and an attempt at self-control. One of his hands reached out in your direction, searching for you. You were caught up in the sight of his heavy rising chest, but you met his touch with your hand. You could feel his gentle pull, and you realized that he wanted you to move with him. You followed his guiding tug to sit on his chest—and you were about voice your confusion until he lifted you to sit above his face in one, unexpected display of strength. 

“I want you,” He said, finally opening his eyes for you to see that his brown irises were cast over fully in a dark shadow of lust. His eyes were lidded, his eyelashes long and far too pretty that you didn’t catch yourself before you brushed over them with your thumb. 

Eddie pulled on your panties, though not fully, still awaiting your permission. 

“Go ahead, pretty boy...” You smiled warmly down at the pussy whipped man beneath you. 

He hummed in approval before tugging your panties aside. You could feel him rut up into nothing, just by seeing you. Both of his arms embraced your thighs, where he guided you into a snug seat upon his face. He lapped at your heat, groaning at the taste, before all but burying his tongue into you. His tongue moved at a steady pace, curling inside of you; his own hips thrusting in a synchronized motion while his imagination substituted his tongue for his throbbing dick. You could feel the vibrations of his moans and occasional curses. The fact that he was feeling so much while treating you was charging the neural impulses in your brain; each shuddering breath, each moan, each whine, and each crane of his hips was making his tongue feel all the better. Moans started to pool out from you with each sound that he made—

He was riding on the high of his brain melting while he laid between your thighs; and he thought that if you moved just a little closer, he would float on the welcomed lack of oxygen. Which is why he used his arms to press himself into you, the veins beneath his skin straining to keep you close. He could just barely feel the waistband of his briefs against the base of his aching cock, and he searched desperately for any friction while he rutted up against the fabric. He thought of how you’d feel, engulfing him within your warmth, holding you close as he spent himself inside of you. His eyes rolled in the back of his head just thinking about it.

“Eddie—” You said with a voice that was breathy, yet filled with grit. “I’m close.”

His hips stuttered with those two words.

You jolted into a moan—which was low and drawled out like a purr—His name on your tongue and your fingers tangled in Eddie’s hair. You came to, just in time to see Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head as he lapped up what you had to offer. 

When he finally unlatched himself from you, his breath was coming out in loud pants. It took you a moment to notice the ashamed look in his eyes, but once you did, you immediately took action. 

Rising away from his face slightly, you took his cheek in your hand. “Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, instead, he gave a guilty smile and turned into the side of your thigh as if to peek out from behind it. 

You were about to fully get up so you could grant him some space, but he promptly held you in place. You began to notice that he was blushing—the tip of his visible ear was turning bright pink and his cheeks were dusted in the same shade. Somehow, it clicked for you... 

“...Did you— cum?” You asked, pausing to allow a smile to creep onto your face. 

Eddie simply buried his face further—this time, causing his hair to cover the remnants of his face that your thigh could not. 

You could tell, he felt embarrassed and somewhat self-conscious about what had happened. So, rather than teasing him about it, which you would definitely do in a less sensitive situation, you coddled him a bit. Leaning down, you placed a feather-light kiss on the top of his head. When he remained hidden, you kiss him again...and again...and again... and eventually, he was coaxed out of his shell. 

“I think it’s hot,” you cooed through a smirk.

Eddie groaned, smooshing his face as he rubbed it with his hands. Remnants of a blush, still strong on his skin. 

“―like really... really hot” You grinned, kissing the hand that covered his face.

He groaned again, though you could tell he was smiling. 

After a slight pause, you reached forward and gripped each of his hands in one of your own before clearing them from his face. You held them down above his head and gazed lovingly into his eyes...His eyes still reflected insecurity, but you met his lips with yours, hoping to convey your feelings in a warm kiss. He did his best to intertwine his fingers with yours, smiling when he felt your rings clink together. 

#eddie munson #stranger things #friends to lovers #smut #female!reader #reader imagine #dom!reader #gentle dom #dom/sub #sub!eddie munson #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[robbie-verse]

so like most probably steve's parents didnt let him have pets at all ('they would ruin the house in no time, steven, drop it') BUT i wholeheartedly believe that sometimes some cats wander into his property as cats do and he always feeds them and picks out names for them and imagine his smile and the warmth that settles in his chest when he sees some of those kitties coming back and slowly trusting him,,,

he still doesnt let them come into the house, too afraid,, but he cant ignore the warm feeling of having some company, even if shortlived, whenever he comes home

now don't think about how most probably eddie did the same with some strays around the trailer park and absolutely do not think about how once steddie get together, one day, they see a kitty meowling from steve's yard and he gets up from where he was cuddling his bf, with a soft smile on his face

'oh, it's paws!'

'stevie, baby, what are u talking about, that's sabbath'

#i just !!!! #steve was so alone #and the idea that he at least have SOMETHING waiting for him at home makes me soft #also steddie soulmates #gentle soulmates #steddie #steddie hc #steve harrington #steve harrington hc #eddie munson #eddie munson hc #robbie headcanons and fics !

[amethyst-crowns]

still thinking of @azrielgreen ‘s Eddie / Little Bit

WIP

#WIP #i draw things #You’re Divine lives in my head rent fucking free #like really might reread her soon #for as much as i love this fic i have drawn a criminally low percentage of fanart dedicated to it #you’re divine eddie #Little Bit my precious little monster #i want to cradle you in my hands so gentle #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson

[strangergraphics-archive]

snapshots of eddie - spring 1986

#eddie munson edit #eddie munson #I’ve never made anything like this before pls be gentle with me #eddie munson snapshot series ✨

[missingexaltation]

How Eddie wins over Mr Harrington (by barely trying)

(in ten simple-ish steps)

Basically, how I imagine Steve's dad to be. I kind of think they have more in common than they don't, and maybe his son being queer is the *kick* that he needs to be a better human being (just like Nancy was for Steve).

Richard Harrington unexpectedly comes home from a business trip to find his son in flagrante delicto on his couch with an immediately antagonistic young man, (Edward, he later discovers), he waits in the kitchen, seething with disappointment and rage. Steven takes his things and leaves without a word, leaving the Munson boy to very purposefully throw Steven's house key at Richard's feet, keeping eye contact as he does so. The disrespect is blinding, and that night Richard drowns his anger in whiskey.

Days later his son comes home to collect his remaining belongings, supported by the Munson boy and his uncle. Wayne Munson is a enigma; on the one hand, clearly a soft liberal, but also a no-nonsense, sensible veteran with family values. Edward doesn't acknowledge Richard at all, too focused on guarding Steven from him. He watches his son cry like a child in the backseat, half listens as Wayne encourages him to keep in contact, and inwardly flinches when he sees Edward glare at him through the car window. He's not sure why his chest aches. Steven chose this path, he tells himself. Steven chose this.

Richard returns again to Hawkins, some weeks later, detouring past the store his son works in. He finds himself parked opposite, watching as Steven dances childishly with a female colleague through the shop windows. He's smiling and laughing and Richard's chest aches again. The passenger door opens and that boy gets in without permission. 'Stevie doesn't need you', he says, bold as brass in leather and covered in tattoos and chains, 'but he'll forgive you if you ask'. It hurts, and the only way Richard can breathe again is to invite them both to dinner later in the week. The subtle relief on Edward's face is immediate, and Richard hates himself a little less, though he's not sure why. He spends the drive home wondering at what point his son's life became unknowable.

Dinner starts awkwardly. Steven barely speaks, but Edward refuses to be quiet. He's a vocal young man, argumentative and strangely principled. They have polar opposite opinions on politics, and while Edward's not shy about his opinions, Richard is more than his equal on the topic. It's the sort of conversation Richard enjoys, trading viewpoints and internalising their differences. The evening ends on a warmer note as both Steven and Edward shake his hand as they leave. Formal. It's only a few steps to the car, but he notes that the boys hold hands nonetheless, as his wife tightly holds his. Middle ground, he thinks. They're not condoning the relationship of course, but accepting it for now. There's time for Steven to come to his senses.

Richard next meets Edward when he has to visit Thatcher's. His driver side tyre has a slow puncture, and although Edward's working on another customer's car he swaps with a colleague so he can see what the issue is. A simple 'he's Stevie's dad' gets him a family discount, and Edward changes the tyre himself when it's deemed too damaged to repair. As he works, Richard learns through his unending monologue that this job is temporary, as Edward's internship at the tattoo parlour doesn't pay, and won't for at least another year, that he needs the money now, as he and Steven are saving for their own place. Richard's immediate instinct is to give them the money himself, but knows it wouldn't be accepted. He takes comfort that Steven's in good hands at least. The Munsons seem to be a practical, friendly people.

Weeks later, when he's back in Hawkins again, he bumps into Edwards uncle, who's insistent on getting coffee and clearing the air. Richard guiltily confesses he's not comfortable with the idea of his son being one of them, that he's not sure he ever will be. Wayne simply points out that at least he's trying, and to keep trying. Apparently Edward's father didn't even do that much. Richard later relays the encounter to his wife, of how overtly proud Wayne is of Edward (my Eddie, he'd said). Richard's not felt proud of Steven for a few years now, only infuriated that he's intent on throwing his life away, but Wayne had plenty of happy stories of him too. As parents, they feel equally guilty and spend the evening drinking and reminiscing on Steven's childhood. It feels like they're reminding themselves of their son more with every day that passes.

