#off beat 1986

[rose-n-gunses]

idk how popular of an opinion this will be but i think that take me home tonight by eddie money would be one of Eddie's guilty pleasure songs

#i am an Eddie Is Not A Music Snob truther #i have this distinct vision of him (pining over chrissy) dropping her off at home #and instead of switching radio stations he leaves it on the top 40 #and that song comes on and he drives home like. windows down beating on the steering wheel screaming the song #(to be fair that feels like the only appropriate way to listen to that song. so. maybe im projecting) #its a shame the song came out in august of 1986 #i think about this all the time btw #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #hellcheer #hellcheer headcanon #eddissy #eddissy headcanon #stranger things #stranger things headcanon #stranger things headcanons #just r's thoughts #r's sick beats

[fuctacles]

A tale as old as time

For @subeddieweek Day 7 | M | 2696 | cw: age gap (about 25-30y difference, Eddie's age is not stated, Steve's aligns with canon) | camboy Eddie, transmasc Eddie, kinda sugar daddy Steve?, modern AU, simp Steve, virgin Eddie, chatfic, pre-anything, gray ace Eddie | Ao3

"Hawkins High '86? How old is this guy?" Eddie asks himself, his eyebrows raised. There is a letterman in front of him, a gift from one of his top subscribers. Hell, his top subscriber. His number-one fan, who was responsible for about half of his revenue.

He's opened a PO box recently, with no little amount of worry about what kind of stuff he might get. He only gave the address to his top subscribers but he knew that the ones with the most money were usually the most unhinged. He went to the post office with his heart in his throat but all he got was a set of lingerie, a toy, and the letterman he was now holding.

He tried not to think about what kind of people would pay for his content. As long as he was making money he didn't care. But now he got a piece of one of them in his hands. Staring back.

1986.

Meaning the guy must be nearing 60. Double Eddie's age. 

He tries to imagine that. An older guy, with wrinkles, maybe a beer belly, a gross old t-shirt, and his hand permanently in his sweats, beating it to his photos. 

It was gross. And in a way, alluring.

Though someone with so much money to spend on a camboy must have a well-paying job. Some rich asshole, exploiting others to do the work for him. That's a more likely scenario. He tries not to think about big, rough hands on him when he puts on the jacket and takes pics for Shar.

He edits them a bit before sending them, knowing the guy will get a kick from seeing him in his jacket. The appeal of wearing your boyfriend's letterman eluded him in high school, but being claimed like that gave him a heady feeling. The fact that the guy could be his father apparently worked for him too. 

He doesn't put his phone away fast enough and sees the message that pops up.

Shar: So hot. You look like every repressed teen jock's dream

Shar: Definitely like mine

Eddie thinks a moment about his response, channeling the persona he takes on for the camera. 

PuppetOfMasters: Would I be your dirty secret?

PuppetOfMasters: Would you fuck me in the locker room behind your girlfriend's back?

Shar: I'd make YOU my girlfriend

Shar: Wait no

Shar: NOT LIKE THAT

Shar: A girlfriend but in a manly way

Eddie snorts.

You're good, he types. I know what you mean, don't worry.

He wouldn't keep around someone who didn't respect him. Besides, he made it clear he's saving for a transition with his Only Fans.

Thank god, Shar types. I respect who you are 

Shar: In fact, I spend so much money on you because of it. 

Eddie rolls onto his other side, his mood souring. One of those trans fetishists, then. That's fine, as long as he's being respectful and paying... Even if it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth. 

Ah, a connoisseur! Well, I hope I'm your favorite tranny, then, he jokes. He waits for an answer, but it doesn't come for a long while, so he flips his phone screen down and turns away, hoping for sleep.

A response is waiting for him when he wakes up. 

Shar: I guess it sounded that way, but I'm not that kind of pervert. You're the only trans sex worker I follow, but not the only trans person I've sent money to.

Eddie sauntered to the bathroom, not taking his eyes off his phone. He wonders if continuing the conversation is even the right move. He's talked to one too many guys who thought sending him a dick pick was okay after ten minutes of small talk between a content creator and a fan.

But he's kind of curious. When he has money to spare, he sends some change to other trans folks to help out, because he knows how hard it is from his own experience. But why Shar, a seemingly loaded old guy, would spend his money on queers instead of, let's say, starving children?

PuppetOfMasters: So you're just an ally with cash? Or is there more to it? I'm curious.

He goes through his morning routine, washing his face, and brushing his teeth, not expecting Shar to get back to him any time soon. So he's surprised when he picks his phone back up and a response is waiting.

Shar: Long story short, I hope my father is rolling in his grave while I spend his inheritance on people he hated so much.

That's not what Eddie expected at all. 

PuppetOfMasters: So I'm a means of rebellion against your bigoted dead father? I'll take that. I hate rich assholes

Shar: Me too

They don't talk for the whole day after that, but when Eddie's done running errands and editing in the evening, he looks back at the letterman hanging on the door of his wardrobe. 

How is sending me your letterman an act of rebellion? he asks. Because he's a curious little shit. 

The response comes fast like the guy is glued to his Only Fans chat. Gross. Eddie wonders briefly if he's talking with other sex workers there.

Shar: A souvenir of his precious high school fetishized on a queer ssex worker? He'd die if he hadn't already

So it is a fetish thing! Eddie smiles triumphantly at his phone.

Shar: Okay, fine

Shar: Sticking it to my father is just a bonus for you being really hot. 

Shar: And I do love seeing you in my letterman, I've jerked off to it three times already

Shar: is that what you wanted to hear?

Eddie grins, rolling on his bed.

PuppetOfMasters: Yes 

Shar: So yeah, I'm an old man who peaked in high school, laugh it up

PuppetOfMasters: I'd rather you peaked in me

Shar: Insufferable

Shar: Menace

Shar: Yeah, I'd love that. A man can dream, right?

Eddie bites his lip. How far is too far? The guy seems genuine and after the amount of creeps that's been chatting him up, he thinks his creep radar is quite good. Tentatively, he starts typing.

PuppetOfMasters: I don't know. I think people would like seeing me get railed by an older guy

Shar: An old guy, you mean

Shar: You'd make a video with me?

PuppetOfMasters: I record most of the sex I have, yes

Shar: Huh. I've never seen one before, then

PuppetOfMasters: warm, warmer

Shar: ... There aren't any?

PuppetOfMasters: din ding ding! ya boy is a virgin

Shar: shit

Shar: fuck

Shar: that's so hot

Shar: you'd let me?

PuppetOfMasters: Would I let my best-paying subscriber be my first time on camera? Probably

Not necessarily to be released but he couldn't lose the possibility of such golden content in case it was watchable. 

Shar: I'd better keep my spot then. Just in case.

PuppetOfMasters: No worries, you seem the most trustworthy so far anyway.

But as he types it, a new notification appears. Shar sent him a hefty tip on one of his photos.

PuppetOfMasters: That's really not necessary

PuppetOfMasters: But I hope your father is kicking and screaming in his coffin

Shar: I fucking hope so

----

It takes Eddie another day to google Hawkins High's yearbook photos. He'd thought about it before but didn't want to break the bubble of anonymity between himself and his fan. But the thoughts of big hands on his hips, and beard rubbing against his neck, took root in his brain and were tainting his mind.

Not fully in tune with his body and distrustful of others, Eddie has been single for most of his life. And now his stupid horny brain was drooling at the thought of losing his virginity to a grandpa on the internet. 

Hoping it would help his thoughts calm down, he looks through the photos from the year 1986, in search of a Harrington. And he finds him.

Steve Harrington. Basketball captain and swim team co-captain. His hairdo was magnificent and his smile was self-confident. Eddie would hate him in high school. Should probably hate him now. So he expands his search further, beyond the Hawkins High memory lane.

He finds one single photo on a LinkedIn profile. 

The current Steve Harrington's hair is no less magnificent, just peppered with silver. He wears glasses now, which accentuate the line of his jaw and make his neatly trimmed facial hair pop out. He's wearing a yellow jacket and a white golf, which should be hideous but weirdly, works for him. Eddie doesn't get to see his eyes, unfortunately. The photo looks like a candid photo shoot take-out after someone told him a joke. His head is tilted down, eyes scrunched and lips pulled in a smile, as a bubbling laugh got immortalized on camera.

Eddie shouldn't be finding a sixty-year-old man this endearing. 

PuppetOfMasters: I like your LinkedIn photo

PuppetOfMasters: Well, I hope it's you. 

PuppetOfMasters: Steve, right?

He can't forget about this for the whole day, not as he budgets his income, and especially not when he records a short video jerking off in the shower. He tries not to look at his phone but it's his only one, so he does while trying to budget in a second one, just for sex work. Maybe then he wouldn't be feeling so insane about not getting a response from a stranger who is an old pervert spending loads of money on him. 

He tries to be normal when a chat notification finally pops up. 

Shar: If you saw the golf and yellow jacket photo, that's me

Shar: though please don't make me type my full name in here.

no worries, Eddie types back so fast he should be embarrassed. It's a good photo.

Shar: Thanks. My best friend took it 

PuppetOfMasters: Your friend has a good eye

Shar: I'll let her know

Shar: I'm surprised it took you this long to search me up

Eddie's surprised too. Usually, his curiosity would take over him sooner.

PuppetOfMasters: I tried not to pry. But I had to in case we were gonna meet up one day

Shar: So you were serious?

Shar: I've been wondering if you sweet-talk all your followers like that 

PuppetOfMasters: Only the ones that don't send me dick pics

Shar: I knew holding back would pay off

Eddie snorts at his phone. 

Though I might need one before we meet up, he types. Gotta know what I'm working with

Shar: Right. Of course

Shar: So how would that work?

Eddie hasn't thought about it this far.

PuppetOfMasters: I need to read about OF's policy on collabs. Never had to before, since I work solo. Would probably have to hire you, well, sign a commission/gig contract or something like that. So it's all legal and shit.

Shar, Steve, doesn't answer for a long while, and it might be the end of his devirginizing journey. Well, if the guy doesn't want to make this legal, put his name on some paperwork, then he isn't trustworthy, and that's the end of it.

It's half an hour later and Eddie's bitten all his nails off trying not to follow up with any messages and focus on anything else when an answer finally comes.

Shar: Sorry my friend was bothering me

Shar: this sounds more complicated than I anticipated. So I would be like, a co-creator, then?

PuppetOfMasters: Precisely

Shar: Holy shit okay

Shar: Thought I'd be you know, less involved

Though you could hit it and quit it, huh? Eddie scrunched his nose. What was he getting himself into? Gods.

Shar: If that's what you wanted I'd take it

Eddie shouldn't be blushing over this one. It's like he's throwing the man scraps and he's licking them up.

PuppetOfMasters: Simp

Shar: I am what I am

Shar: With that said, I'm willing to make it work. Do all the paperwork you need

PuppetOfMasters: Doing paperwork just to fuck me? so romantic

Shar: I suck at paperwork so my friend would be doing it anyway

Shar: If that's okay

PuppetOfMasters: I think it's best if someone looks it over, yeah

Eddie hesitates for a moment.

PuppetOfMasters: That friend doesn't happen to be your wife?

Fuck no, comes the immediate response

Shar: I'm perpetually single and she's as gay as they come. 

PuppetOfMasters: Good. Wouldn't want to be the other girl

Shar: If I had the chance you'd be the only one

PuppetOfMasters: Jesus.

Eddie squeezes his legs together unconsciously.

PuppetOfMasters: Stop sweet talking me, I've already agreed to fuck

Shar: But we haven't signed anything yet. Even then, I'll keep sweet-talking you. It's what you deserve. 

For the first time, Eddie thinks he might not survive their meeting. And not because of the possible killer scenario. Thankfully, Steve gets back to business talk.

Shar: How would this work, legal stuff aside? Do you script this?

PuppetOfMasters: Do I look like I script shit?

Shar: I'm not the one with Only Fans

PuppetOfMasters: Fair. I think we could just set up cameras and do whatever we feel like. Then decide together if the footage will be released or not. 

Shar: Sounds reasonable

Shar:When would you want to do this?

When?

Eddie hasn't thought that far. In fact, he felt like he hadn't been thinking for the past couple of days. 

I'm the sole god of my schedule so I'm open to anything, he types evasively.

Shar: I have some time off next month, could fly to wherever you need me

Next month seemed close. Extremely close. Or maybe it wasn't? He never worked with anyone before. Hell, he didn't even have that many friends to meet up with. 

Next month works I guess, he answers despite his nerves.