He's still in town on the following Tuesday evening, and decides to take Wayne up on his offer and visit the bar that he recommended. He discovers that Edward's a talented musician. Even if it's far too aggressive and loud for Richard's own tastes, there's dedication, commitment and passion in each of the boys on the stage. He remembers his own music idols, how passionately they preached against the war in Vietnam, and he wonders when exactly it was that he stopped noticing the injustices of the world, when it was that his business suits became a comfort instead. He's quickly cornered by Wayne, Jim Hopper and David Jones ('my son's on the drums', he says, proudly). But they're all proud of their boys, he adds, and equally appalled by their music tastes. He goes on to say that the parents take it in turns to keep an eye on the boys each week, after what happened earlier in the year. Richard's in utter shock after hearing that there was a murderer on the loose not long ago, and plans to stay in town more after hearing that both boys were involved. He's clearly out of place and out of touch, but they're kind enough to not mention it. He buys the drinks for the remainder of the night, as penance. He has nothing else to offer, but hopes that's enough to start. His son could have died.

As is habit now, when he's in town, Richard drives past the video store to glimpse his son through the window. Further down the street he catches Edward balancing takeaway coffees whilst trying to open the door to the tattoo parlour. It takes moments to pull over and offer his assistance, and it hurts when Edward is surprised by the gesture. Richard's invited into the shop, and although Edward's busy, 'of course he has time for his father in law'. The phrase knocks him emotionally off balance, but Edward doesn't notice, simply updating him on their house hunt, and inviting them to the house warming, pending Stevie's approval. He shakes Edward's hand when he leaves, and when he turns back to his car, notices Steven quietly watching him from the window of his store. He waves, and after a moment his son waves back. He's alive, and there's hope, at least.

He and Kathleen invite the boys and Wayne over for dinner. He sees Steven smiling in the car as they arrive, and although it's faded by the time Richard opens the door, it returns tenfold when he shakes Edward's hand and greets him with 'hello son'. Richard's still very much uncomfortable (especially with how 'hands on' Edward seems to be) and if he finds himself in the kitchen knocking back a few more drinks than usual then it's his own business. It's worth it at the end of the night, when Steven invites them to their housewarming, and actually seems to want them there. He feels Wayne's approval through their goodbye handshake, and it makes him feel as though he's on the right path.

Jim Hopper lets them in through the front door. It's a small house, clean and characterless, and full of people Richard doesn't know. In the yard, Steven's at the grill with some other boys his age, and Edward is in the middle of the lawn, spinning a curly-haired teenager around like he weighs nothing. They look happy. Settled. Edward spots them first, waves them over and starts introducing them to the other adults. Steven brings them drinks, is beaming behind his sunglasses. (He can't remember the last time Steven smiled at him.) Hours later, when they leave, Edward shakes his hand and thanks them for coming (for trying, but that's unspoken), and Steven hugs him for the first time in so, so long, burying his head in Richard's shoulder like he used to as a child. Kathleen cries on the drive home, and he's not much better, but they're happy tears. He's a slow learner, Kathy too, but they're learning.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #i dunno...i just like the idea that both Steve and his dad are passively bigoted until their beliefs are challenged...then they change #season 1!Steve was an ass...if he hadn't had his lightbulb moment he could have ended up just like his parents IMO #Eddie is the catalyst...the opposite of what Mr Harrington stands for & challenges every one of Mr Harrington's principles just by existing #might actually write this one out long style as i have so many thoughts #wayne munson #Wayne Munson carefully 'gentle parenting' the Harringtons is also kinda hilarious ngl #tw: mild homophobia #i also don't know why Richard fits...maybe because it's usually shortened to 'Dick' and he really does seem like one in canon

[thornsnvultures]

Imagining Eddie bringing dice to the bedroom with different rolls corresponding to different sex acts and body parts.

He's all excited and you're kind of nervous but along for the ride. He keeps rolling stuff like: "lick eyes", "spank hair", "whisper into feet", and gets kinda frustrated and discouraged cause all the rolls are weird and dumb.

"I'm sorry, babe. This was stupid."

Before he can retreat into himself you're pulling him towards you with his face in your hands.

"Close your eyes."

Once he does you move closer, rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones as you admire his long eyelashes. Ever so gently you press a kiss to his lips, his button nose, his rosy, flushed cheeks, until finally your tongue pokes out and lightly runs across his closed eyelids.

It's definitely strange but this close you can feel his shuddering breath on your chest. His ringed fingers tighten on your hips and tug you closer until your seated in his lap.

"Oh," he sighs as you lick the other eye. Satisfied, you press more wet kisses to his brow before nuzzling into the soft nest of curls atop his head.

He's firm under you, hot and hard, yet Eddie's shaking like a leaf.

"I don't know if I can spank your hair, but of you have anything you'd like to say to my feet you're more than welcome."

Eddie chuckles, jostling you with his laughter. You lean back and hold his face again, smiling as you wipe at the wetness that gathers at the corners of his big, brown eyes.

"How'd they taste?"

"Like the eyeliner you wore at the show last night."

"Oh, yum."

"I'm kidding. You, Eddie. They just taste like you. I'll put my tongue wherever you want."

"I know you will, nasty." He grabs you tight around the waist and nips at your jaw, pressing kisses into the spot by your ear that makes you gasp and your toes curl.

"Now, lemme see them toes, baby. I got some secrets to tell." You shriek as he throws you back on the bed and pounces on you, grabbing at your sock covered feet.

#had a silly thought pop in my head and had to write it down lol #inspired by that bit from the simpsons #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson deserves all the gentle affection in the world #my fics

[stevethehairington]

It's early in the morning, but Steve is awake. He's sitting at their tiny little table in their tiny little kitchen, still in his rumpled pajamas with his robe tied around his waist. There's a cup of hot, fresh coffee in front of him, but he's almost forgotten about it as he gets lost in looking out the window.

Their yard is a tiny little thing too, but it's teeming with life, even at this hour. A squirrel scampers across the grass. A butterfly flutters past the glass. A couple of birds chase each other through the sky.

It's going to be a good day, he can tell.

He hears Eddie before he feels him as he pads softly into the kitchen and comes up behind Steve. He presses in close, leans forward against Steve's back, and puts his hands on either one of Steve's shoulders, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against the bare skin at the crook of his neck.

Steve melts back into Eddie, tilts his head until it rests against the middle of Eddie's sternum, and he smiles — this soft, sweet thing that rivals the first rays of morning sun that stream through the window.

Steve's hand comes up to catch Eddie's, stealing it away from his shoulder so he can tangle their fingers and squeeze.

Eddie ducks his head down, to meet Steve halfway. His own smile paints itself across his face, and he dips in to steal an upside down kiss. His free hand moves from Steve's shoulder to cradle the curve of his jaw.

When they pull apart, Eddie kisses Steve's chin. Then his cheek. Then his nose. Then his forehead. Then he ruffles Steve's hair and separates himself from his side to make himself a cup of coffee.

Steve's left the pot for him, so all he has to do is pour his mug. Add some sugar. A splash of cream. Give it a stir.

He joins Steve at the table. Slides into the chair across from him and immediately hooks their ankles beneath. Then he puts his hand on the table, palm up — an invitation.

Steve accepts easily. Quickly. Places his own palm into Eddie's and their fingers lace.

They smile at each other from behind their coffee mugs.

Yeah, it's going to be a good day.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #idk feelin soft about these two <3 #gentle mornings and tender hand holding <3 #mack writes #macks ficlets

[livwritesstuff]

for those who have never lived in a rural area, there’s a certain level of cohabitation with the wildlife that sort of comes with the territory.

Steve and Eddie live in a fairly rural town in my steddie!dads ‘verse, so I’ve been thinking about how they would feel about this.

Steve is mostly neutral about it. He likes the bird feeders they have scattered throughout the yard, and does his best to learn how to identify all the different species so he can point them out to their daughters, and he thinks the owls that live in the woods behind their house are neat, but other than that, he doesn’t really pay all that much attention to it.

Eddie, on the other hand, fucking loves it, thinks it’s the coolest thing in the world, so much so that it actually becomes a source of stress for Steve.

There’s a possum who comes to their back porch for food that Eddie christened Alonzo and is adored as practically another member of the family. It disappeared for a while and they were all convinced it had died until one day it suddenly was back and snuffling around the porch. Ed and the girls threw a welcome home party complete with a hastily-made banner they taped to the door so he could see it.

Eddie would happily get chickens if not for the fox that lives in their backyard (in his words, “the fox was there first”).

Once, when Hazel is a baby, Eddie takes her on a walk around the neighborhood and comes home to see that a hawk had flown into the porch and gotten its talons stuck in the screen door. He looks at it for a second, decides it’s stunned from the impact, closes Hazel in the car parked in the driveway, and then helps the bird out. Doesn’t get gloves or anything, just bare-hands it and gets the bird unstuck. He’s correct about it being stunned because once it's free, it kinda just collapses on the porch. After a little bit, it flies away. Steve finds out about this a month later and flips out (“Sorry, was the last time you got gutted by flying wildlife not enough for you or something?” are his exact words).

When Moe is a teenager and starting to learn about all the ways the Earth is falling to pieces, she finds out that native bee populations are dwindling. Eddie is equally upset to learn about this, so they tag team planting native flowers around their yard. This is the same summer they learn that Robbie is allergic to bees.

Steve comes home one day to see Eddie fully conversing with a juvenile screech owl perched on the rafters of their front porch.

Eddie: So glad you’re here.

Eddie: But

Eddie: We have a cardinal family and a blue jay family

Eddie: They’re off limits.

Eddie: Rats, mice, insects, vermin – go to town on those fuckers.

Eddie: Do not touch my cardinals or my blue jays. Got it?

Steve:

Steve: Don’t let Moe see that thing

Steve: She’ll think it’s delivering her Hogwarts letter

#moe just turned 11 and school starts in a month and a half #steve is trying to be gentle in explaining that she will be going to her normal school in the fall #steddie #steddie dads #liv’s steddie dads verse #steve harrington #eddie munson

[talesofesther]

beloved ♥

#the prettiest and most gentle eyes honestly <3 #eddie munson #stranger things #strangerthingsedit #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #eddiemunsonedit #stedit #dailystrangerthings #stdaily #usercroft #cinematv #st #my gif #gif

[imma-devil]

I am begging you to write a part two for whole lotta love, the chimestry between leads was INMACULATE and the smut was fire. Sub eddie is love, sub eddie is life

Whole Lotta Love Pt 2 | e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: 18+ Smut (MINORS DNI), swearing, implications of alcohol/weed (not really tho)

Summary: After Eddie and you made the choice to pass the threshold of just being friends, you must figure out where you want to end up. Eddie grapples with insecurities and struggles to voice them. Will the two of you back pedal on your actions or take it a step further? 

Tags: No use of (y/n), Sub!Eddie Munson, Soft!Dom!Reader, some pet names (lover boy, beautiful, etc?), P in V sex, unprotected sex (use protection), contraceptives, creampie, pining, a tad of angst, some emotional hurt/comfort, Soft!Eddie, FLUFFFFFFFFF, Friends to Lovers trope, smut, driving under the influence (don’t do that), a few analogies of drugs/alcohol, some gentle loving that gets heated, slight choking, bites, edging, consent is hot, thighs, leg/thigh riding, hair pulling, finger sucking, riding, cock warming if you squint, barely any proofreading. 

Word count: 5,900+

Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work, everything besides the characters and plot points by the original writers, belongs to me.

After the actions that progressed in the confines of Eddie’s trailer, the two of you spent a little over an hour, listening to music and lying with one another. The both of you were back in your clothes, backs braced against the wall with your arms wrapped around each other. You had helped Eddie clean up, whispering little nothings of admiration and sending him affectionate smiles. 

But, Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet. You could tell it wasn’t necessarily a negative thing. He didn’t seem distraught—or as if he were battling with regret. He snuck you small smiles in response to yours, and his eyes couldn’t seem to meet yours for longer than a few seconds before flitting away to examine the details of his room. Yet, when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d gaze deeply upon your face, as if you were the most-delicately sculpted piece of artwork in the world. You attempted to coax him further into a state of comfort by asking him simple questions; details on Corroded Coffin, and future plans for his DnD campaign...but, Eddie gave uneventful answers; often through stuttered words and a seemingly dry mouth. 

He was aware of the stagnant, odd tension that was fogged in the air. Almost as aware as he was of your eyes on him, which raked over his body with similar enthusiasm to himself. 

The more that time drawled on, the further you were convinced that you should grant him some space.—Which is why you smoothly managed to slip in that you should leave for the night. Eddie didn’t oppose, seeing as it was well into 4 in the morning, and the both of you had a day full of lectures on the horizon. You meandered about for a bit longer before you eventually left, but you couldn’t help but wish to stay. 

He walked you to the door, lingering in the open doorway as he took in the sight of you under the ambient light of the moon. You held back a smile when his leg began to swing in a self-comforting gesture. 

“Drive safely, okay?” Eddie said with a shy grin, his doe eyes centered on you. 

“Unlike you...” You smirked, attempting to reel back in the teasing energy that existed between you. “—I don’t drive like a madman.” 

He huffed out a laugh, leaning forward on his hands, which were pressed on the wall above the door. He subconsciously redirected his gaze to his shoes before emitting a soft, “rude”

You made use of the situation, taking Eddie slightly off-guard by leaning your face in below his bowed head. The movement caused his eyes to shoot to yours with a certain magnetism, causing his skin to erupt from the intangible electricity. 

You gradually raised your posture while keeping your closed distance; Eddie found himself following the flow of movements with his body as if he was lulled into a trance. >>God—how were you doing this to him?<;< 

He was so used to being the one in control of the few relationships he’s had. Even while holding the label of ‘Freak’ at Hawkins High, he still had women who were interested in him before (and men— which he didn’t seem to notice). He remembers having his arm draped over their shoulder, causing them to smile by simply meeting their eyes in a flirtatious stare. Oh, but with you, he felt like the dames- who he basked with his arm over their shoulder. It made him feel like a fool—twiddling his fingers and kicking his feet on his bed. Pink in the face and a love-stricken smile, which made his cheeks sore. With your friendship, there was rarely a moment when you weren’t indulged in a game of tag, ping-ponging flirtations back and forth with little seriousness. He thought he was the only one that craved oh-so-deeply to bring your game to reality... but now that he could see he was wrong, he wasn’t sure he could handle the weight of those implications. The weight, that you practically held his heart in your hands, with the full intention to take it for yourself. 

“Eddie?” you called, pulling him back from the complexities of his swirling thoughts. 

“Hmmm?” He responded in a drowsy voice that sounded like his judgment was clouded in a shroud of intoxication. It made laughter bubble on your lips.

“Where’d you go?” you referenced to him being lost in thought. 

“—Nowhere,” he gave a lopsided smile. “I’m right here.”

You hummed a sound in response before your hand came up to hold one of his loose hanging curls. A huskier sound followed from you right after when Eddie sucked in a breath. 

“...Kiss?” you asked with a growing smile and your tongue teasing at your cheek, finding amusement in the romantic tension. 

“You—” His voice strained before clearing his throat to try again, “... you wanna kiss?”

You nodded, pulling lightly at the curl, watching as it stretched and sprung back into its shape. 

Eddie looked back on his shoulder like he was checking for someone within his home who were to spy on your interaction, but you knew quite well that he was hiding his face away from you so he could retrieve himself again. With his hands still clinging above the doorframe, it only enabled him to shield himself further. 

He could hear your chirp of laughter, undoubtedly smirking ear to ear at him from behind his view... and it only tugged on his heart more. He figured that if you pulled the tension any further, it would snap. 

Eddie suddenly turned back to you, his hair whipping at the movement. He leaned forward to bridge the gap between you, and when you simply smiled and looked into his eyes, he inhaled you in a choked gasp. You teased at his lips with your own in a light caress, allowing him to deepen the kiss. The two of you closed your eyes at the exact moment—and the more that the kiss grew, the further he leaned into you, seeking you out. 

But, in a harmless tease, you backed away at a grueling pace and watched as he continued to progress forward. When he eventually couldn’t move any further without falling from the door, your lips parted with a quiet smack. He looked at you quizzically, his soft eyes, looking impossibly softer. 

“Get some rest lover-boy,” you cooed. “We have class in a few hours.”

His lips parted to speak, but he opted to let the words die on his tongue and he watched you head towards your car with a giddy grin. Even when your car was out of the lot and no longer visible to him, he could still feel the heat in his ears and an uncomfortable-yet-addictive pressure in his chest. 

✝︎

When he saw you at school just a couple hours later, he watched as he caught glimpses of your face amongst the crowd. But, the bell rang, and he lost sight of you—inevitably causing him to fight his desire to speak with you and head to his first-period class. 

The rest of the day was filled with some more of the same—fleeting glances, passing conversations, and lingering want. It wasn’t intentional. He wanted to believe that. But, when granted the chance to speak with you between third and fourth period, he opted out and sought cover in the bathroom with his heart running a mile-per-minute. He wanted to slap himself for running away—but the feeling of his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of you walking his way was too much. He thanks that you hadn’t spotted him, because he isn’t sure if he could handle the agonizing embarrassment of you watching him scramble to the nearest restroom instead of having a simple conversation. 

He hoped that reaction would be contained to the one instance, but when you joined up to eat lunch at the cafeteria table, he couldn’t seem to meet your eyes during the whole 35 minutes of being there. 

The next two days consisted of the same. The two of you not being able to speak about what happened that night in his trailer. You tried to meet his reluctance to talk with more diligence of your own, but you quickly registered that Eddie was just a pinch shy of avoiding you.... and not just in the sense of his apparent adamance in not wanting to speak alone, but also in his incessant need to talk over you when you were hanging out in a group. 

Eddie is on average, a talkative person. He likes the attention—often filling the quiet with his noise; whether it be his unyielding onslaught of social commentary, rambunctious jokes, or the metal music that he shreds from his guitar strings. But, you could deduce that he was being noisier than usual. He was overcompensating by dialing his personality tenfold—and even the boys were beginning to catch on. 

Especially on the second day during lunch; when Eddie cut you off mid-sentence and carried on until his breath practically ran out. Most of the group was too caught up in the humor of his words to really care or notice, but Mike and Dustin were quick to comment on it. 

Mike uttered out, “dude” in a subtle scolding tone, which halted Eddie in his second burst of rambling. Then Dustin piggybacked off of it by hissing “—you just talked over them” with his hands sprawled out in his typical animated manner.

You hadn’t really pushed it, too confused to find it insulting. But, Eddie looked like he was struck, causing him to quickly apologize. The word ‘sorry’ was rushed from his mouth and his eyes skipped over your frame with a certain weariness to them. 

...and just like that, you’d had enough. Not that you were angry or upset, you were just worried. Worried that you’d all but broken ‘The’ Eddie Munson, causing your friendship to take a not-so-subtle dive for the worse. So, you casually slipped a tattered note into his ring-clad hand; asking for him to come to your house after school. 

When Eddie read the note under the table, he immediately knew that he couldn’t run anymore... not without making it obvious to you. Though, it was already obvious, to begin with. 

✝︎

You were sure he’d bailed when the day turned to night, but Eddie proved you wrong when his knuckles wrapped against your bedside window. Music was thrumming lowly from your stereo and a candle was burning on your desk. The overhead light was off, instead, relying on the candle to warm the room in an orange glow. 

You were eternally confused on why Eddie always insisted on entering your room through the bedroom window when you had a single floor home and the front door was only ten feet away. But, you opened the window anyway, allowing the lanky boy to crawl inside your house.

Immediately, it was like he brought all the energy with him. He was pacing ever-so-slightly and toying at knickknacks on your shelves. He was explaining why he was late, starting with how his uncle tasked him with chores, then somehow ended up chasing a little dog that got loose from a neighbor’s yard. One story hopped to another when he told you how his neighbor from across the lot, Max, was doing tricks on her skateboard. With each retelling of the events of his day,  he turned his head, as if he was searching his mind for the details. Then, suddenly switched to a new tangent, enthusiastically saying “It smells good in here.” 