Shar: Wanna face time before we start the legal work?

His nerves escalate, making his mouth dry. He reminds himself he's done this before, he's on camera all the time. 

PuppetOfMasters: Like, right now?

Shar: Yeah?

PuppetOfMasters: Ok, give me five minutes.

Eddie shoots up, checks himself in the mirror, and finds a good angle for his phone to set up. He lowkey hopes Steve picks up with his dick in the frame so Eddie can block him with a clear conscience and forget about the whole thing. When six minutes from his last message pass, he hits 'call'.

"Hi," Eddie squeaks when the video connects. Steve Harrington's arms are in the frame, crossed on the desk, and toned where he's leaning on them.

"Hi," he greets him with a dazzling smile. 

It is the guy from the photo, so at least he's not being catfished. And he has none of the creepy simp energy Eddie feared. He's just... a guy. It's both a relief and a disappointment. 

"Well?" the guy asks.

"Well, what?" Eddie frowns. 

"Are you disappointed? Am I too old?"

Eddie looks at him properly. His hair is lighter on the sides, but not grey yet, and the video quality doesn't make any wrinkles stand out to him. Maybe some worry lines, crow's feet if he squints. He looks like he keeps in shape, too. Eddie wouldn't call him old. Mature, maybe. A DILF slowly transforming into a Silver Fox. 

"You look fine. Good. You look good. Attractive," Eddie fumbles with his words and barely stops himself from facepalming. This is why he mostly texts.

Steve smirks at him. And holy shit, a dude twice his age smirking at him shouldn't be doing things to his body.

"You sure? You're not gonna block me after we hang up, are you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"I stand by our plans. You're passing my creep radar so far, but uh..." He scratches his cheek nervously. "I'd like to keep in touch in case, you know. A red flag pops up. I hope you get it."

Steve nods, his expression growing serious.

"Absolutely. We're strangers, after all."

"Yeah." Eddie nods, relieved. It would give him ample time and opportunities to back out.

On the screen, Steve leans more on his arms, closer to the camera. 

"So I think dick assessment is next on the checklist?"

Eddie might not even survive video calls with this guy, after all. 

#subeddieweek #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #cj x subeddieweek #mine #steddie #cw: age gap #camboy au #modern au #transmasc eddie munson #this story got away from me as soon as it started #i just wanted to write some online domming but no #some mmmm older guy touching me???? kinda hot #b u t NO

[morganbritton132]

so I am primarily an Eddie x Chrissy shipper but I ADORE the Eddie Munson TikTok saga with my entire heart

can we get some more insight into how Eddie was affected by Chrissy in your universe?

Thank you for asking this!

I’ve wanted to talk about Chrissy in this AU since the beginning, but I just don’t realistically see Eddie talking about her on his TikTok. Anytime Eddie has so much as alluded to Chrissy over the years, it has stirred up all this drama about that spring break and it always gets back to her family. And he doesn’t want that.

He doesn’t want to remind her remaining relatives of her death. He doesn’t want the accusations that some people still have that he killed her. He doesn’t want to attach all that pain and suffering onto the memory of Chrissy.

She was more than that one awful week in 1986. She was so much more and every time the Hawkins Murders get brought up she becomes less and less a real human person and more just a footnote in a bigger tragedy.

So, he doesn’t talk about her publicly.

So, Eddie honors her in the quiet ways that he can.

He honors her in the tattoo over his heart and in the initials engraved on the inside of the ring he never takes off. He honors her in the silence before every live performance and in all the songs so filled with grief that they’re never performed to an audience.

He honors her in the life he lives.

He tries to at least, because Chrissy is not a ghost that haunts him.

She is a presence that sits beside him. She is the sun warm on his face and tea made just a little too sweet. She is the skip-beat of his heart, the stroke of a guitar, the sadness that seeps behind his eyes. She is an empty house built inside him, and she is the windows he made in those walls, and she is beautiful still. And he misses her. Still

So, he honors her in silent ways when she deserves so much more.

She deserved a life, so he lives his thankful and fully. She deserved the same love that she put into the world, so Eddie never misses an opportunity to show his. She deserved adventure, and travel, and to see a world so much brighter than Hawkins, so when Eddie got the chance. It didn’t feel like running away. It felt like honor.

Eddie knows that he was not always kind.

He knows that he has a capacity for cruelty, that Wayne raised him right but he has shades of his father in him. He knows that for as much as the world othered him, as much as Hawkins ostracized him, he played into it. He othered himself. He grew bristles and thorns young, and he bared them to anybody that got close. He was mean.

He could be so mean, but Chrissy.

She didn’t remember him that day in the woods, but Eddie has always noticed her because she was kind. She was so effortlessly kind to everybody, even to him. She apologized in the hall for bumping his locker. She stopped when he dropped his dice instead of kicking them across the floor.

She smiled at him like he wasn’t a freak, the same smile she smiled at everybody.

She was so kind. It was for everybody. She was kind to him the way that she was kind to everybody else, and it was just… It was never fair. It was never going to be fair.

#I think the raise of true crime podcasts would bother all memebers of the party but Eddie the most #he’s a public figure and people like the notoriety and mystery of the Hawkins Murders #and they talk about Chrissy’s death like she didn’t have a life and a family #like it was cool and not horrific and terrifying #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham

[deathbecomesthem]

A Lesson In Anatomy | 4.5K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Contains smut and feelings. Read at your own risk.

*This story belongs in the No Shelter universe, but it can be read as a one shot. I wanted to make sure this was linked on this blog before I continue the next chapter of the series. Consider this the prequel.

Hawkins, Summer of 1986 - No UD

---

Eddie’s been weird lately. He’s been quiet and almost shy around you, and you’ve spent the last few nights turning over possible reasons for this. In your dark room with only the sound of your fan to accompany the thought spiral your brain pushes you through, you close your eyes and picture your good friend Eddie. His easy smile, his flirtations. He’s become everything to you in the last few months, and it’s putting you on edge to see him pull away from you.

The last time you remember having an easy time with Eddie was two weeks ago, at the lake. The younger kids were spending the hot summer day at the arcade and movie theater, it wasn’t missed on you the way they all had been awkward about stripping down to their bathing suits this summer. No amount of reassurance would change that, only time and maturity. It gave you, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, Steve, Jon, and Argyle a chance to drink and smoke without worrying about being a bad influence.

And flirt. So much of that. Especially with Eddie. He’s gone from acquaintance, to friend, to best friend in the matter of months.

The truth about how you feel about him is between you and yourself. You treat everyone the same, but you have to watch yourself. You have to keep your eyes on him no longer than the others. You have to make sure you take your fingers from his arm after pushing him away, not let the back of your fingers trail down his soft skin to try to pull out the gooseflesh. If you offer him the flame of your lighter, you have to hold it out to everyone. You won’t survive it if you show him your secret desire and he rejects it. It’s better to share your affections openly with everyone if it means he gets the smallest taste of how much he means to you.

So, what happened that day while you all splashed around in the cool lake water? You rewind and playback any scenes you can remember. It was perfect, the hot sun beating down on sweaty bodies, the smell of baby oil in the air. The night before lake day you had been on a date with Dale. You were particularly fresh with everyone. Really turned on the charm.

The night before you and Dale tangled up in each other’s limbs. Dale had pumped in and out of you, his stamina had been impressive. He whispered things in your ear about how good you felt, how wet and warm you felt around him. He’d found the sweet spot on your neck. It was nice. A pleasant experience, especially for the first time with a new lover. Sometimes those experiences were unpleasant, but Dale had even put his mouth on you. He took his time with his tongue spreading your lips and lapping at you. He had drunk you in. It was nice.

“How was your date with Dale last night? Did he hit a home run?” Robin’s whispers were anything but quiet, and her question caught the attention of the boys while they dug around in the cooler next to the two of you.

“Jesus, Robin.” You scold her, but it’s no use. The damage is done, and everyone stands stock-still to hear your answer. These topics are not off the table with all of you, but it’s always hard to talk about when you feel the heat of chestnut eyes watching. “Ok, yeah. We had some fun last night. It was nice.”

“Nice, huh?” Argyle’s smile is skeptical, and he’s too loose right now. The weed he brought with him has made his tongue looser than normal, and it was already untethered. “No fireworks? You guys have been hot and heavy for a while. What happened?”

You consider lying and saying, “oh it was amazing. The heavens opened above my head. I was so close I could feel the pearly gates run across my fingers.” But no. They’d see through it.

“It was nice. I enjoyed it. But no, no fireworks. Maybe with a little bit of, uh – instruction?” You stop talking, fearing you might say something that would be embarrassing for Dale if he knew you were talking about this.

“Oh, no. Does he not know how to eat the peach?” Argyle gasps out the question, and everyone snickers. “You gotta tell him. That’s not right. Did you fake it?”

This is when you realize that not everyone is giggling. Eddie’s face and chest are as red as a tomato. It’s not the first time you’ve talked about your sexual conquests in front of him, but the thought of making anyone in the group uncomfortable pains you. So you pivot. Eddie’s embarrassed and you feel bad about kissing and telling.

“Arg, be a good boy and roll us a joint, hm?” You bat your eyelashes at him and give him your sweetest tone. No harm done, but time to change the subject.

The rest of the day at the lake went by with laughter. No worries for any of you while you ate fruit salad and turkey sandwiches and drank your beers. It was one of those magical days that is both endless and gone in the blink of an eye. A moment captured in your mind’s photo album.

Your eyes pop open. It was that conversation. You know it now. You remember the way Eddie had flushed, and ever since then he’s been off. The two of you talk about everything, you can’t imagine he’s suddenly shy about sex. He loves telling you about his sex-capades. You’ve seen him naked on several occasions, he has no shame. 

Well, maybe he does. Maybe you brushed against a sensitive spot without even realizing it exists.

--

You call Eddie as soon as the clock hits noon. It’s Sunday, he’s not working today. Neither are you. Normally, that would mean the two of you would have some kind of plans, but for some reason you don’t this weekend. That won’t do. You let his phone ring seven times before you hang your back on the receiver.

You look at it for a minute, willing it to ring back with Eddie’s voice being on the other end, but it doesn’t. So, you dial the numbers again. On the fourth ring, you hear a click that tells you your call is being answered this time.

“Hello.” Eddie’s voice is rattling, and you hear him clear his throat while he waits for a response.

“Ed, hey!” You cringe at the sound of your voice, loud and chipper. It’s too much, he just woke up and he’s cranky. He’s always cranky before he gets some kind of caffeine in his system.

“Hey.” His voice is a little clearer. His stilted response is a shot through your gut.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could come over. I miss you, and I want some Ed time.” Your words are true, and your meaning is clear.

“That’s sweet,” Eddie clears his throat again, a stalling measure. You think he’s going to say no, and you feel panic start to set in when he lets out a heavy breath. “Uh, yeah, come over. We can hang. I miss you too.”

--

You make your way to his place slowly. You stop at the gas station on the way to fill up despite having half a tank already and make sure to grab Eddie’s favorite candy – Twizzlers – before hopping back into the driver’s seat. It’s a sweaty day, and your car doesn’t have air conditioning. The open windows do little more than move the sweat crawl across your skin. It’s an unsettling feeling that only stirs up the anxiety you feel in the pit of your stomach more. You feel like you’re walking into the line of fire, and you don’t know why.

Eddie’s sitting on the worn sofa outside of his trailer when you pull your car up to his place. He’s in sweats, and he looks like he’s just woken up even though hours have passed since your phone call earlier. The cigarette he’s holding between his fingers is burned to the filter, yet he still takes one last drag before dropping it into the bucket next to the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Sugar.” Eddie’s greeting falls short. His smile is small and doesn’t reach the corner of his eyes. You can see lines running down his puffy face. He must have gone back to bed after talking to you. You brace yourself for grouchy Eddie.

“Eddie,” you’re bringing enough energy for the both of you as you bound up the stairs to reach him, “I brought your favorite. Come on.” You don’t wait for an answer, you grab his hand to bring him inside the trailer. It’s too hot to sit outside, and he has a window unit in his bedroom that will keep you cool enough for the time being.

You pretend to not notice that his feet are dragging while you pull. It’s occurred to you just now that he’s pouting about something. He’s mad at you or annoyed at least. That won’t do either. He needs to quit being a child and talk to you.

“Sit.” You point to the edge of his bed. You catch a small eye roll before he flops himself down. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. He really does look like a little kid being put into time out.