Somewhere in the middle of his endless, adorable babbling, you found a seat on the corner of your bed with your legs tucked beneath you. A pillow had found its way into your lap, and you were twirling at the frayed stitches with your fingers. You nodded along occasionally to his speech, finding genuine interest in his words.

Eddie had just started gushing about his new Metallica ‘Master Of Puppets’ album when his topic change gave you whiplash, “—wait!... so what did you wanna talk about?”

His confused and questioning expression made it seem like you were the one that hadn’t gotten to the point, and the irony of it made you smile in bewildered amusement. Eddie plopped down onto your desk chair, his eyes drifting between you and the candle on your desk. In actuality, he was looking beyond you—his eyes just close enough to give the illusion that he was meeting your stare. He started hovering his fingers over the flame, wiggling them slightly, causing the flame to dance on the wick—like a sorcerer and his conjured spells.   

“You’ve been avoiding me, Eddie.” You stated, but the question was there. 

His face screwed up in guilt, “... I know.”

A moment passed before he spoke again in a somber voice, “I’m sorry.” His body visibly slouched at the shoulders, mirroring a remorseful child that was scolded for bad behavior. He anxiously toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth and picked at his fingernails. 

“Is it because of the other night?...” you asked, pulling your feet from beneath you to place them on the floor. 

Eddie swiveled his head slightly to act out a ‘so-so’ movement, “Kinda...”

He watched as you moved the pillow, reaching out with empty hands to grab his. Just as he expected, a subtle ache plucked at his chest. The sensation only amplified when you soothed him with your thumbs, rubbing gentle patterns over his skin. 

“Talk to me,” you gently asked. “...please?”

Eddie sat there for a minute, his lips opening and closing, trying to find the words to voice his thoughts. His frustration increased as the words evaded him, his leg picking up to an anxious pace as his nerves bobbed beneath his skin. Admittedly, your adrenaline lurched when he suddenly stood, nearly dragging you with him. He huffed, carding both of his hands through his hair before throwing them to his sides.

“Why is this so god damn difficult?!” He hissed loudly, his hands annunciating his words. His voice was squeaky when distressed.

“Eddie— take your time,” you tried your best to sound reassuring. “No one is rushing you, I’m listening.”

Eddie glanced at you from the side of his eyes before returning to his episode of self-scolding.

“You don’t have to be a poet either—” you promptly added. “There’s no need for a Shakespearean depiction of how you feel, you could sprout a jumbled mess, and I’d still listen to you.”

Eddie returned to wiping frantically at his face as if he could knead the words out of him. But, you gave an exasperated sigh, rushing to stand in front of him to rip his hands from his face. His skin was blooming in an aggravated rash of pink from his hands. You pulled him, guiding him to sit down on your mattress to where you stood over him. 

“What if I were to talk?—” you suggested. “Would that help... for you to hear me out, then be able to gather your thoughts together?”

Eddie simultaneously shrugged his shoulders and shook his head―making his anxious confusion all that more apparent. Seeing him this panicked made you feel worried; motivating you to dote on him. You braced your hands on his shoulders, kneading the pads of your fingers into the tension of his muscles. His eyes came to an involuntary close, and his shoulders sagged under your touch. 

“Or―we don’t have to talk at all?” you whispered, “We could just stay like this...”

He hummed, his head lulling to the side to rest on your arm. 

His comfort didn’t last long― you could imagine the cogs working inside his mind while he wrestled with his thoughts. And, almost like feeling the electricity in the air right before lightning strikes, you could sense that he was about to speak. 

He looked so vulnerable beneath you when he tentatively placed his hands upon yours. His eyes finally opened, and you swear they were dewy with unshed tears. “I li— I like you,” he forced the words out with a strained and hesitant voice. 

“...like more than— more than a friend.” He grumbled, his eyes flitting over the woven patterns in the rug beneath your feet. Eddie sighed, “for a while now... I don’t know— I was worried that if— if I said anything, it would ruin what we had.” He readjusted in his seat, “...but, I was greedy— and I went ‘n fucked it up anyway.” He finished it off with a cruel laugh. 

“Eddie, I—” you began.

“—and even then!— I screwed up.” His voice rose an octave. “I should’ve made it better for you! I should’ve— should’ve made you feel good!” His eyes screwed shut. 

You knew that he was self-conscious about the events that transpired when the two of you indulged your desires those days ago. You had tried to reassure him that you hadn’t minded him giving in to the pleasure that you shared— even going as far as to admit that you rather enjoyed making him feel good.  Which was true!— you loved the hold that you held over the boy before you. 

You removed your hands from his shoulders, moving them to rest on either side of his face. The change wasn’t rushed, allowing for Eddie’s hands to remain on yours.

“Eddie, I like you too.” You said with a solid and confident voice. “I’ve likely felt that way since before I could register what it was that I was feeling...” 

Eddie could hear the vulnerability in what you had just admitted. It tempted him to believe you, even though a part of him was convinced it was impossible—despite all reason and logic pointing to the truth. 

“—I don’t want you to feel like you screwed up when you were just enjoying yourself in the moment... Especially because I meant what I said—and I wish I took it more seriously if it meant that I could ease how you’re feeling now.” You explained with the utmost honesty.

Eddie contemplated having something to say, but he appreciated not having to when you spoke again in a sultry voice: “... I like making you feel good.”

You could feel the movement of his jaw beneath your hands when he swallowed at your words; a soft sigh falling from his lips. 

“I like finding all the little things that make you swoon...” you murmured through a teasing voice. “I enjoy having you be mine— where I can treat you— and dote on you...” with each pause, you raked your fingers through his hair, finding a new place to rest your hands over his frame. 

Eddie’s breaths grew long and drawn out— whispers of light moans at the back of his throat, rumbling with each caress. 

“I want you, Eddie” you said, each word carrying with it a great magnitude. “Nothing that you could do, would change that.” 

Eddie hummed.

“—especially when everything you do is so addicting, making me crave for another hit.” You pulled him in closer, your hands, woven in the hair behind his ears, his face in a comforting embrace by your chest. “...another moan, another whine, and another kiss.”

Eddie’s hands shot to your frame, latching around your waist while the other clenched around the fabric of your shirt. He inhaled your sent, breathing you in to make sure this was real. Once he drew in his breath, a groan was ripped from his throat... not one filled with pleasure, but simply unbridled bliss. 

With his arms wrapped around you, he used his access to pull you to sit on his lap. Your bodies were entangled together when his face found itself buried in your neck. It was as if he was trying to press you into him— bringing your bodies impossibly closer to where you could swear you felt his heart beating against your chest. You could feel his teeth graze against your neck before he ripped his face away to look at you. 

He grazed the spot on your neck with his finger, swiping over it with a feather-like touch. “...can I— can I kiss you here?” He asked, his eyes forming a dark cesspool from his pupils. 

“Mhmm,” you affirmed.

You thought he would begin the assault against your neck, but his hand traveled to your face. Teasing at your bottom lip with his thumb before asking in a low voice, “What about here?...”

You nodded, and that was all he needed before attacking your lips with his own. He started with such fervor and passion that you would think he’d be the one to guide this kiss, but, with one swipe of your tongue, the control changed just like the turning of the tides. You grew intoxicated by the sound of his muffled whines—yet, amused by the fact that he tried so hard to will them away. 

He pulled away from the kiss with a subtle gasp, panting slightly before launching to your jaw, burning your skin with the touch of his lips. He carried the rest of his kisses, trailing down your neck, halting just before your clavicle in the place that was still wet from the brush of his teeth. He lapped at the skin before treating it with a wet kiss, topping it off with a nip of his teeth. At the sound of your faint, confounded moan, he bucked up into your hips with a groan. The interaction reminded you of the night in his trailer when he sheepishly apologized for his body’s natural reaction to his pleasure.

He was about to apologize again when his words snapped into a whine at your hand on his throat, roughly guiding him into another kiss. His breath was shuddering in between your mouths, drawing pleased moans from your lips. 

“Do you wanna make it up to me?...” you mewled with your forehead pressed against his.

Eddie was going to ask what you meant, but he got his answer when you teased at his belt with your fingers. He lifted his hips into your touch, nonverbally pushing you to continue. Normally, you would tease him by drawing this out— by making him beg you to give him what he wanted. But, that sounded like it would be just as unfair to you as it would be to him—especially when the both of you wanted so badly to take this further. 

You made easy work of his belt and then popped the button of his jeans. Eddie wouldn’t admit it, but the slightest pressure of your touch as you unzipped his pants was enough to make his brain short circuit because his senses were hardwired on your every touch. He was the first to break the kiss—he’d make the excuse that it was so he could undress—but, it was really so he could avoid the intense pleasure that just touching you gave him. 

You followed his actions, stripping yourself of your jeans and moving after him as he scooted himself further up the mattress. He loved the sight of you as you climbed on all fours to bring yourself to him—he could only imagine how beautiful the sight would be if he was behind you instead. He was about to grab a handful of your ass when you denied him the touch of your supple flesh; instead, bringing his hand to rest flat against your abdomen. 

“Take my shirt off, Eddie.” You instructed him. “—I know you want to.”

His eyes, which were glued to his hand atop your stomach, were wretched from the sight to look into your eyes. He moved on instinct, gliding his calloused fingers up your frame over your clothes. He surveyed your body for a moment before bringing his hand back down, performing the same motion, except beneath the cotton fabric of your shirt. When the tips of his fingers met the mound of your breasts, his movements stuttered.

“You-you're not wearing a bra?” He asked, his erection twitched at the realization. 

You gently shook your head, smiling at his growing excitement. 

Eddie brought his other hand up to aid in the removal of your shirt, and when your bare form was postured before him, he gaped at the sight. You were backlit in an orange glow, the candle encompassing half of you under its hue and the other in shadow. 

Eddie brought up both of his hands to rest on your ribs, the cool metal of his rings causing a bristle to rise on your skin. “Touch me, Eddie...” you said, lulled into a rhythmic breath. 

His touch was swept up to cup your breasts, his fingers pressing into your skin as he stared at you with adoration. He caught one of them with his mouth, prodding at your nipple with his tongue between his teeth. Your hands found the bottom of his Hellfire shirt, lightly tugging at the fabric. Eddie immediately raised his arms, allowing you to lift it over his shoulders. The two of you managed to find yourselves in the same embrace as before, this time with Eddie making light work at your breast as you shared smoldering kisses. The further the kiss intensified, the more that his body riveted at the passing touches of your skin against his. The slightest graze, working wonders to stimulate his nerves. Those same nerves, nearly imploding when you tugged softly on his hair. 

You watched as his eyelashes fluttered at the motion and he hissed inwardly with his breath. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” He moaned while wearing a sloppy, disheveled smile. 

With his hair pulled back in your grasp, revealing his neck, you laced his adam's apple with a swipe of your tongue. Keening slightly when his muscle twitched at the stimulation, you peppered his skin in puckered bruises. His skin— now an array of blotted pinks and sultry purples. With each new art piece on his canvased skin, Eddie craned into your lips, mouth forced agape in choked whimpers. 

He hoped you hadn’t noticed when his hips picked up a pace, somehow falling in rhythm with the quiet song emitted from your stereo speakers. He hooked his waist in deliberate thrusts; an aching heat brewing at the feel of your plush thigh against his throbbing cock. His labored breaths had quickened, staggering with each prick of sensitivity and slacking with each pull from your tongue. 

When you dug your hand into his side, the sudden contrast caused him to lurch forward to sit his forehead on your shoulder, his hips bucking up against your skin. 

“...you ready?” You asked with a voice, nearly mocking a twisted innocence before turning sultry and venomous... “—you ready to be inside me?”

Eddie gave a pitiful cry at the thought, the sound instantly cut out by his teeth snapping on his tongue while he nodded enthusiastically into your shoulder. He audibly swallowed, “...yes!—god, yes”

“Let me make you feel good...” Eddie all but begged, “—I wanna make you feel good.”

He could feel your smile against his skin even before he moved to take the sight of you in. He brought his thumb to toy at your clit, hoping to prepare you for taking him in. A moan quivered on his lips when he found how wet you already were for him. 

You knew that he slowed down at the realization of how he made you feel, using his lust at the feel of you to your advantage... “You made me like this,” you husked into his ear. He groaned at the words, promptly losing composure when the groan twisted into a sigh. Eddie had to fight off his release when he saw you drag his hand from your clit to take his finger into your mouth. Your tongue, lapping your own fluids from his skin. You hollowed your cheeks around his soiled digit—his mind reeling back to the memory of your lips wrapped around his dick. His jaw hung slack as you slowly drew him from your mouth, his eyes transfixed with arousal. His expression was soon corrupted by a cheeky smile; enamored by your titillating beauty and sensuality. 

Stars still danced within eyes when your hand reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs. A darkened splotch on the fabric where his aggravated tip would be, you settled your hand above the fabric when you asked the necessary question, “...is this what you want?”

“I’m yours,” he stated with certainty, his eyes never leaving yours. “—do whatever you want with me.”

You chuckled at his unyielding submission before searching his briefs for his perked cock. You took him in your grasp, pulling him from the confines of the tight fabric. His breath sizzled once he felt your hand around him, his gaze growing ever more wild and playful at the developing realization of what reality had in store for him. 

With your other hand, you slid your panties to the side and aligned yourself above him. “Wait!” He ushered out with a new sense of urgency. “—shouldn’t we use a condom?”

“I’m clean,” you replied. “...and I’m on the pill. But, we could use one if you want to?”

“I’m clean too—” he nodded, as to support his words. “...and I’m good if you are.” 

You lowered down on him, the arousal on his face increasing as he sunk between your warm folds—a silent moan ripped from his chest when you bottomed out on him. A breathy exhale flows from your mouth at the feel of him. His hands dawned in metallic rings, clutching around the sides of your thighs. A vein pulled tight beneath the skin on his forearm as he held his breath, trying to adapt to the clench of your walls encasing him. 

Once you got your bearings, you deliberately ground your hips onto him and he hissed at the sensitivity. “ah” he whimpered in a subtle plea. “—not yet.”

You had intended to hum in response to exclaim your understanding, but instead, it drawled on, simmering on a blissed-out moan. If Eddie were to be honest, he’d voice that hearing you moan on his cock wasn’t helping his predicament... but, at the sound of you feeling good, he felt motivated to pull more pleasured sounds from your lips. 

With his hands still relishing in the luscious feel of your thighs, he gently eases you into a hesitant thrust. His core instantly spasmed at the pleasure it gave him. He was so focused on the place where the two of you met in a slick heat that when he glanced up, he was dazzled by your hooded, glazed-over eyes. 

You were encoding the sight into memory— the darkened shade of his curls by his face, which were dampened with sweat. The slight tension between his brows, as he tried to thwart the pleasure that you gave him. The way that his lips parted when he tried to quiet his moans by passing them off as lazy breaths. You could grow addicted to this—you would bottle it up and drink it if you could. 

Eddie moaned when you regained the control that he had foolishly assumed to be his. You lifted yourself up and down on his cock, rolling your hips to hit his most sensitive places. He wonders if you know what you’re doing to him?—If you were aware that you held him in the palm of your hand. You dragged him closer to his release when you graced his skin with sloppy kisses; your fingers latched onto his roots and weaponizing the slightest pain to twist it into pleasure. You knew that he was getting close when he swallowed a bitter cry, clenching his eyes shut in a private battle with himself. 

Just as the coiling tension brews in his abdomen and he feels like he’s seconds from coming undone, you slow to a mind-numbing grind, like a boat on calm waves. His mind sways, just as his balance would with the water beneath him on the bellowing current. He sighs into the motion, the tension easing from his face, an instinctual disappointment taking its place. 

Then you propel the pace forward again, settling back into the rhythm you established before. Eddie’s impending orgasm came back with a vengeance, causing little intricacies to fall from his tongue and quiet curses to be whispered into the air. 

Even with his blood thrumming behind his ears, he could hear your breath quickening. He could feel the small puffs of wind fan against his neck. With each moan that you released, picking up at the ends with an addicting sound— he was practically thrown into his pleasure. This time, he was content with getting there... so long as he brought you there with him. He rubbed circles at your clit with his thumb, floating on the sound that it pulled from your throat. 

“...you’re so beautiful—” he sighed with a voice mirroring his pleasure, following it with little complements, slurred together on rushed lips. 

“—I’m gonna cum,” He murmured. He tried to open his eyes to take you in, but he couldn’t see clearly through the haze, which clouded his vision. 

You slowed to a stop again, and Eddie couldn’t stop the plea that fell from his lips. He sought solace in your shoulder, planting the crook of your neck with a warm kiss. He huffed heavy pants into your skin, his chest rising with the air in his lungs. 

You adjusted yourself slightly, fighting a neediness of your own— wanting nothing more but to engage in your pleasure until your climax... Wanting nothing more, except to draw further sounds of bliss from Eddie’s lips. 

You bucked your hips onto him again, his fingers quickly following to return to his pursuit of your orgasm. The two of you were a harmony of moans— his were breathy and filled with need— and yours were sultry and sweet. Eddie’s thrusts were becoming sloppy, meeting resistance in his aching limbs and glazed over mind. He had been reduced to desperate pants into your shoulder as his hand fumbled at your side, pulling you into a lazy embrace. 

“―cum inside me, Eddie” you sang in a dreamy voice, filled with pleasure-fueled exhaustion.

You clenched around him with a honey-soaked sob and he clasped his teeth onto your shoulder to stifle his choked, startled moan—his hips snapping into you with one final thrust. You hummed as you felt him fill you with his release, continuing to roll yourself onto him; each motion drawing an airy moan from his lips. 

After the two of you had ridden out your orgasms, left in a mixture of spent pants, he leaned further into you. His face went slack on your shoulder and you caressed his hair with your hand. He strained his blissed senses to process it when you set a tender kiss behind his ear— the display, filled with affection and unbridled compassion. Your unattended hand found its way to his arm, tracing your fingers over the faded tattoo that resided within the texture of his skin. 

You could feel the faint semblance of a smile on his lips from where they resided against your shoulder. In a voice similar to the one adorned in the waking morning, you purred: “...was it how you imagined it?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, “Honestly?— no...” His voice sunk into a whisper, “I wanted to whisk you off your feet...” Eddie spoke with both hinted shyness and unmatched amusement, “—but, I guess it was the other way around.”

You pressed the side of your cheek into his and deepened the embrace between you— sighing at the feel of your mixed pleasure seeping slightly from you.

“Trust me, lover boy...” you cooed into his ear. “—I’m yours.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #sub!eddie munson #dom/sub #dom!reader #gentle dom #soft!dom!reader #stanger things #stranger things season 4 #fanfiction #x reader #smut #fluff #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort

[stardust-walker]

For Cryin Out Loud

Eddie is having a bad day so Steve comes home and takes care of him. They take a bath together and end up fooling around because they're 2 idiots in love. Part of my little Hard of Hearing/Deaf Steve little one-shot I wrote that is apparently growing a mind of it's own and turning into a little series of one shots!

There may be minor typos but I haven't posted this on AO3 yet but it's been sitting in my word docs for a solid month so enjoy!

rated: E

cw: smut!! my first time really writing anything bc these boys changed my whole brain chemistry i swear 2 u

border by cafekitsune!