You pull over the chair he has sitting in the corner and face it towards him before taking your own seat. Eye to eye, you look at him and try not to be distracted by the way his eyes pull at you. They always do. You push it back and remember that he’s your friend, and you’re here because – why? Because something has upset him, and it’s something you did or said. You match his posture and put your own head into your hands and keep your eyes on his even when he looks down to the side.

“Eddie, my sweet Eddie. I love you a lot, but I’m not giving you a single Twizzler until you tell me why you’re mad at me.” You’re keeping it light, but you feel like a knife is cutting you deep.

“I’m not mad at you, Sugar. I’ve just been in my own head is all. It happens, I’m sorry.” Eddie’s still not looking back at your face. His fingers have started drumming across his cheek and his left leg has started to bounce. His eyes are still fixed to a spot on the carpet at your feet when one of his hands darts out to grab a strand of licorice from the bag in your hands, but you’re too quick and scoot your chair back a couple of inches.

“Ok, you’re not mad. Cool. Then why can’t you even look at me right now, huh?” Eddie’s eyes finally connect with yours as an act of defiance, but you accept it as a win. “Is it because I was talking about Dale? That’s –“

“Sugar, I don’t want to talk about it. You can keep the Twizzlers.” Eddie’s spitting venom in your direction, and you’re even more confused.

“Great, I’ll keep the Twizzlers. Jesus Christ, Ed. You’re acting like a child, what did I do, huh? Other than say I had a nice time with Dale. And I did, it’s not his fault he doesn’t know what the clit is!” You’re ranting at Eddie, spitting your own words at him hoping they cut enough to reopen the wound that he’s trying so hard to hide from you. His face drains of color while you tear at him.

“It’s not about Dale, Sugar. It’s not about you either.” His eyes are softer as he scans your face. His own anger seems to have faded away when you met it with your own. “Not really, anyway. It’s embarrassing.”

You think now about how he’s been acting, and yes, that feels true. He’s holding onto some private humiliation, and whatever you said under that hot summer sun seems to have wounded him.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed with me, Ed. I love you, you’re like my best friend.” There are tears in your voice, and you’re biting them back. “Not like, you are my best friend these days. Don’t you know that?”

You can see the gears turning with the beat of his bouncing leg. He looks like he’s ready to explode, and you worry for a moment. If his humiliation is deep enough, he’ll lash out at you, and you may never be able to make amends with him. You’re like two fires spitting sparks at each other, and you’re afraid something important might burn.

Eddie’s demeanor is guarded, but he speaks after a moment. He’s trusting you with this secret that’s been gnawing at him, “Sugar, I know you like to chat with our friends, but this is strictly between me and you.” You take his hand in yours and give him a nod of understanding, urging him to continue. “When you and Argyle were talking about Dale, it made me think about something that’s been buggin’ me.”

You keep your features lax. You don’t want to express the confusion you’re feeling. You want him to keep going. So, you squeeze his hand a little tighter letting your flesh dig into the metal cross he wears on his middle finger.

“I, uh, I think I’m doin’ it wrong.” Eddie’s mouth moves, but his eyes stay focused on yours. He’s watching for any acknowledgement of what he’s saying. You give none, so he continues. “When I’m,” he breathes through his nose in frustration, “when I’m ‘eating the peach’, girls never seem to like it as much as I thought they would. Or sometimes I think they’re pretending.”

“Oh.” You can’t hide the surprise in your voice because this is not what you expected. Eddie Munson doesn’t give good head? That seems so unlikely you can’t help but huff out a laugh. “No, I’m sorry. Ed, I’m not laughing at you. You’re telling me that the girls you’re with don’t like it when you eat them out?”

“I don’t know. They never complain. Never. I just know something is off. I can tell. I could spend an hour down there, and I’m not getting the results, Sugar. Can you help me?” Eddie accentuates his plea by grabbing both of your hands and holding them tightly in his own. You can feel his calloused fingertips and can’t help but imagine what they must feel like against your most sensitive places. “Help me Sugar-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.”

His joke works, and the tension is broken. You tear your hands from him and grab the bag of Twizzlers off your lap and toss them in his face before hopping on the bed next to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, you’ve missed this easy intimacy, and the dam is broken now. You can talk to him. No more secrets.

“Yes, Ed. I can help you. But you’re going to have to explain to me what your process is if you want my help. Or, uh” you stop yourself before you say anything that can be misinterpreted exits your giant mouth. “you know what, let’s just start with you telling me and we’ll go from there.”

You can’t see the way that Eddie’s eyebrows raise up under his fringe, because your cheek is resting against his arm, but you don’t miss the way something moves under his gray sweatpants. Your own eyes bulge, and you think you must have imagined it.

Eddie’s nerves are gone, and he dives in. He goes into great detail about how he uses his tongue. How he likes to lay it flat against their slit and drag it across their soft hole. How he runs a finger along that path. How it feels when he pushes his tongue inside someone. What it tastes like. You’re so thankful he can’t see your face, but you’re afraid he can feel the skin of your cheek burn through his shirt. You’re afraid he’ll catch a whiff of the arousal that’s pooling between your legs. You try to focus on his words, on his descriptions. It sounds wonderful, the thought of him tasting you the way he’s describing. It takes great effort to remember that you’re supposed to be helping him. And then you realize.

“Eddie, what about their clit?” You interrupt his diatribe about how soft the inner lips feel against his tongue, unlike anything he’s ever had in his mouth before, “it’s nice to feel a tongue like that, don’t get me wrong, but don’t you ever play with their clit?”

Eddie stops talking completely, so you peel your face off his shoulder to look at him. He looks confused and annoyed. Oh no.

“Sugar, can you elaborate for me?” Eddie’s voice is level but edged with something. The embarrassment is back, and you can see him fighting against it. He trusts you to not make fun.

“Oh, Ed. I’m sorry. Do you want me to explain what a clitoris is?” You ask the question with nonchalance in your voice. He doesn’t know it, but just mentioning the small sex organ has yours throbbing in answer. It’s saying, yes, tell him. Tell him how you want him to touch and suck. Tell him how to take me between his pretty red lips.

“Yes, please. I feel really stupid, but I don’t know what that is. Christ, I’ve been with loads of women, and no one has fucking mentioned-“ You put your hand over his mouth before he can continue. You don’t want to hear about loads of other women right now.

“Eddie, think about your own,” you motion down to the crotch of his pants, “business.” He giggles at you, low and sweet. “Shut up. Think about your dick, ok? You know when a girl’s giving you head, and she sucks real nice at the tip?”

Eddie gulps, you imagine he’s thinking about Cindy Manes’ cherry-colored lips wrapped around the head of his hard cock. Spit gathering at the corners of her perfect mouth. He nods and you continue.

“Women have a little spot above the vagina. It’s up close to wear the seam of our slit begins. It’s like a kind of hard nub.” You let yourself get lost in the technical stuff, it makes it easier to push on and forget that your legs are sticky from how turned on this entire situation has you. “It’s like the head of your dick, only more sensitive. Most women can’t have an orgasm unless you stimulate it. It will get bigger when we get aroused, kind of like when you get hard only it’s a lot smaller than what you’ve got.”

Like the cat that’s got the cream, you see Eddie smirking, “Yeah, what I’ve got is a lot bigger.” He spreads his hands a foot apart and his eyes go as wide as his shit eating grin.

The tension in the air evaporates, and you grab his midsection to tickle him. You want to make him pay for being crass. You want to make him pay for making you laugh at such a childish joke. It’s hands grappling for a moment before you find yourself underneath Eddie with his hair covering both of your faces like a curtain. His nose is almost touching yours, and for a moment you’re breathing each other’s air. You can feel his erection dig into your thigh, and you know now that he feels it too. That this conversation isn’t just embarrassing because he didn’t know, but because it’s with you. Someone he wants.

You lift your head off his mattress and meet his lips with yours. You wait to see. Let him decide if he wants to open his mouth and let you inside. A beat passes, and his lips part as his knee makes its way between your legs giving him leverage. A hand is behind your head. As your lips dance and tongues meet, your head drops back into the mattress. You’re holding onto each other and trying to keep yourself in this spot without floating off. This is what you’ve wanted for so long, and there’s no going back.

“Eddie, hey,” you manage to pull your lips away from him despite his own desperately chasing after them. Instead, he busies his with that spot on your neck just behind your ear while you talk, “Eddie. Do you want me to show you what I was talking about?”

Eddie’s hum sends a vibration against your skin, his teeth begin to skate against your skin. He answers around your flesh and his words shoot straight through you and down into the place that’s been aching for him, “Yes, Sweetheart. I wanna make you see stars.”

The following kisses are hungry, messy. Spit pools under your tongue while his knee presses into your center. Your fingers thread through his hair, and you pull to release the need that’s thrumming inside you. His whimper is music to your ears. You think this is a dream, and you do not care. Let it be. For now, you have him, even if it’s only in your imagination. He’s yours to taste, to smell, to touch, to hear. And you belong to him.

“Please, Eddie. Please.” You pull his hair harder, pulling him away from your face so you can see him. His mouth is open, his eyes are wide. His groan is deep in his chest, and he is looking into you. Just for a moment, he’s seeing you. He’s not just touching someone, kissing someone, he’s with you.

“I’m yours. Anything, my love. Everything I have. Show me.” He tells you while he gently removes your hand from his hair so he can make his journey south. It’s slow, and he kisses your clothed body every few inches during his descent until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He rests his head against your hip while his fingers work at your button fly. Each pop sends a jolt of anticipatory pleasure through you. You’re already writhing under his attention. He’s shushing you while he gently pulls your jeans down to your ankles and over your feet.

“You smell so sweet. I should have known, Sugar. This is better than I ever could have thought.” Eddie’s running his finger down your slit, over the cotton of your purple underwear. When you put them on this morning, you would not have admitted that you chose them for Eddie. They’re high cut with lace along the edges. Prettier than an everyday pair.

“You’re teasin’ me, Ed.” You manage to breathe the words out while your hips rock up to meet his finger. Your body is begging for more than what he’s giving you.

“Not teasin’. These are pretty,” Eddie hooks a finger under the waistband of your underwear, brushing against the soft hair underneath. He pulls them down so he can see you fully and lets out a breath of relief. “But not as pretty as this is.”

Eddie kisses your mound sweetly while a finger begins to dance between the lips of your pussy. He’s dipping into you gently, gathering the wetness there, before he adds more pressure. He’s mapping you, exploring with quiet patience. He’s listening, he’s tasting, he’s feeling. And then, while his mouth searches around the edges of your hips, his finger brushes against that spot. The one he’s only just learned about.

“There.” It’s a whisper, a prayer, spoken into the air around you. You only know he hears you when his mouth travels across your skin to meet the tip of his finger. He feels it now, he rubs at it, gently. He wants to memorize how it feels, he needs to know how to find it again. And then, his mouth is on your button. The tip of his tongue dances around.

You know there are words and sounds coming out of your mouth, and Eddie hears them all. While his mouth works, he doesn’t just listen to you, he hears you. Each sound, each word is an instruction. It’s a game of hotter and colder. He wants you to burn, to catch fire. So he hears you and moves accordingly.

You vaguely know that there are fingers inside of you, and you think you’ll have to teach him how to use them next time. Next time. You two have time. For now, you let yourself get lost in his mouth. You let him consume you. He knows what he’s doing now because you’ve taught him. He knows the secret that so many men never learn. Eddie is the best student when it comes to pleasure. When it comes to learning you.

Your orgasm builds quickly, your face is turned and buried in his pillow. You smell him on it while your hips rock up and meet his perfect mouth. Waves of pleasure that come faster and faster. His lips are holding tight to your nub. He’s never letting it go now that he knows what it can do. His fingers move with the rhythm of your hips, until it happens.

The sounds that leave your mouth are choked sobs. Your cunt is fluttering around his digits, and his mouth works you through each intense flash of pleasure. The stars behind your eyelids dance along with your body. You sit in your peak and groan like an animal until your body finally drops back into the mattress. Eddie’s mouth reluctantly pulls away from you when you firmly push his forehead away from you.

Eddie’s head rests against the bare flesh of your center. You can feel his hot breath fan across your wet pubic hair while you let the aftershocks slowly wane. You’re needy when you reach down and pull him up by the collar of his shirt. You need his face, you need his skin. You need his arms. He smells of you. His arms pull a blanket around your bare body. The cool air of the window unit has made your skin break out in gooseflesh. Eddie’s fingers run gently across your features, watching the way your open mouth still takes short and shallow breaths while you return to yourself.

He stays like that for a few moments. The uncomfortable cold and wet feeling in his pants becomes too much, and he gently shushes you when you reach out for him when he loosens his embrace.

“Just give me a minute, Sugar. Let me change.”

You watch him with blurry eyes as he deposits his pants and boxers, wet with his own cum, and puts on fresh clothes. You see his flaccid cock and think that next time you’ll show him how good your mouth can feel. You need a little nap first, in the embrace of Eddie. Your Eddie. 

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #no shelter

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie's hard work has finally paid off. Corroded Coffin is the new sensation and soon enough, Eddie gets an invitation for an interview, one that could promote the band on a much larger scale. He's excited but also terrified and Steve, being the supportive boyfriend he is (and also CC's unofficial mascot, "the yellow sweater boy" or simply "Stevie" to the fans) offers to go with Eddie. Eddie introduces Steve as his "emotional support ex-jock" and it goes well.

Until it doesn't.

Eddie gets more lively as he talks about the band's beginnings, the inspiration behind their songs and their influences, his own musical idols and influences. He's at ease, gesturing animatedly as he explains the evolution of the band's style, so he's caught off guard when the interviewer brings up that fateful spring of 1986. Eddie freezes, opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The memory of snapping bones, feeling of helplessness...it all comes flooding back.

But where Eddie feels like curling up into a ball and hoping the world will finally leave him alone, Steve is ready and prepared. He grasps Eddie's shoulder - Eddie blurted out a confession in one of his concerts so it's no secret for his fans that they're together, but why tempt fate - and gives the reporter a wide smile, sincere to someone who doesn't know him. He slips into his charming persona and speaks for the first time during the interview. "Thank you for asking this question," he says and the drop of poison easily dissolves in the sweetness of his voice. "I hope my recollection will be enough because I sure don't want to have Eddie go through all that horror again. But I assure you...I was there for nearly all of it. So ask away. I'm glad to finally set the record straight."

And so Steve talks about that March, about how Eddie found Chrissy dead in his trailer, mutilated in such an inhumane way his body took control and got him out, no call to the police, not a single thought. He mentions there was a witness who saw him enter the trailer and immediately stumble out, not enough time to harm anyone (Max has stuck to this story and never changed it, no matter how much anyone pushed). He talks about how he met Eddie later, how shaken he was and how the town started a manhunt for Eddie for no good reason, except that he was different. "He started a club for kids who were outcasts, who just wanted to remain children for a bit longer - and the whole town went to hunt them down. They attacked a thirteen year old girl. They beat up a fifteen year old boy just for belonging to the club."

Now it's Eddie's turn to grasp Steve's shoulder, his arm, worried about his sharp tone, his hardly contained anger. But Steve carries on, staring the reporter down as he stutters that he will have to verify this information. "This is rather different from the official story," he says, his forehead glistening with sweat.

And Steve just flashes the disarming smirk that established him as King Steve once upon a time and tells him to verify it all, please. Because Eddie Munson has nothing to hide and neither does the Corroded Coffin. "It's not different if you paid any attention to the police report," he mentions calmly, leaning back in the chair. "People don't like to speak ill of the dead, but a dead person is exactly who's at fault here. Jason Carver riled up the mob. He bought a revolver after he did that, publicly for self-protection, but..." he shrugs, buries the edge in his voice under his charm yet again. "We have a witness that heard him admit who it was for." Dead men tell no tales, but Nancy Wheeler sure does.

And as the reporter scrambles to put together a coherent thought, Steve lands the finishing blow. "It's a shame you only invited Eddie to discuss this," he says and the sympathy in his voice is almost believable. "After all, his band mates were also targeted and attacked."

The reporter stares at him, speechless.

"Oh, you didn't know?" The disbelief is genuine for once and he leans in, looks the man straight in the eye. "Jason Carver and his friends went to interrogate the band, you know. Only to talk, they said. Except they almost broke Gareth's hand during that talk. Once again...there is a witness. A different one, if you were about to ask. Perhaps you should talk to them too, I can give your their contact details. You know," he adds, smiling at the reporter, "I am incredibly thankful you brought this up. There aren't many who are willing to dig up old wrongs to set things right. I wasn't sure what to expect of this interview, there was always a possibility of someone malicious taking advantage of this traumatizing event, just to get a shocking scoop on a bunch of guys who have worked incredibly hard to get where they are. I was wary because there are always people willing to destroy lives just to get a bit further in theirs. I'm so grateful you aren't one of them. Because I see you as someone who wants to do more than shock their audience...I think you're someone who wants the truth, no matter how ugly it is."

And no matter what the reporter intended before, he is that man now. He nods frantically, assuring Steve that he will bring justice to Eddie and the Corroded Coffin. Steve Harrington has that effect on people - if he believes in someone, that belief is often enough to give that final push. Anything to keep Steve Harrington's faith, not to disappoint that earnest look in his eyes. Eddie almost feels sorry for the reporter - after all, he knows the best what his boyfriend is like when he doesn't hold back. It's a sight to behold.

After a few reassurances from the reporter, the man finally turns to Eddie. "I apologize for bringing up bad memories, Eddie," he says and perhaps this time he means it. Eddie would like to believe that. "Is there...would you like to add anything?"

Eddie thinks screw it and firmly grasps Steve's hand, homophobia be damned. He needs to get through this. "Yes, actually..." he says and his voice is low, almost broken, but at least it's coming out now, carrying the words he's wanted to shout at the world for years now. "That night...was probably the worst night of my life. Worse than when I almost died. Well. When I actually died before someone brought me back," he smiles at Steve, briefly, before turning back to the man scribbling down every word. "It took me a long time to realize I couldn't have done anything to save Chrissy. Hell, some days I still don't believe myself, I'm thinking if I've done something differently, been faster, but...in the end, it didn't matter. Doesn't stop me from feeling like I failed her."

Steve knows these things, of course. That's why he doesn't interrupt, just strokes his thumb over Eddie's whitening knuckles.

"Chrissy Cunningham was a wonderful, bright girl. She was friendly to everyone, even outcasts like me. There is no way in hell I'd ever want to harm someone that...that warm. Kind. The truth of the matter is - for years I didn't defend myself against these accusations that still appear from time to time, no matter what the official investigation said. I didn't sue anyone even though I was advised several times to do so, for the slander, the attempts at my life. Because you...because I felt guilty just for being there. For surviving when she didn't." He looks at the reporter with full force now, straightens his spine. "But I knew Chrissy Cunningham and I know she wouldn't want anyone feeling guilty for something they didn't do. She brought joy to others, not misery. And I want to honor her memory. So once and for all, for the record - I didn't kill Chrissy. I never hurt her, couldn't have. But I still keep her with me as an inspiration, as a soothing voice behind every bitter thought - I don't talk about her, don't use her story for publicity because she didn't, doesn't deserve that. But she's what I think of when I see bright smiles of our fans, when I see young people having fun at our concerts - I wish, more than anything, that she could have been one of them. So I try to bring as much joy into this world as I can to make up for the empty space she left behind, even if that might never be enough. That's all."

The interview spreads like a wildfire. Headlines like "Corroded Coffin's Eddie Munson breaks silence for the first time!" or "CC's frontman reveals details of persecution and mass hysteria in 1986". The news pick up the story, question the people in Hawkins who deflect or begrudgingly admit to their actions, justifying their deeds...but some of them talk. Karen Wheeler becomes the star of the show, recalling in horror the hunt for her daughter and her son's friends. "I vouch for Steve Harrington's recollection," she says firmly, shushing her husband's feeble attempts at deflection. "I'm glad someone finally had the courage to call the spring of 1986 what it really was - a witch hunt."

Eddie finally has the courage to do what he's wanted for years - he names the next album This One's For You, Chrissy. The world knows now, it knows that he mourned for her in his own way and that she meant so much to him, as a first extended hand, as a symbol, as a human being. He donates as many profits as he can to a foundation in Chrissy's name, providing the much needed mental health support to Hawkins children and teenagers. And piece by piece, Eddie Munson heals.

Before the interview becomes the sensation it is, Eddie crushes Steve in a hug and thanks him for everything, for making this burden easier. He's still worried his words will get twisted, that there will be a new wave of hatred, but Steve just chuckles and kisses his head. He reaches into the leather satchel he had at the interview and presents Eddie with a dictaphone - everything they've just talked about recorded. "Please, Eddie," he rolls his eyes in that bitchy way that has Eddie swooning, "I may be pretty, but I'm not stupid or naive."

Apart from the much needed closure and at least partial justice, there is an unusual side effect to this whole ordeal - Steve gets a new nickname in the Corroded Coffin fan base. After the way he handled the interview, after shielding Eddie and his band mates from unwanted attention, he becomes "The Guard Dog Steve", also lovingly referred to as "Golden Retriever Steve". Eddie loves it. Steve finds it ridiculous, but it makes Eddie smile so maybe it's worth it.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie drabble #corroded coffin #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things drabble #protective steve harrington

[resident-gay-bitch]

Single teen dad steve who’s kid comes out as trans kinda young and fuck it’s the late 80’s early 90’s - post upside down - and he’s freaking out because he just wants the best for his little kid. She- he has always been Steve’s biggest priority and he loves his kid no matter what and he’s gonna embrace the hell out of it, but he has worries about it all because he’s in small town Hawkins and people here get beat up for being rumoured to be gay, what the hell is gonna happen to his kid??

But mainly, he has no idea how to help. He doesn’t know anything about it. Robin assists where she can but she’s just as in the dark about it as Steve.

Then comes one night, Axl (they’re trying out new names each month and this month Axl is obsessed with Gunners so it’s only appropriate) is having a panic attack over his dysphoria and Steve is trying his best to help. He can’t bind, doesn’t know how to do it on his own without it hurting really bad, and Steve is trying to help but Axl won’t let anyone see any part of him without a shirt and so it’s hard. They tried to figure out how to do it on Steve’s bare chest but it’s not really the same. Eventually Axl cries himself to sleep about it with Steve sitting on the end of his bed because Axl didn’t want to even be touched after a while.

And Steve doesn’t sleep that night, he stays up half the night trying to bind his own chest correctly, then he tapes balloons and stuffed toys to the front of this big bear they have and tries to bind on that. But nothings working, and he can’t help but feel like he’s failed his kid. He debated calling Robin up to see if she’d come over and he could try binding her chest to figure it out, he knows she’ll say yes because she cares about Axl so much and also won’t care if Steve sees her bare chest as he has before, but she’s out of state for work for a whole other week. He just cries until it’s time to get up for work and school.

Axl is wearing a baggy shirt under an even baggier hoodie, even though it’s the middle of summer. Steve wants to tell him to take it off, to make sure he doesn’t faint today, but he knows that’s only gonna make things worse - everyone at school still thinks he’s a girl. He makes sure to pack ice packs in Axl’s lunch bag and extra ice in his water bottle.

He goes to work and thinks about it all day, then he gets home to find a note on the counter from Axl, saying he’s popped across the street to study with Melody for a while. They’ve been friends since they were little, and she’s the only one from school who knows so far. Steve’s glad Axl’s doing something to distract himself rather than rotting away in bed and making himself feel more sick about it.

Halfway through cooking himself dinner (and by cooking he means microwaving whatever the fuck he can find in the fridge) he gets a knock on the door. It’s Eddie. Of course it’s Eddie. They had plans to catch up for a beer down the pub tonight, since they hadn’t seen eachother in a while now. Steve had been so distracted today he completely forgot.

Steve apologises to Eddie and tells him he’s just been so stressed today and he couldn’t talk to Robin about it and everything is just so complicated, he just breaks down and cries right then and there in his doorway.

And Eddie, being the kind soul that he always has been, pulls Steve into a hug and lets him cry about it.

They sit down at the table together and crack open a couple of beers and eat the microwaved leftovers. And they chat and Steve forgets about everything for a little while. Eddie does that to him; makes Steve forget everything else in the world doesn’t exist besides Eddie.

He’s tried to snuff his stupid feelings for Eddie out for years, since 1986. It hasn’t worked. But Eddie’s been between relationships, and Steve’s had Axl to worry about so trying to have anything serious has been so hard and pointless. No one wants an instant pre-teen, and especially not Eddie who has expressed he doesn’t want kids several times. It’s pointless.

So very pointless.

But Steve wants him anyway.

Eddie asks about Axl, as he always does. He cares about Steve’s kid the way he cares about Dustin, sort of. They get along, but Eddie kinda gets awkward around him for some reason and Axl gets very flustered around Eddie. Steve found it adorable when he was little, Eddie with his long hair and tattoos, he always through it was cool. And as Axl got older, the more he’d avoid Eddie in hopes of not fanboying over Eddie’s band, or tattoos, or his guitar.