Steve has a feeling that it hasn’t been a good day when he walks in and he doesn’t see Eddie, but he can hear the music playing from the bathroom. The music gets louder as Steve walks through the door and calls out a greeting, almost like Eddie is cranking the music for him too. Steve can recite the opening lines to You Took The Words Right Out of My Mouth from memory at this point and he thinks Eddie must be doing the same thing in the bathtub upstairs. 

Eddie had bitched up a storm at first but Steve reminded him more than enough times that it was a gift and he couldn’t be an asshole about it. He tries to listen a little closer as he mills around the kitchen cutting up fruit and gathering snacks to bring up with him. The song comes to a close as he starts back towards the hallway with his hands full of a peace offering. And yep there it is. The mixtape starts over after a few minutes of silence in which Eddie must have been rewinding the tape. He wonders how long Eddie’s been up there. Probably since Robin left for work a little over an hour ago if he had to venture a guess. Steve moves a little faster as he hums along to For Cryin Out Loud. 

~

“You know, Meat Loaf really knew what he was talking about with this one,” Eddie had said one of the first times they listened to it together. The song had hit the 5-minute mark and Eddie was bobbing his head to the music. Steve just watched him, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, totally,” Eddie’s smile was infectious and Steve felt like he was going to orbit another planet. He practically melted when Eddie leaned in to kiss him just as Meat Loaf continued to sing about how of course he loved whoever he was singing to. It was like Eddie himself was screaming it from the rooftops. So when Steve decided to make Eddie a mixtape, it was no surprise that was the first song he put on there.

~

Gareth had caught Eddie listening to the mixtape once. More like he’d gotten into the car with him and stared in horror at the radio before declaring that Eddie was some sort of saint for listening to Guns n’ Roses. At least according to Eddie, but Steve had just smiled and pointed out that he’d caught him strumming the opening notes to Patience more than a few times. 

Steve couldn’t help but think the song was a little close to home for him. He climbed the last few stairs and he could hear Eddie singing the chorus quietly to himself. When Eddie started whistling along, Steve let out a laugh.

“Steve?” The water splashes slightly. Eddie must have sat up in the bath.

“Yeah,” he calls out before he enters the bathroom and leans against the doorway. Eddie reaches out to turn down the stereo with wrinkled fingers and Steve couldn’t stop the fond smile from creeping onto his face. 

 Eddie eyes the plate of fruit with hungry eyes before his gaze shifts back to Steve. “Is that for me?”

“I was thinking we could share actually unless you’re feeling greedy.” He crosses the room and sets the plate down on the closed toilet lid. Steve wrinkles his nose in concentration as he slowly kneels down next to the tub. In the background, Tom Petty is starting to sing about some girl who loves Elvis. “Hey,” he whispers as he brushes the hair out of Eddie’s eyes. They’re a little swollen and Steve frowns. “Bad day?” 

Eddie shrugs and lets out a shaky breath. “Kind of.” He runs a hand over the surface of the water as he looks away. Steve doesn’t push it. He could easily say that the incident during spring break was 3 years ago. Vecna’s been dead for 2. But he gets it; none of them will probably really be over it. A lot of them bear the scars and the damage from it still, Eddie included. Steve notices how some days it’s harder than others for Eddie to get out of bed in the morning. Instead of saying anything, he leans in and brushes his lips over Eddie’s cheek. Eddie sighs and when Steve pulls back, the other man’s eyes have fluttered shut.

“Do you want me to get in?”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice cracks. He opens his eyes and they stare at each other for a second. Eddie’s big brown eyes make him look even more open and vulnerable as he scoots back against the wall. “Sit in front of me though. I want us to look at each other.” 

Steve nods because who is he to not give Eddie what he wants? Eddie drums on the side of the tub as Steve rises to his feet and starts to shed his clothes. He can see Eddie in the mirror as he rests his cheek on his arm to get more comfortable looking at him. His heart swells. Eddie is mouthing the words to the next song as it starts and Steve thinks about how Eddie bitched when Steve begged him to buy the newest album from The Cure. Steve had tried not to cry the first time he heard Lovesong. Seeing Eddie mouthing the words at him makes him feel totally different. But still, he tries to control himself because Eddie is having a bad day. As much as they both might want it, he’s pretty sure that fucking in the bath isn’t going to work out anyway.

Steve takes his hearing aid out and takes a moment to adjust to the slightly more muffled sounds around him. Steve’s half-hard just from the weight of Eddie’s staring at him. He pulls his underwear off and places them with the rest of his clothes before he turns to face the tub. 

Eddie’s face lights up in a way that makes Steve laugh. “Hey, gorgeous.” He leans back and wrinkles his nose as he moves his leg to make room. Steve lowers himself into the tub which is pretty warm still. Eddie probably filled it up again while he was downstairs.

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” he winks. Eddie laughs. Steve is so fucking in love with him that it hurts. “Did you actually wash your hair or were you just half underwater?”

“Hm,” Eddie hums as he slides lower into the water. “I plead the fifth.” He sighs as the water reaches the middle of his chest. 

“You’re so gross,” he rolls his eyes and dodges the small splash of water sent his way. “I was going to offer to wash it for you but now I don’t want to.”

Eddie pouts. “Only if you want to.” The unspoken fear of being a burden is still there and Steve gets it. He really does. So he motions for Eddie to sit up and move closer before he reaches behind him for the shampoo. Eddie winces as he bends his knee a little too fast. “You’re too good to me.” 

Steve is faintly aware of the fact that Dio starts playing and it’s one of Eddie’s favorites. Naturally.

“No, I’m not. Now shut up and close your eyes.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie smirks as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back slightly, baring his neck to Steve. He ghosts his fingers over the scar on his neck. They match and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be over it. Eddie shivers slightly as he leans in and presses a kiss right to the center of his throat before he starts on washing his hair. It’s hard to gauge how gentle is the right amount when it’s not your hair but he tries his best. Skillful fingers comb the knots from Eddie’s hair as he relaxes, eyes only squeezing shut tighter when it’s time to rinse the suds out. 

Steve cups the other man’s scarred cheek in his hand when he’s done and Eddie’s eyes flutter open. “There he is,” he whispers.

Eddie smiles as he leans in, his hands settling on his boyfriend’s biceps and there’s something heavier about his gaze now. “You’re really something else, you know.” 

Part of Steve feels bad for the fact that he kind of likes the days that are like this. It’s a bad day but he can still bring Eddie back from it. They can take their time and take care of each other in whatever way they need to. Sometimes it’s just cuddling and talking about it. Sometimes Eddie doesn’t want to talk at all or Steve can’t bring himself to put in his hearing aids and connect with the world. They just deal with whatever they need.

Eddie licks his lips. Steve watches as the water drips down from his bangs and slides down the side of his face before it stops right on his cupid’s bow. He’s pretty sure it’s shit like this that Warrant is singing about in Heaven because Jesus fuck it’s insane.

Steve ducks in, nose bumping against Eddie’s as he does, and when he kisses him, their teeth click. Eddie’s smiling and it’s like a switch flips in his head. Eddie sighs against Steve’s lips as his wet hands slide up his arms to grip his shoulders. He knows they shouldn’t do anything, at least not here. He just can’t bring himself to do anything to stop it when Eddie slides forward almost into his lap. Steve groans as Eddie nibbles at his bottom lip. His hips buck up slightly and Eddie yelps as Steve slides backward an inch. 

They pull apart and Steve stares at Eddie: his pupils are blown wide and his freshly washed hair starting to curl already and he can’t take it anymore. “Let’s go to bed” Eddie leans in and whispers. Christine McVie is singing through the speakers about how she’d be with someone anywhere and everywhere. He fucking gets it and he’ll scream it from the rooftops one day.

He’s gentle when he helps Eddie out of the tub and towel dries his hair. Their hands wander and the only other sound in the room aside from the music is Eddie’s quiet singing and the occasional gasp or laugh. They leave the music blaring as they hurry down the hall. When Eddie lays on the bed and motions for him to follow, Steve thinks that one day he’ll kiss every fucking scar that the Upside Down left on him if he hasn’t already. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice and they’re both laughing as Steve kisses his way up Eddie’s left side. He takes special care to kiss as much of his scarred-up chest as he can. Eddie sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Steve,” he whispers in a way that makes all the pistons in his brain fire. “Stevie, come on.” 

Right now is about Eddie, so he starts moving again. Licking and kissing and biting his way up his lover’s neck and he’s already starting to fall apart just a little. Steve curses himself for not putting his hearing aid back in. Now he’s missing out on every little sound Eddie makes even though he has them committed to memory by now. Steve plants a hand on the bed on either side of the man as he pulls away. Eddie’s hair is splayed out on the pillow like a halo and Steve swallows hard as he tries to burn the sight into his brain. There’s a part of him that wants to see it every time he closes his eyes because there can’t be anything better than that.

“What do you want,” he whispers as he eyes the man beneath him with hungry eyes. 

“You.” Eddie grins up at him. Steve grins right back as he presses himself down onto him. Eddie groans and Steve crashes their lips together and swallows the sound right up. Eddie slips his tongue into his mouth. Steve trembles a little as a hand slides down his back, fingers tracing down his spine in a feather-light touch. The fingers on Eddie’s other hand wind into his hair and Steve lets out a groan that mirrors Eddie’s own. It’s like a feedback loop.

They’re barely touching each other. Just grinding against each other and only breaking away to breathe until Steve sits up enough to feel around on the bedside table until he snatches up the lube. Eddie’s dick twitches in interest and yeah. He’ll give him whatever the fuck he wants whenever he asks. Within reason. So sue him. The way that Eddie’s big brown eyes stay focused on him as he flips the cap and pours lube onto his fingers is enough to make him crazy.

“This okay?”