But they don’t really see eachother much these days, so now that Axl’s fourteen and too cool to ask questions when Steve brings Eddie up, who knows what they’d be like around eachother?

Eddie’s asking questions, completely oblivious as he asks how “she’s going” and if “she’s surviving her first year of highschool” and blah blah blah, and Steve knows it’s because he doesn’t know. But it messes with his head anyway, because that’s his boy their talking about, not his girl, and it’s been bothering him all day and Steve just-

He crumbles. He opens up to Eddie and tells him everything on his mind right now. How Axl is really a boy, and how they’re trying out new names, and how Steve feels like he’s failing his kid because he doesn’t know how to help him bind, or feel safe, or come out at school, or what to do to get him on testosterone or if that’s even an option and-

Eddie places his hand on Steve’s and smiles so softly, “You’re struggling to bind?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, it’s like- his chest… he- he’s doesn’t-“

“Yeah, I- I know, Steve.” Eddie nods, “Would Axl be okay with me knowing this? Or, like, not?”

“I don’t know.” Steve so sobs, “I shouldn’t have said anything without his permission, but I just trusted you and I needed to talk to- to someone. And I’m…”

“Okay.” Eddie cleared his throat, “okay, will Axl be home tonight?”

“Yeah.” Steve sniffled and checked his watch, “It’s almost curfew.”

“Okay. Have you got any bandages? Or what have you been using?”

“Yeah, bandages… cloth.” Steve rubbed his nose.

“That’s okay, uhm, how about you go get those for me?”

Steve, confused but too mentally tired to think much of it, goes and does just that. He brings back the rolls of bandages and cloth they were using and dumps them on the table in front of Eddie. Eddie smiles and moves the cloth aside, looking at the strip of bandages.

“The wider ones are better. These are a little thin, but… does he use a sports bra most days?”

Steve nods.

“Okay, I suggest getting some wider bandages. But I can make these work.” Eddie grins.

“What?” Steve grumbles.

“Come here.” Eddie shuffles his chair over to Steve, “Arms up, not up in the air but like, out so I can get around.”

Steve follows his command yet again, and watches with confused eyes as Eddie begins to wrap the bandage around Steve’s chest, talking him through the process; where to place his hands for best compression, and insisting it can’t be too tight or it will hurt.

“It probably won’t be perfectly flat, they never are, but it will be better.” Eddie smiled, “Surgery is always an option, but they won’t let him get that until he’s like, eighteen.”

“How do you-“

“Hey, dad, sorry I’m late, I have a math test tomorrow and we-“ Axl chattered, walking through and shutting the door, “… uhm, hi Eddie.”

“Hi!” Eddie grinned and waved at Axl before looking back at Steve’s chest and fastening the bandage together with the clip at Steve’s side.

“What are you doing?”

Steve felt his heart drop, “I’m- I’m sorry, kid, I shouldn’t have told him but- I was just, I needed someone to talk to, and- It’s not and excuse-“

“No, it’s not.” Axl dumped his bag down on the kitchen counter and walked over, “You should ask before assuming.”

“I know.” Steve furrowed his brow, “I don’t usually-“

“But it’s okay because it’s just Eddie.” Axl shrugged and leant down to look at the bandges wrapped tight around Steve’s chest, “I figured you’d already told all of your friends.”

“Nope.” Eddie shook his head and smiled, “He certainly did not. Cool name, by the way- Guns and Roses?”

“Yeah.” Axl nodded.

“Sick.” Eddie grinned.

“Did you do this?” Axl pointed to the bandages.

“Wait, you’re not upset with me?” Steve asked.

“No, I know you’re not just gonna out me to some cunt who’s gonna beat me up-“

“Language.” Steve pressed.

“Besides, Eddie’s gay and a self proclaimed Freak, out of most of your friends he’s the least likely to judge.”

“Right you are, little gremlin.” Eddie smiled up at him.

“I’m still sorry.” Steve murmured.

“Don’t be.” Axl playfully punched his arm.

“Also, to answer your question,” Eddie continued, “Yes, this is how you bind. I can show you how to do it, if you like? I suggest bigger bandages but this can work for now.”

“Yes please.” Axl nodded, and Eddie immediately started to unwound the bindings on Steve’s chest.

He re-tied it, talking step by step to Axl, and then he got Axl to bind Steve’s chest himself, Eddie talking him through the process.

Then, Eddie got Axl to do it on himself, over his baggy jumpers, because it’s a little different doing it on someone else. Steve sat at the table and watched in awe as Eddie animatedly talked Axl through the process, and Axl couldn’t wipe his smile off his face.

The moment it was done he raced off to his room to do it properly. Eddie went and got them another beer.

“Thank you.” Steve smiled at him, “So much.”

“No problem, Steve-o.” Eddie grinned, “I have not done that in a while, it was kinda fun.”

“What do you mean?” Steve furrowed his brow, and Eddie shrugged and pulled up his shirt.

The first thing Steve noticed was the added ink Eddie had gotten since ‘86. The second thing he noticed was the bat bites scattered over his skin. And the third… two scars stretching along his chest.

Steve remembered being back there, crying and trying to add compression on all of Eddie’s scars. He remembered finding bandages already wrapped around Eddie’s chest, under his clothes, but he thought nothing of it, figured Eddie had cut his chest open or something. Not… this.

Eddie blushed and lowered his shirt, shrugging up at Steve.

“Oh my god.” Steve muttered, and Eddie just stared at him, “Holy shit, you’re like Axl?!”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, and then a couple of seconds later Axl was body slamming into the back of Eddie and wrapping himself around him.

“I didn’t think anyone was like me here.” Axl mumbled, obviously trying to not cry, “I always thought you’d be the coolest out of dad’s friends.”

Eddie snickered and gave Axl a hug back, “How’d you go, did you get it?”

“I think so.” He said, stepping back and showing off to them. It’s the first time Steve had seen him wear anything less than a baggy shirt. He was dressed in a cropped muscle tee, and he looked so confident.

Steve started to cry.

“Hey! Look at you, it looks so good, kid.” Eddie grinned, “If you want I can show you how to draw facial hair on to look realistic.”

“Fuck yeah.” Axl grinned, “I want a moustache.”

Eddie snickered and looked back at Steve, his face dropped when he saw him crying, “Hey, Stevie-“

“Thank you.” Steve sobbed and buried his head in his hands, “Holy fuck, thank you so much.”

Eddie smiled softly, “It’s no issues, of course. Anything to help a fellow freak like me, huh?” He smiled up at Axl, “I should be thanking you, it feels nice to have another person like me around again.”

“Do you know more people like us?”

Eddie nodded, “You know my friend Gareth? Yeah, he’s like us, and a two more people but they’re not in town.”

“Oh my god, really?!” Axl grinned, “This is so awesome, can I please come to one of your gigs or something?��

“I thought you were too cool for that stuff?” Steve snickered.

Axl flipped him off, “I just wanna meet him… as a guy.”

Eddie leant out and ruffled Axl’s hair, “Yeah, kid, whenever you like- though, a band practice would be more ideal for a fourteen year old.”

Axl frowned dramatically and went to get himself a drink.

“Seriously, Eddie, thank you.” Steve murmured, “I haven’t seen him that happy in… not in years. He’s just a kid, he’s meant to be that happy every day.”

Eddie nodded, “I know how he feels. I knew I was different really young too, and when I was about twelve I told my mum and she told me to never tell anyone. And then she died, when I was sixteen, and I ended up telling dad for some- I don’t even know why, he beat the shit out of me and I ran away. Like, away away, up to Indi. Wayne found me then, when my dad told him what happened, and bought me home and let me be Eddie.” He shrugged, “I remember the first time I tried binding with duct tape, Wayne found me crying in front of the mirror about it and he came in with bandages and helped me figure it out. I went on testosterone when I turned eighteen, so.”

Steve smiled, “I’m sorry you went through that, Eddie.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been going through this clueless. Wayne had no idea either, he’s got a book on how to look after trans kids now, but he didn’t back then, I can tell you that.” Eddie laughed, “Thanks for being his dad, and like, being a good one.”

“He’s my kid, I can’t just… of course, I love him.”

Eddie smiled, “You don’t know how rare that is for people like Axl and I.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“Me either.” Eddie hummed, “You’re a really good dad, Steve. A really good guy.”

“I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.”

“Yeah, but you care. More than most people do. You care so much.” Eddie gently took Steve’s hand into his own, “I’m sure you already know but being Axl’s dad isn’t gonna be easy, especially not in fucking Hawkins, but so long as you just stick around and… care, then things are gonna be a whole lot easier for him. It means so much to him, and me, even.”

Steve smiled at him and squeezed Eddie’s hands as a thank you, “Can you stick around too?” He asked, “Help Axl in the places I cant?”

Eddie grinned, “Yeah, of course I can, Stevie.”

“Thank you.” Steve sighed, rubbing his temples, “You have no idea how grateful I am that you’re in my life.”

There was a moment of silence before Eddie whispered, “You have no idea how grateful I am that you’re in mine.”

They looked at eachother, and Steve felt his heart in his throat.

“Okay…” Axl murmured, rolling back over to the table, “You guys are clearly having a moment so I’m gonna stop eavesdropping.”

“Hey!” Steve scoffed, “You little shit.”

Axl chuckled and scruffed Steve’s hair, “Thanks dad, I love you too. You’re my best friend.”

Steve absolutely blossomed at that, he’d never been so happy to hear those words. He used to hear them all the time, when Axl was really little. But then he became a preteen and being friends with your dad suddenly stopped being cool. He’s ecstatic right now.

“Thanks Eddie.” Axl smiled at him, giving Eddie a fist bump as he passed, “Can we like… talk sometime? I just wanna-“

“Know if someone’s gone through all the crazy shit as you?” Eddie offered and Eddie nodded, “How about we get some lunch this weekend, huh? Then hang out at the music store?”

“Sounds good.” Axl grinned and continued to walk past, “I’ll let you guys get back to your moment.”

“Moment?” Steve asked, red in the face, watching Axl walk down the hallway to his room, “There’s no moment, what moment?!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Axl shouted back and walked into his room.

“Axl!” Steve shouted out.

“Axl!” Eddie shouted too, “What fucking moment do you mean?”

Axl poked his head back out the door, “You were having a nice moment about friendship and being a good dad and blah blah blah!” Axl shouted and Steve and Eddie both relaxed, “I just shouldn’t be evesdropping of course.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded and looked back to Eddie, watched the sparkle in his eyes dance as he shifted to look back at Steve. And he melted at the sight.

“Also, this would be a great time to do something about that crush you’ve had on Eddie for years, dad!”

And with that, Axl’s door was slammed shut.

Steve and Eddie were staring at eachother. Eddie was slowly turning more and more red.

“You have a crush on me?”

Steve’s lack of an answer probably was a dead giveaway, but he hoped Eddie was oblivious.

“Oh.” Eddie muttered, and clearly he’s not oblivious, “You have a crush on me- god, I sound fifteen. Wow, you are into me- Steve- you- okay.” Eddie cleared his throat and fixed his posture, “Do- wow, huh, uh… do- do you wanna- do you wanna go out with me? Okay, there, I did it.”

“You’re asking me out?” Steve asked, a little gobsmacked.

“Yeah.” Eddie bit at his nails as he looked at Steve nervously.

“Yes.” Steve swallowed, “Yeah, I- yeah… can- does tomorrow work? Seven?”

“Seven.” Eddie smiled, his shoulders relaxing, “Yeah, a date at seven.”

“Okay.” Steve smiled too, “Wait, is this just… I just need to know if this is a date or like, with the intention of something more serious.”

“Uh…” Eddie swallowed, “Considering I’ve been into you for years now, I’d prefer something a little more permanent. But-“

“You don’t care I’ve got a kid?”

“No, I-“ Eddie ducked his head, blushing, “To be honest I’ve kinda always been jealous he wasn’t our kid.”

“Holy shit.” Steve muttered, “I thought you didn’t want kids?!”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugged, “I don’t know, you make all my wires cross, Steve. I’ve pictured a whole ass future with you.”

And Steve can’t wait to make that future come true.

And Axl grows up with a second dad who helps him through his transition too, has a little more intel. And Steve loves watching them as they chat about their shared experiences being trans, and cries when Axl comes out and shows off his excessive leg hair one afternoon, and when Eddie starts compulsively making fun of his voice cracks at age seventeen, and when Eddie’s sitting there and talking him through the procedure he’ll endure for his first surgery and- Steve’s just overwhelmed with love for them both.