His bangs flop in front of his eyes with how fast he nods his head. He parts his legs almost like it’s an instinct by now as Steve moves to kneel between his knees. Steve watches just as closely and he feels his breath catch when Eddie starts to melt under his touch. It’s just one finger circling his rim at first and Eddie pulls his legs in tighter as he sighs. By the time Steve has two fingers inside of him, Eddie is panting quietly. Steve curls his fingers and he hits that spot that he knows has Eddie seeing fireworks. He can’t stop himself from kissing his way up his chest again, fingers still moving inside of him.

When he’s close enough, Eddie grips him by the hair and tugs him up gently. He crashes their lips together with an intensity that leaves Steve gasping. Eddie’s all over him. All-encompassing as their mouths move together and they breathe each other in. Eddie’s thighs are trembling as they wrap around Steve’s waist. Steve pulls his fingers out of him slowly.

 Then there’s so little space between them that neither of them can reach down and wrap a hand around both of them to jerk off. That might be what Eddie wants, but Steve thinks it’s close enough as he breaks the kiss only to latch onto the soft skin of his neck. Eddie’s voice is muffled and Steve lets out a confused sound as he gets shoved back by a palm to the forehead. “Wrong side,” Eddie sighs before he guides Steve to the other side of his neck and Jesus Christ he likes this angle a lot better. It’s like Eddie realizes what he needs. The hand that guided him moves to the back of his hair and the other cradles the side of his face like he’s something precious. 

Steve’s hips jerk and Eddie hisses almost right in his ear. “Fuck yeah just like that. Come on.” The gasps and whispers guide him better than anything else as they grind against each other. They’re so close that he can feel the muscles in Eddie’s stomach start to tense up. He can hear his breathing pick up and the soft moans that start to spill out even when he’s trying to hold them back. Eddie’s close and so is he. It’s almost painful when he manages to sit up to slip a hand between them and it only takes two hard jerks for Eddie to finally break. 

He takes in everything. He always does. The way Eddie throws his head back against the pillows and his eyes roll back just a little bit before he squeezes them closed. The way he blushes red right down to the scars on his chest. It’s the way that Eddie groans out his name that sends Steve right over the edge with him. He slumps forward, trembles, and curses through his own orgasm as he buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he pants out as he wipes his hand on the sheets. They have to do laundry anyway.

His arms feel a little like jello as he pushes himself up off of his boyfriend. Eddie smiles up fondly at him as Steve leans in to kiss him. He stops halfway there as Eddie lets out a short laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Eddie shrugs as he reaches up and brushes a stray piece of hair from Steve’s forehead. “Hi.”

The gentleness of it throws him off and he sputters. “Hi?”

Eddie laughs as he pulls him down again. “You know, I think I’m having a better day now.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he twirls a strand of Eddie’s hair between his fingers. “Oh, you don’t say?”

“Yeah, well you know. When the prettiest guy in Hawkins tries to woo you, it’s kind of hard to stay suffering.”

“Oh poor baby.”

“I think pizza would really secure the wooing,” Eddie sighs dramatically as he turns his head to pout at his boyfriend.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” Steve snorts as he pulls himself into a sitting position. 

Eddie gasps and mockingly grabs his chest. “But you love me!”

“For cryin out loud?” Steve quirks an eyebrow before he leans over to kiss Eddie on the forehead.

“And all that other shit the guy sings about.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Takes one to know one, Stevie!” 

#steddie #steve harrington #deaf steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing stuff #steddie smut #plz be gentle im SHY #im throwing this into the void and running away

[wheels-of-despair]

Wrapping Paper Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Girl attempts to write cute holiday story about fictional metalhead, spends more time justifying her ridiculous wrapping paper collection. Contains: Charlie Brown, empty threats, youthful tomfoolery. Word Count: 700ish

"You think you've got enough wrapping paper?"

You hadn't heard him come in, but you smile at the amused voice coming from behind you.

"You can never have enough wrapping paper."

You're sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by at least twenty rolls of colorful wrapping paper, along with scissors, tape, tags, and two stacks of gifts. A large and neatly wrapped pile to your right, a much smaller scattering of unwrapped gifts to your left. You'd been at this all morning.

A stack of Christmas movies sits by the VCR, A Charlie Brown Christmas playing quietly in the background. You have the house to yourself today, so you're taking the opportunity to get all your reindeer in a row out in the open, rather than lugging all the wrapping supplies to your room.

You knew Eddie would be dropping by, so his gifts had been wrapped first. You might even let him shake one if he asks nicely.

"You're joking, right?" He carefully makes his way through the chaos you've created.

"Do you not wrap presents? Please don't tell me you're a bag person. Bags are no fun, Munson. They practically encourage peeking."

"Like… bags from the grocery store?"

"Oh my god."

He chuckles, knowing that you're rolling your eyes at him even though you haven't turned to face him yet.

He drops into a cushioned chair near the wrapped pile to your right, finally entering your eyeline. He's still wearing his jacket, and the tip of his nose is red. Must be cold out today.

"Why do you need so much wrapping paper?"

"It's pretty. It's super cheap after Christmas. It'd be boring if all the presents looked the same. I have a lot of stuff to wrap. Among other reasons."

"Other reasons?"

"Yup. I'll show you when I'm done."

He huffs and nudges the wrapped presents with his foot. "Which one's mine?"

"You have no appreciation for the art of gift wrap, so yours is going in a plain brown grocery store bag."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?"

"…no?"

"Ask me nicely," you prompt as you fill out a gift tag and place another box on the finished pile.

"For what?"

"Ask me nicely for pretty wrapping paper."

He rolls his eyes dramatically and drops to his knees in one impressive move, hands clasped together like some serious begging is about to go down. "Please, oh please, for the love of all that is Christmas, won't you please wrap my gifts in shiny, pretty paper?" He bats his eyelashes.

You narrowed your eyes, pretending to consider it. "Ehhh… alright. But only because you're cute when you beg."

He grins and returns to his chair, turning his attention back to the TV as you reach for the final unwrapped gift.

You smile and shake your head at the delightful silliness of this conversation, scissors slicing through a pretty Santa pattern with satisfying ease. You wrap your last present, slap a bow on it, and silently survey the mess you've made. Scanning the piles of debris, your eyes land on an empty wrapping paper tube, nearly buried beneath a mountain of paper scraps. A grin worthy of The Grinch forms on your face.

Watching Eddie out of the corner of your eye, you slowly reach for the cardboard tube with your left hand, feeling another beside it. Perfect. You discreetly slide one toward you.

As Linus begins to explain what Christmas is all about to Charlie Brown and Eddie Munson, you carefully lift your weapon… and bonk him across the knees.

He jumps and stares at you like you'd just sprouted antlers.

"Did you just…?"

"Yup."

A mischievous glint appears in his eye.

A few minutes later, your mother returns from her shopping trip to the sound of a yelp. She places her bags on the kitchen table as a series of a strange thumps and wild cackling erupts from the living room. She cautiously approaches, having no idea what she's about to walk into.

Two teenagers, armed with cardboard swords, are laughing like they've never had more fun in their lives. Bonking each other with no mercy. Surrounded by the debris of what appeared to be a Christmas tornado.

She covers a smile and returns to the kitchen. Let the kids have their fun. As long as they clean up after.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x christmas #writings of despair #please be gentle this is my first fic #there's a decent chance i'm going to pass out when i finally click 'post'

[florallylly]

disney princess steve harrington except it's set in regular old hawkins and robin somehow got turned into a Robin so he's just chanting "boobies" at this bird that keeps pecking him

#steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #at one point robin thinks it would be funny if she mama birds him and spits a half chewed seed in his mouth #steve screams #of course the cure is true loves kiss #and steve lays a gentle little peck on bird robin's head and BOOM they're crying in each other's arms bc why didn't they try that before #possible eddie munson screaming crying in the background bc how is steve harrington conversing with birds #and then robin starts chirping along to steve's rendition of total eclipse of the heart #eddie is like i've never heard of a princess who sounds like kermit the frog but somehow this is better

[becca-alexa]

Judge a Book

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're at Eddie's, catching up on some reading. What will happen between you two?

Word Count: 2.4K

Content Warnings: consensual touching, fingering (f receiving), general smut, no use of [Y/N]

Author's Note: it's my birthday and i can write smut if i want to (this can be read as a mirror to Movie Magic!)

    Eddie lived for these quiet moments with you, ones where the two of you could be alone - apart from the group and the stress and chaos of your lives where you could just exist. Enjoy one another’s company, simply be with each other.

    Eddie adored you - for longer than he could remember, longer than he should have, he’s been hopelessly in love with you. Longing, pining, aching with feelings he knows you’d never reciprocate. He’s resigned himself to being your friend - your best friend, and he’d cringe every time you’d refer to him as such. He was certain you’ve never even looked his way; the few boyfriends you’d had throughout high school only served to tear open the gaping hole in his chest that he desperately wanted to fill with you.

    He held open the door to his bedroom, dropping into a bow and pulling a coveted giggle from you as you walked into the haphazard space, making yourself quite at home atop his bed - today, you’d both wanted a quiet moment to catch up on your reading, content with simply being in the presence of one other. You sat on the bed, back against the wall, and Eddie sat at his desk, his hardcover copy of The Return of the King already open atop his lap. Still, even though he’d wanted to focus on his book, he caught himself stealing glance after glance at you, biting back his smile as he watched the emotions flicker across your face - you were always so expressive when you read, he’d noticed, and sometimes he’d often just watch you instead of reading himself. You were always too engrossed in your book to notice the heartfelt, sappy looks he was giving you. 

    But, completely unbeknownst to Eddie, you’d been in love with him for nearly as long as he’s held feelings for you. You couldn’t seem to get the metalhead out of your mind - the fact that he was your closest friend did nothing to help quell your mounting feelings for him. The boyfriends you’d had - two, and you’d found them both lacking when compared to him - were only a distraction, as you were positive he’d never want you. Eddie could have his pick of the girls in Hawkins - why would he want you? It wasn’t just a rumor that every girl wanted Eddie - or, at the very least, wanted to be with him - and you just felt like you… couldn’t compare. You were happy to have him as your friend, to be able to stand by his side through whatever came your way. You were - or, rather, you’d convinced yourself as such.