And then he and Eddie adopt a little girl and Steve’s just so in awe of how Eddie is with the baby, and how Axl instantly takes to the protective big brother role. And just picture it, okay!? Just picture Steve and Eddie having a family together, okay?!

#Steve has a trans kid #trans Eddie #single dad steve #this is pretty shitty but I’m tired as fuck so I don’t care you know? I just wanted to share the idea because it needs to be shared! #headcannon that turned into a mini fic that I want to turn into a multichap #but I have so many wips already #jay writes #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #dad Steve #Steddie #single dad Steddie #stranger things 4 #fluff #hurt comfort

[britany1997]

Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Four

Were you wondering what the boys were doing while reader and Maria were bonding at the video store those two weeks? Wonder no more! Here’s what they were up to lol

I strongly recommend going back to at least read chapter 3 before reading this one, as some of the scenes will be the same, but from Paul’s perspective:)

Poly Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

FYFNO Masterlist

California, 1986

Paul’s eyes widened as he realized who you were to him. You wished you could have stopped the word that fell from his lips.

“Mine.”

Paul stared at you, his eyes raking up and down, taking you in. God you were beautiful, the others would love you. As his shock wore off, Paul felt a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest.

He had a million questions to ask you. Your favorite food, your favorite color, your favorite band. Paul had to know anything and everything. (Even if you liked Tiffany or something, he could get over it…eventually.)

As your lips parted, Paul prepared himself to be enchanted by whatever honeyed words you’d speak to him. He reached forward to caress your cheek.

Instead of leaning into the touch as he’d expected you to, you recoiled. His brow furrowed.

“Oh my god I totally forgot I have to go stock things in the back, so nice to meet you, bye!” He heard you blurt out before you moved away from him.

There were few times in Paul’s life when he was actually rendered speechless. This was one of them.

Paul’s brow furrowed, “what?” He whispered as he moved to stand in front of the desk’s swinging door you’d been headed for. Surely he’d misunderstood (wouldn’t be the first time), you had to at least talk this out.

He watched your face twist into a glare, “you’re in my way…” you bit out at him.

Paul’s confusion turned to frustration. “What?!” He repeated, “but we’re…I mean we-” he stumbled over his words, desperate and utterly flabbergasted.

“I know what we are,” you told him, “and I don’t care. So can you please move aside so I can do my job?”

Paul’s jaw dropped.

You…didn’t want him? Didn’t want a mate? Someone who’d love you unconditionally for eternity? Who’d do anything for you? God what was wrong with you?

He stumbled a bit as you pushed past him. “Hey!” He called after you, his ego more bruised than it’d ever been.

“This isn’t over you know,” he promised, resolved to win your heart, even if he had to recruit some…reinforcements.

You scoffed, oblivious to Paul’s plotting. “Seems like it is,” you replied before slipping into the back of the video store.

“What the fuck just happened,” Paul murmured to himself as he rubbed his forehead.

Maria whistled “tough break Paulie.” She bumped him with her hip before she went back to returning DVDs.

Paul scoffed. She didn’t know the half of it. “I gotta go Maria,” he muttered, stalking off with his tail between his legs.

She snickered softly as she watched him go.

Paul shook his head, he was gonna be in for one long conversation when he got back to the cave.

Paul slunk across the boardwalk, hands in his pockets, as he made his way back to his bike.

His head nodded along to the beat of the music playing over the speakers. Paul started to tap out a four count on his thigh as he walked and hummed.

“Are you going to that bonfire Friday?” “I dunno, is Jason gonna be there?” “Ugh, probably” Paul huffed a laugh as he eavesdropped on the vapid boardwalk talk.

A bonfire on Friday did sound fun though. Should he and the guys throw a party? Who would they even invite? Maria? Maria, who worked at the video store with his new mate. He sighed. What a mess.

As he walked, his mind wandered to her pretty face. He wished she would have let him touch her. She looked so soft. He just wanted to hold her. He could be gentle!

He huffed.

Didn’t she realize he was hers? Didn’t she know he’d do anything for her? He’d be anything she needed? He’d probably even cut his hair for her if she asked. As long as she let him hold a memorial service after.

She was pretty, and soft (probably), witty and fiery, and she was right there at the video shop and she didn’t even want him. How fucked was that.

Paul frowned as he finally reached his bike, looking back over his shoulder in the shop’s direction. It’d been a while since he’d felt that hollow longing feeling of being alone.

But he wasn’t alone, not anymore. And whatever had happened back there, he and his boys were gonna fix it, he knew they would.

Paul revved his engine with renewed determination. ‘Just wait pretty girl,’ he thought, ‘cause we’re comin back for ya’

When Paul arrived at the cave, each of the boys were too immersed in their own activities to notice.

On the couch, Dwayne was two-hundred and twelve pages into his thirty-first reread of Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov and from the way Dwayne was hunched over the book, quite literally on the edge of his seat with his brow furrowed, Paul could tell it was just starting to get good.

Though Paul could barely think over the harsh whirring sound of Marko’s sewing machine. He’d been occupied with making patch-work vests and skirts lately to expand his wardrobe. And while Paul appreciated having some extra pieces around he could borrow, after weeks of hyper fixated, non-stop sewing, the sound was worse than nails on a chalkboard.

David’s constant foot tapping didn’t help either. He was perched in his wheelchair throne, seemingly reviewing some ancient documents. By the way he was squinting and underlying, it seemed to be pretty important stuff.

But none of this was as important as what Paul had to tell them. He cleared his throat pointedly.

The whirring of the sewing machine slowed before coming to a stop, Dwayne looked up from his book expectantly, and a little annoyed, David continued his work, ignoring Paul entirely. “I’m calling a meeting,” Paul stated confidently.

“You don’t have the authority to call a meeting,” David said without looking up from his papers, “only Dwayne and I do.”

Paul wondered if he could explode David with his mind if he tried hard enough. How would he know if he never tried?

“Well it’s an emergency,” Paul gritted.

David met Paul’s frustration with a mocking pout. “Dealer’s out of the good stuff again Paulie? Tragic.” He turned back to his papers.

Dwayne seemed to sense Paul’s desperation, “what’s wrong Paul?” he asked.

“I have another mate,” he said hesitantly, “which means that you guys probably do to.”

David stilled at the same time Marko gasped, the curly haired vampires lips curling up into a bright smile.

“What are they like? Are they nice? Are they funny? Are they hot?” The shorter vamp bombarded Paul with questions, making him cringe.

Dwayne frowned, “Paul…” he began gently, “why aren’t they here with you?”

A broken look crossed Paul’s face, “she…doesn’t want me.”

Marko’s excitement was extinguished as he came to Paul’s side, lacing their fingers together. Dwayne softened, quietly reflecting on Paul’s words. David frowned.

“What do you mean she doesn’t want you?” he narrowed his eyes.

“Exactly what I said dude,” Paul strained, “she said she didn’t care!”

David leaned back, unconvinced. “Tell us exactly what happened, start to finish.”

Paul nodded and painfully recounted every moment from the excitement of meeting you, to the pain of watching you leave as he picked up his jaw from the floor.

David stroked his chin, “are you sure she’s a vampire? Human mates are rare, but they’re not unheard of,” he mused.

Paul scoffed, “duh she’s a vampire! She said, ‘I know what we are, and I don’t care.’ How would she know we were mates if she wasn’t a vampire?” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“Did she say, ‘I know what we are,’ or did she say, ‘I know what you are,’” Dwayne chimed in.

Paul scratched his head, what did she say? He’d been talking about what they were, but had she? He couldn’t quite remember. “She could have been saying ‘I know what you are,’” he decided.

David’s hands clapped together, “so she’s human, but she knows we’re vampires, or at least that you are Paul. Unsurprising, you and Marko have the combined subtlety of an airhorn at the opera,” Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s an easy enough fix,” David reasoned.

“Makes more sense too,” Marko added. “If she ran off, it was probably because she was scared. If I was a human I wouldn’t wanna fuck around with us to get bit either.”

“Why don’t we give her some time,” Dwayne suggested, “prove we’re not going to rush into the video store and drag her out to hurt her or anything. We could give her some space to calm down from her confrontation with Paul, and then we can all go meet her together.”

The boys nodded slowly, considering Dwayne’s plan.

“And,” Dwayne added, “if she’s human, we all need to be on our absolutely best behavior,” he shot a pointed glance at David.

David rolled his eyes, “I’d teach her to be on her best behavior,” he mumbled.

Dwayne sighed. “Let’s just give it two weeks, then we’ll go check in on her,” he paused his voice taking on a gentle tone once more, “I think we could all take some time to cool off.”

Paul tensed at that last part, but he knew Dwayne was right. You were a human and you didn’t understand. You couldn’t! They’d have to show you, go slow, ease you into things, be gentle…you were basically made of glass after all.

He sighed, ‘two weeks,’ he thought, ‘I can do two weeks.’

He could not do two weeks.

Not gracefully at least.

By the end of those two weeks, Paul was practically feral. The second the Sun began to fade into the horizon, Paul was awake and attempting to drag David out of the cave.

As eager to meet you as they were, the boys had grown tired of Paul’s impatience.

Dwayne’s evenings consistently began and ended with “has it been two weeks yet?” The dark haired vampire had come so close to just buying Paul a damn calendar.

Marko had had to stick to Paul like glue to stop him from wandering off to the video store every night. On two unfortunate occasions, Marko AND David had to drag him back to the cave to stop him was barging in to talk to you. Paul was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and he wanted you bad.

But Dwayne has assured him last night that today was the day, and Paul was chomping at the bit. “Let’s go,” he groaned, annoyed and excited.

“Paul.” Dwayne chastised.

“Dwayne.” Paul mocked.

“Paul,” it was too early for this shit. “I know you want to see her, we all do,” Dwayne reminded him. “But I think we should wait until closing.”

“What?!” Paul huffed, “I’ve been waiting two weeks! Now we gotta wait longer? No way man!”

“Paul listen,” David groaned, “we can’t have a long, intensive conversation with her about vampire mates with random human customers running around, get it? It’s a private conversation.”

Marko nodded in agreement, “it’s doesn’t seem fair to drop all of that on her while she’s still at work either,” he added, “it’s better if we get ‘er as she’s leaving.”

Paul rolled his eyes, “whatever, I bet Fishy’s on my side.” He grumbled as he stalked off to his room.

“You think we should invest in one of those backpack leashes for him?” Marko asked, only half joking.

David scoffed a laugh, “don’t tempt me.”

When closing time finally came, Paul’s eagerness had wavered. What if they explained everything and you still weren’t on board? Humans had tons of reasons to fear vampires after all, you might want nothing to do with them.

He shuddered at the thought.

He looked to his left to see Marko biting his thumb, equally nervous.

“A human mate,” he muttered under his breath, “what are the odds.”

David rolled his eyes, “if she’s a human I can use my thrall, why are you idiots so worried.”

Paul and Marko shot him dirty looks, but Dwayne placed a hand on his shoulder. As tough as David liked to pretend to be sometimes, Dwayne knew he was nervous too.

“No use waiting any longer,” the dark haired vampire reasoned, “c’mon.”

Dwayne lead the way, pushing the door to the video store open and letting the bell ring softly as the other boys filed in behind him.

The vampires maneuvered to the desk together, passing through aisles they’d walked through a million times over.

The silence was deafening as the boys’ thoughts whirled with what they’d say to you. How they’d explain the significance of vampire mates to a mere human.

Dwayne sighed, they probably had nothing to worry about. Even as a human, there’d still be a pull for you. And he could work with a pull, no matter how small.

He’d show you, he decided. Show you how amazing it could be to be cared for, to be protected. He’d treat you like a princess, he’d worship you if you let him.

God you must be his if he was already thinking this way. The tug at his heart grew stronger and strongernwith every step. If you only knew the effect you had on him, on them all. If you only knew you could have him wrapped around your finger.

When the boys finally reached the front desk, Dwayne’s musings were shattered by the vision of your tongue down Maria’s throat.

He watched as David’s jaw dropped when he was met with the sight of one of your hands tangled in Maria’s curly locks, the other caressing her hip.

He’d felt it, and by the looks of it, David and Marko had too. You were theirs, but you were tangled in Maria’s embrace.

The boys were too stunned to speak.

Until Paul abruptly broke the silence with a resounding “what the fuck.”

FYFNO Taglist❤️:

(Let me know if you’d like to be added to my list for this fic, or to my main list)

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @crustyboypix @anna1306 @arenpath @arbesa-mind @bookworm551 @chiefdirector @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @sad-ghost-of-garbage @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @solobagginses @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @lostboys1987girl @f4iryfxies @bloodywickedvamp @softchonk @walmart-cereal @warrior-616 @katerinaval @memphiscity69 @rynsfandomsfun @fraudfrog @ghostedghostie @welcome-to-the-hole @people-are-strange-87 @blenna3967 @drascilla @jezabella8 @gothamslostboy @charlottieellis @ilikechocolatemilkh @simplyreading96 @mad-is-sad @justaspeachy @pookiesnatcher @jamie-poopoo @buzzybee-26 @cocopuffs1450 @sarcastic-sourwolf @kristel1990 @the-lonely-abyss @mihawksdemoness

#the lost boys #paul lost boys #the lost boys fic #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #marko lost boys #lost boys #lost boys fic #lost boys 1987 #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #tlb paul #tlb dwayne #tlb david #marko tlb #mates #vampire mates #vampire reader #fem vampire reader #poly lost boys #poly lost boys x fem reader #fated mates #vampires #vampire fic #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #Maria lost boys

[themisimagines]

labyrinth

content: you and vyn attend a birthday party hosted in his honour but end up doing something rather more fun in a garden labyrinth. wink wink nudge nudge. again inspired by anna karenina (2012) film but also labyrinth (1986). maybe a companion to 'i could sleep inside the cold of you'. some spoilers for episode 10. total porn without plot. characters: vyn x fem!reader warnings: public sex, hunter-prey relationship, breeding kink, minor knife play

On your second last day in Svart, Vyn's father hosts a birthday party for Vyn – all to keep up appearances, of course. His father isn't present, and Vyn dislikes half, if not most of the people there. You've made your way through most of the evening by his side, and finally things have begun to wind down, the guests suitably drunk and starting to do unspeakable things, sure to forget everything by tomorrow. Vyn has told you to keep close – he doesn't trust half the people here, and your kidnap by his uncle is still fresh in the forefront of his mind.

Then the next moment, you find yourself wandering the grounds of a large garden maze, heart beating out of your chest as you run as fast as you can, trying to get to the heart of the labyrinth before you get caught. Every single twitch of the leaves and hedges beside you makes you jump. You've dropped pieces of clothing slowly to make a trail, so you don't get lost. Thank goodness they dressed you like an iced cake – layers upon layers of silk, lace, underskirt, petticoats, gloves, ornaments, brocade, outer layers, inner layers, not to mention the hoops used to prop up the voluminous skirts.

Just as you shed one of your outer layers, exposing your bare skin to the chill night air, a low whistle sounds behind you. Without looking, you decide to run, going further and further into the maze, not caring if you get lost now. But just as you see you've hit a dead end, you turn around, but Vyn is there, blocking the entrance.

Vyn stands in front of you, slowly approaching and twirling a decorative blade between his fingers. Even though you know he would never hurt you, there is a tantalising whisper of fear running up your spine, which is deliciously arousing.

'I found you,' he sing songs softly. In the moonlight, his eyes glint as he gets closer, the most delicious shade of honey gold. You love seeing him like this, like a cat who has gotten the cream, a mischievous boy reliving the childhood he never really got to have.

You consider making a dash for it, but he closes the distance and grips your wrists over your head tightly, breath skimming against your ear and neck as he whispers, 'Don't even try... I've hunted down my prey and I intend on enjoying every single moment...'

He turns you around and secures your wrists to a branch with his abandoned bowtie, manoeuvring expertly around your hooped skirts to run his hands up your bodice and corset, slicing open the corset ribbons and stripping your layers back. Standing there, unable to move, you feel especially vulnerable, feeling the cool metal of the blade just barely grazing your skin. Under his careful unwrapping, you are soon completely naked, bared to the moonlight.

'What a marvellous birthday present,' he whispers against your skin, pressing soft kisses throughout your back. 'Thank you.'

You can hear other people have entered the maze, laughing drunkenly from some distance away. Vyn sees you notice them, and chuckles in a low voice. 'You didn't manage to find the heart of the maze so you're all mine. If I choose to let anyone else watch me fuck you, then you can't do anything about it.'

'Pretty words,' you retort, squirming at the feeling of his gloved hands running over your body, squeezing at your tits, ghosting over your thighs, flicking at your clit. 'I bet if anyone actually dared to come over, you would have their head cut off or something.'

He growls at the thought and bites down hard on your neck, definitely leaving a bruise there. 'You're not wrong.'

Vyn pulls away and you whine at the lack of contact, turning around to see what he's up to, but without any warning, he lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance and thrusts up into you, making you cry out in surprise.

The pace he's taking is breathless, cock sliding out fully before slamming into you, setting a desperate pace like he's trying to punish you, forcing small cries from your throat. You are pressed up tightly against the hedge, pain mingling with pleasure, twigs and branches scratching at your delicate skin, feeling like a thousand hands clawing at you, which somehow is a huge turn on.

'That's it,' Vyn purrs. 'Make those beautiful noises for me, darling. I want everyone to hear you.'

You try to bite your tongue just to defy him, but then he grabs your breasts in each hand, forcing you against him and bending your back impossibly as he fucks you fast and hard. Your nipples are in his clever fingers, and he is playing with them in the way that makes you want to scream, because it feels too good, and you are terribly overstimulated from everything. You squirm relentlessly on his cock and you hear him pant shallowly, quietly whispering about how wonderful you are over and over again under his breath, hips thrusting into you endlessly.

You're not content with letting him have his way completely, so you turn your head around to look at his face, which is dark with desire, completely focused on every single sensation as if he's a beast and you're his prey.

'Is that all you've got?' You challenge him.

Upon hearing that, he growls and stops to untie your hands, looking to punish you even further, but the moment you are free you tackle him onto the ground, knocking all the air out of his lungs and mounting him. His face is surprised, but he doesn't resist, and this time it's your turn to pin his arms above his head with his own bowtie as he watches you hungrily, not resisting although you know he could easily break free of your sloppy knots, wanting to see what you do next. It's a strange sight – you are completely nude, having been stripped so thoroughly by Vyn earlier, but he is almost fully clothed. It almost makes you feel like a wild woman who has hunted down her prey and is ready to enjoy the spoils.

You slide down onto his cock, relishing the feeling of fucking outdoors – being fucked from behind always feels so animalistic, but being on top tonight drives you wild, and you lift yourself off his cock and plunge back down, watching Vyn bite his lip and watch you move up and down, your breasts bouncing with every thrust, your thighs burning with exertion. 'Nghh-' you moan, feeling him hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. 'I love watching you like this,' you tease him breathlessly. 'Helpless beneath me, completely at my mercy...' You grind your hips in a circular motion, drawing your lovemaking out.

There are more voices approaching, they seem to be getting closer, but you're quite sure that they aren't about to find you anytime soon. Cries of pleasure ring out from other corners of the maze, other lovers having found secret spots to release their desires. You see Vyn's eyes glint as you tease him, a smile on the corner of his lips, rising to the challenge. He shifts his feet upwards, thighs grazing your buttocks, and you are just about to ask him what kind of tricks he's trying when his hips thrust upwards, sending you bouncing upwards, and seeing stars from how deeply his cock is buried inside you.

'I can hardly let my prey get away with everything,' Vyn bites down, cock ramming into you, leaving you breathless and begging him to slow down.

'Ah - Vyn - Ah - ah - mmmh!' You cry out, as he drives faster and faster, not letting you gather yourself for a single moment, thrusting so hard that you lose your balance and are pressed against him, hands scrabbling for purchase in the soil as he just uses you mercilessly, chasing his own release while pushing you closer and closer off the edge. 'Ready to scream for our audience?' He chuckles in a low voice. A pair of voices comes so close that you swear they are about to turn the corner, and the thought of getting caught is so deliciously tantalising that Vyn just has to thrust a few more times before you come undone around his cock, trying to stifle your cries in his neck, clenching and throbbing so hard that you see flashes at the side of your vision.

Vyn speeds up for his last few thrusts, and he whispers how good you are, how amazing your cunt feels around his cock, about how much he loves you, and surely you have another one in there for him, he wants to feel you come again. He has freed his own hands and one now snakes down to your clit, the other tearing your hand away from your mouth - 'Don't you dare hold back, I want everyone to hear that you're mine.' He rubs your clit as his cock grows and throbs inside your cunt and that pushes you over the edge again, crying out in earnest this time - 'Fuck yes, Vyn - oh!' and Vyn cums with a guttural groan, growling deeply and squeezing his eyes in pleasure.

The voices trail off, giggling to themselves. There is no way that they didn't hear their lovemaking, but also the hedges are so thick that they couldn't possibly have seen who it was. You collapse onto Vyn, and he embraces you in his arms, both of you panting heavily. He gives you his jacket, and drags over the remains of your dress to keep you warm. 'It would be a shame if you caught a cold,' he says. 'I would feel rather responsible.' You giggle against his chest, buried in layers of silk and tulle. You both look up at the sky, watching the stars and feeling so lucky to be in love.

#tears of themis #tears of themis smut #vyn richter #vyn richter smut #vyn x reader #vyn richter x reader #vyn tears of themis #tot imagines #tot smut #happy birthday my damaged baby boy

[weird-an]

tw: mentioned suicide attempts, but Billy can't die, depression, drugs

Billy isn't sure he's alive, but he knows he can't fucking die.

The doctors call it a miracle, he thinks it's a curse. The wounds healed, turning into thin scars, starting to fade after a few days. All the pain becoming only a faint ache. Starcourt is a memory, a bad dream, a fucking joke.

It can't be right. He feels like he's dying, when he's back at Cherry Lane, when he's at home, but far away from California.

His skin feels all wrong, too tight, too cold.

Neil says he's glad Billy survived the "fire at the mall", but he isn't happy about the hospital bills. He's disappointed that all of this happened, but Billy still isn't a man, knows nothing of respect and responsibility. Beating are lessons, but not lasting anymore, the bruises are gone after an hour.

Neil notices. Calls him a freak, a monster - like he has ever seen a real monster, like he knows what it feels like to have one inside his head, like he doesn't see one in the mirror every day.

It's the last day of 1985. Billy can't fucking die.

He tried to using the gun Neil shouldn't have, he tried to using too many pills, he tried to let the Camaro's engine running until he couldn't breathe - but he always wakes up. Sometimes hungover, sometimes hurting, always not dead.

He sits on the Camaro's hood at the quarry, after snorting a line of coke and drinking a bottle of vodka. His heart races, but he still doesn't feel shit.

"Jesus, Billy." Harrington's voice is soft, almost worried. It makes Billy turn around, before he can help himself.

Harrington's got a freaking suit on, tie loosened, hair tousled. He looks as tired as the world is. As Billy is.

"That's one hell of a New Year's party," Harrington says.

"Fuck off." Billy looks away, before he can get lost Harrington's stupid big brown eyes.

"Still better than the Harrington's annual New Year's function." Harrington sits next to him on the car, his knee bumping against Billy's.

"Why are you here?" Billy huffs, staring into the dead of the night. He wants to tell him to piss off, too, but he can't. His pulse is thundering in his ears and he's pretty sure it's got nothing to do with the coke.

"I don't know," Harrington admits. "Maybe I'm... alone."

Billy gets that. He's been alone ever since she walked out of the door.

Harrington laughs and it's a bitter parody of what it should sound like. "I don't know, it's stupid."

"It's not." Billy makes the mistake to turn towards him. Steve is so close. Steve is so warm. "Not at all."

He feels like Steve just offered him a piece of himself and he should give something back, but all he's got to offer is worthless.

"You should stay away," he says, heart in his throat. "I'm a monster."

Steve shakes his head. A curl tickles Billy's skin.

"I've seen monsters and you're not one of them," Steve whispers. His breath is ghosting over Billy's mouth.

Billy shakes, letting go of the breath he didn't know he held. He leans forward, presses his lips against Steve's.

There are fireworks illuminating the sky, pink, gold and blue chasing the darkness away.

Steve kisses back. Billy's lips tingle.

It's the first day of 1986.

Billy is alive. For the first time in months, maybe years.

#immortal billy hargrove #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #superhero au basically #steve x billy #tw sucidal ideation #tw mentioned suicide attempts #tw drugs

[prokopetz]

I have a pinned post for my games in development, but it doesn't really describe what they're about, and apparently this is something we're doing today, so:

My games in development, in rough order of priority:

(Note: all of these have public playtest drafts behind the links.)