    Eddie’s eyes happened to look at you again, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched your eyes dart back and forth across the dog-eared page, your legs shifting from where you’d tucked them underneath you. But, as though you’d wanted to topple him, to render him stupid, you’d bit your lip.

    You’d bit your lip.

    What were you reading? Eddie couldn’t stop looking at you. You moved, stretching your endless legs out in front of you, crossing them at the ankles. Eddie couldn’t stop looking at you. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, your eyes wide as you flipped the page. Eddie couldn’t stop looking at you.

    God, the sight of you - flushed the slightest of pinks, cherry-glossed lip caught between your pearly whites - was going to tide him over for weeks, in the moments he’d be alone with but his hands for company. His eyes trailed over you, his breath catching, hitching as you slowly brought your legs up, pressing them close to your chest as you balanced your book against your knees. It took him longer than he’d willingly admit to gather his thoughts enough to blink, and even then, all he could do was stare at you - specifically, at the soft-looking pair of panties tucked between your thighs.

    Had you forgotten you were wearing a skirt?

    He shifts himself atop his chair, eyes never leaving you as he burns the sight of you into his mind, commits it to memory - and you keep on reading, smiling at whatever passage you’d read, your thighs squeezing together-

    Eddie nearly fell off his chair.

    You were squeezing your thighs together, your mouth falling open ever so slightly, eyes lidded as you turned another page. You shifted atop his blanket, and he swore to the gods above he heard you moan.

    “What’re you reading, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, praying you wouldn’t notice how strained his voice was, how he was pressing his book atop his lap to hide his blooming erection at the sight of you squeezing your fucking thighs together-

    “W-What?” you stammer, face flushed as you look at him from over your knees, your voice a bit breathless; he picks up in an instant how nervous you sound.

    “That book any good?” he asks.

    “Oh, this?” You wave the book around - Eddie only sees the back cover, all deep rouge and white text. He doesn’t have a clue what you’re reading. “‘S just something I found at Melvald’s.”

    Eddie nods, and you smile at him, eyes lowering as you flip your book back open, sinking a bit into his mattress, the shift pushing your hips further out; Eddie feels a bead of sweat trickle over his brow, his heart stopping as he sees the wet spot forming on your panties.

    God, he wanted you so badly, he could cry.

    You bite your lip again, your breathing coming out in soft, gentle pants as your fingers twitch over the book's cover, your thighs pressing even closer - harder, tighter - together.

    Eddie’s losing his mind.

    Before he can think to stop himself - to figure out a plan - he sits beside you on the bed, the sudden depression spooking you out of your focus. He leans against you, shoulder to shoulder, hands resting over his soft stomach as his eyes gloss over the page. “Mind if I read along?” he asks, giving you the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever seen - and you’re a goner.

    “It’s not like what you usually read…” you warn, all while bringing the book between your bodies, holding it open for him.

    “What? I’ll diversify.” he replies easily, head resting against your as the two of you pick up where you’d left off.

    Working through the lines of text, Eddie feels himself flush with heat, a scalding redness settling itself atop his chest, over his neck, across his face - what the Hell were you reading? He clears his throat, adjusts himself against you, licks the dryness from his lips as he’s subject to how the main lead is having his depraved way with the innocent damsel, every salacious moment written out in graphic detail - and you’d found this book at Melvald’s? The longer he’s beside you, the more he can’t resist looking at you; out of the corner of his eye, he catches you biting your lip again, your eyebrow quirking upward, your thighs rubbing together.

    He starts reading aloud, picking up from a random sentence and working through the paragraph; his tone is slow and steady, deep and even, and he doesn’t realize you’ve all but stopped breathing until he’s finished and he’s calling your name, only to find you blushing to the roots of your hair.

    “Sweetheart?”

    You shake your head, tearing yourself back to the present. You let out a huff of a laugh, your hands trembling slightly as you melt into his side. “Sorry, I… I zoned out for a second, I guess.”

    “I noticed.” Eddie replied, nudging you with his shoulder, his hands moving to grab the book from you. “This thing’s… different, for sure.”

    “Could you keep reading? O-Out loud?”

    Your words, hurried and jumbled together, made his stomach drop - his hands went cold and clammy, his face paling, draining of color as he looked at you, your eyes staring back into his equally as mortified at what just came out of your mouth. You were about to backtrack when Eddie nodded, a hand coming up to run through his unkempt hair.

    “You like my narration skills, princess?”

    You can’t help but shiver - you’ve always loved when he calls you that.

    You nod, and he starts moving over the bed, getting himself more comfortable; with less urging than you’d care to think about, you’d let him reposition you, moving your pliant body between his legs, his knees braced on either side of you as you leaned back against his chest. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, your breath warm and fanning over his neck as his arms encircled you, the book still tightly held in his hand.

    “Comfy?” Eddie asked, smiling at the way you nodded; he could feel your tenseness begin to ebb away as he resumed his reading aloud, his unoccupied hand absentmindedly running over your arm, making you shiver pleasantly under his touch. You can feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, the sound low and rumbling - all of it going straight to your aching core. As you melt against him, Eddie starts losing himself in the lurid book; his voice would have lulled you to sleep, had it not made you so desperately horny.

    You feel his hand move down your arm, sliding over your thigh, his touch scalding as he traces circles over where your skirt had ridden up - and you know he doesn’t miss the slight way you open your legs.

    Eddie stops reading, his voice tight, strained. “Sweetheart?”

    “Keep… Keep reading, Eds.” you tell him, your eyes fluttering shut as he moves his hand closer to your throbbing pussy, his touch featherlight as he brushes over your aching clit, nails scratching over the fabric of your damp panties.

    He stops again - and it makes you want to scream.

    “You don’t want me to stop?” You hear the hesitation in his voice, the trepidation, the uncertainty that he’s crossed a line you’d not wanted him to. Your heart swells at the way he’s caring for you - even now, with his hand between your legs. You’re quiet for a moment, your answer found in the way you move your hand atop his, pressing him more firmly against you.

    “Keep reading.”

    As he reads, his lips press against your ear, his words almost whispered - moaned - as he works his way through the filthy book. You let out a whine of frustration as he rubs circles over you, the friction from your underwear more annoying, if anything - you wanted to feel him, no barriers. At the kiss you plant against the vein pulsing in his neck, he fumbles an entire sentence, his words stuttered, cheeks bursting a vivid red. He looks down at you, at the blown-out look in your eyes, and he smiles - and his hand slides beneath the elastic of your underwear.

    “You still with me, sweets?” he asks you, lips nibbling at your ear as your head rolls against his shoulder, a moan caught between your pressed lips as he works your dripping pussy, the calluses of his hands heavenly as he continues to rub at your clit. You nod, trying desperately to keep from bucking up into his hand.

    He keeps reading.

    It takes you a moment to notice, but once you do, a wild heat washes over you at the feeling of his cock pressed against your back - you can feel it throbbing against the zipper of his jeans, solid and hard. He’s moving his hips against you; small thrusts, just enough to tide him over as he focuses on you.

    “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me…” he groans, feeling the way your slick runs over his fingers - and he swears he’s at the end of his rope. Your body writhes against him, the book falling from his hand as he joins it with the first - one, working your aching clit, and the other sliding two fingers into your dripping center. He groans at the feeling of you around him, of how tight you are - so wet, just for him.

    Only for him.

    As his fingers speed up, your inhibitions disappear, and you fall back against him, hands coming up to tangle in his hair; you pull hard, and his rutting hips falter against you, his mouth falling open with a silent moan of agony - neither of you can take much more of this.

    He buries his face against your shoulder, his focus solely on you, at how you’re so close, coming apart in his hands, under his touch.

    “E-Eddie… Fuck, Eds, I-” Your eyes clench shut, your legs shaking as your feel yourself reaching your end, your vision going hazy, stars shooting behind your eyes. “Eddie…!” you cry, and you fall back against him with a moan loud enough to be heard from outside of his trailer, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rocking through you as his hands work to bring you back down from your high - and Eddie comes apart just after you, teeth sinking into your bare skin as he muffles his screams against you, hips pressing against you as he rides out the hardest orgasm he’s had in years.

    As you both calm yourselves down, you feel him slump against you, head dropping, his hair a curtain over your shoulder.

    “Baby, please let me take you out.” he begs, voice quiet. “I can’t take this anymore.”

    “Take what?” you ask, your heart beating as you pray he means what you think he does.

    “This.” He pulls away from you, his hand gesturing between the two of you. “You. Being friends. I love you, but this is getting way too hard-”

Your eyes go wide, mouth falling open. “You… love me?”

    Eddie pauses; he hadn’t even realized he’d said that. He shakes his head, laughing at himself, dragging a hand through his hair as he looks at you - into you - and says, “Yeah, I-I’ve been in love with you for years. I can’t… I can’t just be friends anymore.” His head drops to his chest, lip catching between his teeth. “Please.”

    You swear your heart’s soaring as you take his face into your hands, leaning over the gap he’d put between you as you capture his lips with your own, giggling at how he’s frozen in shock at the feeling of you kissing him. And, when you finally pull away, your eyes are swimming - happy tears, leaving rivers down your flushed face, dripping onto his blanket.

    “I don’t want to just be friends, either.”

    His smile beams as he pulls you into his arms, pressing kisses all over your face, catching your laugh as he buries his face in your hair - and at your quiet “I love you, too.”, he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him, burying himself in you as he showers you in all the love he’s kept hidden away in his heart all these years.

#becca.fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #please be gentle i didn't proofread this #happy birthday to me