Eat God

A game about weird little anarchist muppets with reality-warping powers themed after classic Looney Tunes gags wandering around a classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy setting stirring up trouble. Roughly 50% character creation rules by volume, with provisions for randomising every part of it; the linked draft, above, includes an online character generator if you want to play with it. The mechanics are a sort of elaborated spiritual successor to Costume Fairy Adventures, a game whose development I headed up about a decade ago.

Current status: actively writing, hopefully zeroing in on a feature-complete playtest draft within the next month or two.

Tiny Frog Wizards

One of my customarily literal titles, this is a game where you play as wizards who are tiny frogs. Features elaborate semi-freeform rules for casting spells, lots of big stupid random tables for when spells go off the rails, and absolutely no mechanics for anything that isn't casting a spell; it's a very focused sort of game. Narratively, it's a game about being an overpowered little twerp sticking your nose into other people's problems and offering solutions no-one asked for. Portions of the rules crib shamelessly from @jennamoran's Nobilis 3rd Edition, for which I offer acknowledgement but no apologies.

Current status: development of the text has been set aside for the moment to work on visual identity, with an eye toward crowdfunding an expanded hardcover edition later in the year.

Space Gerbils

A tactical mecha combat game with a very silly twist: the entirety of the tactical positioning occurs inside the mecha, because the game's premise is basically "what if instead of the Big Reveal at the end of Metroid (1986) being that Samus Aran is secretly a girl, Samus Aran was secretly 3–5 small gerbil-like creatures operating a person-size mech suit?" Players engage in positional jockeying and resource management to determine which stations they're crewing within the suit, which is boiled down to a single roll of the dice to determine what happens outside the suit. Includes papercraft minifigs.

Current status: essentially feature-complete, apart from some character creation options and a planned random mission generator; this will likely be the next game I crowdfund after Tiny Frog Wizards.

Indie RPG Prompt Generator [working title]

Essentially a joke that got out of hand, this is a big set of random tables of common indie RPG tropes that you can roll on to generate a description of a hypothetical game, complete with specific rules toys and setting beats. I probably could have finished this up already, but I decided to include examples of each rolled element, which turned into this big hairy research project I'm not able to give adequate attention to right now. If you've got a game of your own that you think would be a good fit for a presently unfilled example slot, please, let me know!

Current status: plugging away at it in bits and pieces as I'm able.

Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat

This is an anthology consisting of three minigames: the eponymous Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat, which is self-explanatory; Unfamiliar, in which you play as uncooperative wizards' familiars; and System Crash, in which you play as malfunctioning robots. More a series of formal experiments in character creation and group composition than proper full-featured games, all share the same core mechanics, with milieu-specific addons of varying practicality; for example, System Crash has specific rules for which senses each player is allowed to use when asking the GM for information, because it's completely possible to have a group in which only one of the robots can see. Large portions of Unfamiliar were later re-used in Eat God, above.

Current status: I have a list of notes as long as your arm on planned changes to integrate into the text, and I'm confident I'll get around to doing so one of these years.

Gone to Hell

Literally a Doom (2016) pastiche as a Belonging Outside Belonging game, which is just as silly an idea as it sounds; grown out of an earlier 24-hour RPG called Doomguy. The central conceit is that there's only a single player character, with players taking turns assuming the role of the Slayer, while everyone else takes ownership of the various hostile factions comprising the game's conspiratorial twelve-car pileup of a plot. Lots of pontificating about the implicit power structures of tabletop RPG groups. This one probably needs a full rewrite in order to lend a bit more formal structure to the "one player character, many GMs" conceit than out-of-the-box BOB offers.

Current status: I have not looked at this game in three years, which is actually a really long time for me.

Rotate Bird

Another of my "is this a formal experiment or a real game" titles, this one revolves around constructing characters out of abstract symbols, which are interpreted during play to retroactively define what your character is actually capable of doing. Even the title seen above is an interpretive approximation; strictly speaking, the game is called 🔄🐦. Possibly the most shitposty game I've ever written, which is saying something, but based on playtest feedback it seems functional.

Current status: the only reason this is listed as lower in priority than Gone to Hell is because I genuinely don't know what to do with it. It's probably publishable, with some cleanup editing and graphic design, but it feels like there's something missing. I'm open to suggestions!

Get in the Fucking Robot

A pamphlet-size, competitive, GMless title that's at least as much a board game as it is a tabletop RPG, this one is about a bunch of dysfunctional candidate mecha pilots competing to be the first to pilot the titular giant robot. The game is played under misère conditions: while each character's IC goal is to pilot the robot, each player's OOC goal is to avoid that fate, with the player whose character actually Gets in the Fucking Robot being accounted the loser.

Current status: playtesting suggests the current framework of play doesn't actually work – like, at all – so this one needs to go all the way back to the drawing board; I don't feel like doing that any time soon, which puts it squarely at the bottom of the list.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rps #game design #wips #swearing

[shares-a-vest]

@flufftober Spring Edition Day 7: Giving someone a present

wc: 886 | Rated: T for Canon-Typical swearing, some suggestive language | cw: None

Tags: Pre-Birthday, Eddie Munson is a Menace, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Cuddling, Spoiling Presents, Wayne Munson Takes a Pottery Class (it's only a throwaway line, but it's a headcanon I have rotting my brain rn)

Note: I just want to shout out the lovely comment @withacapitalp left on my ficlet from yesterday. It definitely influenced today's fic, as Steve reflects on the life he has in this AU. Thank youuu so much Liam for recognising an underlying theme/nuance in this universe.

‘The Best Present of All’

“What’s got you all giddy?” Steve asks, watching Eddie practically strut across their bedroom as he heads for his side of the bed.

He looks ridiculous – like a headbanging, scruffy chicken. Eddie pauses by the side of the bed and rips off his loose, cut-off Black Sabbath shirt. He hurls it halfway across the room, the discarded almost-terrycloth fluttering to the floor as he jumps on the bed and lounges across Steve’s legs.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow, precious,” he coos, rolling awkwardly on his back and grimacing.

He brushes it off as if Steve doesn’t know the telltale signs of his partner twinging his back – never one to exactly take it easy after almost dying in the Spring of 1986. Eddie puffs out a breath to blow hair from his face and giggles.

“I bought you the best present,” he continues, looking at the ceiling.

“That so?” Steve teases, knowing all too well that whatever said material item is, it will be nothing compared to the mischief Eddie surely has cooked up.

And Steve is going to love every minute of it. He loves every birthday he gets to have with Eddie by his side – and that’s something that can’t be bought.

Eddie turns his head and grins.

“I’m going to gift-give so hard,” he quips, scrunching his nose and clenching his jaw.

Steve supposes it is meant to come off, well... seductive, or something – but Eddie simply looks like an utter lovesick dork with those glee-filled eyes peeking out from under his unruly bangs.

“Did you help Joanie with something, at least?” Steve chuckles.

“Of course,” Eddie says, tenting his fingers together, “Prepare for a macaroni-encrusted card and the wobbliest, most unusable coffee mug in human existence.”

“Wow,” he laughs and swipes at his partner with his pillow. Eddie splutters away, spitting like a cranky kitten as Steve chides, “You cannot keep a secret.”

“I blame Wayne for the mug idea.”

“Stop making fun.”

He tugs on Eddie’s bare arm – if he has the man shirtless in bed, he at least wants to cuddle (and stop his legs from being crushed). Eddie goes limp, forcing Steve to all but pull his dead weight upright and into his arms, mussing and twisting their oft-abused bedding into a crumple – the blue patterned lines now a wavy swish.

“But the old man is taking a goddamn pottery class like he’s Demi fucking Moore,” Eddie cackles into his chest.

Steve shushes him and presses a kiss to the top of his head just to be safe. He holds Eddie close, breathing in the smell of fruity shampoo. Feeling the warmth of his skin against his own – the touch of flesh under his fingers.

He shifts on the spot and bites his lip.

“Eds?”

“Mmmhmm?” Eddie hums and Steve can feel his mischievous smirk.

“Since you’re spoiling presents…” he wonders aloud, removing his hand from his partner’s shoulder so he can attempt to flick back the blankets, “What if I got one of my presents now?”

Eddie untangles himself and bolts upright, scrambling with the bedding instead.

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

They make quick work of slipping under the covers, righting their bedding as much as possible – even if it all somehow ends up on a forty-five-degree angle in their haste. But once they get settled, all cozy and warm and impossibly close as they roll into each other’s embrace on instinct, Steve feels his heart skip a beat.

“Eddie…” he whispers, letting his partner’s name linger on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie whispers back, his big brown eyes glistening from the reflection of the light on the nightstand.

Steve shuffles closer, closing the already tiny gap between them and loops his arms around Eddie’s middle. He simply holds his partner for a moment, looking into those beautiful eyes – watching as Eddie breathes in and out and blinks. He leans in and presses a kiss to his lips, clinging to Eddie tight as he begins to kiss back. It deepens almost instantly and Steve hums, stifling a gasp as tears begin to prickle up.

Over the years, he has turned into a total sap, the waterworks turning on so easily sometimes that it worries him.

But he just feels so much – so much love – with his family. With their silly cats, first in Chicago in their tiny apartment, then in their slightly bigger but nonetheless cramped apartment and now in their home. A four-bedroom house with plenty of room to live and build. A house with a yard, a garden and a garage big enough for Eddie to jam with Freak on weekends.

The best gift life could have given him.

He used to be scared that he’d be stuck in Hawkins forever, working for his father and trying to please his mother all the while failing and remaining lonely.

But all that changed with Eddie. Even if it first started during that awful Spring Break back when he thought they might not even survive long enough to see where things could go.

“I love you,” he whispers when they break apart and come up for air, “Love you and Joanie so much.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” Eddie says, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “Happy birthday.”

#fluffspring2024 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie as girl-dads

[morningberriesao3]

MWMD - Be My Love

Steve Harrington X Virgin!Eddie Munson

Summary: It's NYE, and the cat comes hurtling out of the bag. Eddie and Steve finally do something about their feelings.

Word Count: 6.8K

Chapter: 6 of 6 CHAPTER LIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Content Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual content including… Virgin Eddie Munson, Dry Humping, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Minor Crossdressing (ahem, EDDIE WEARS A G-STRING), Oh no they’re both tops?! what will they do!!?!, Top Steve Harrington, Power Bottom Eddie Munson, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Nipple Clamps, Under-Negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, Creampie. Underage Drinking and Recreational Drug Use

Tags: Eddie Munson lives, 5 + 1 Things, slow burn, POV Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Caretaking, Massages, Sharing a Bed, House Party, Play Flighting, Bros Being Bros (JK it’s very homoerotic), Halloween, Boys in Makeup, Independence Day, New Years Eve, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending

A/N: thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged over the last few days! this story is so much fun and it was a blast to write. if you were to choose between an angsty rock star eddie fic next, or a fantasy vampire eddie fic next, which would it be? feel free to send in an anonymous ask if you have an opinion or input <3

Many Ways, Many Days, to Say ‘I Love You’

December 31st, 1986

“Holy shit,” Steve shouts beyond the blasting music in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor. Another holiday, another party. Eddie has attended more parties since meeting Steve than he’s ever even seen in his entire life. This one is at some graduated basketball player’s home, and Eddie has been clinging to Steve’s side for the majority of night so he doesn’t end up alone. It seems like a very unsafe place to find himself without his escort. Steve shakes his glass that’s filled with pink liquid in front of Eddie’s face. “This is so good. You should try one of these. It’s so good.”

Eddie sways to the beat of the (terrible) music. He’s tipsy enough that he’d stopped complaining about it half an hour ago, but not drunk enough that it wasn’t on the forefront of his mind. He pretends not to know exactly what song it is (You Make My Dreams Come True by Hall & Oates), even though he knows it word for word. It’s not his fault that the radio station sometimes plays shitty music. Over and over. Until he has to convince himself it is, indeed, shitty.

Eddie eyes the liquid in Steve’s glass. “What even is that?”

Steve squints an eye. “I think it’s strawberry – no, raspberry. And… peach?” He smiles that crooked smile at Eddie. “And a whole lot of liquor.”

The image that Eddie has cloaked himself in over the years tells him that he can’t sip on a fruity cocktail in a public place filled with his peers. But a little voice in his head tells him, You don’t care what other people think about you anyway. And if it’s good enough for the King of Hawkins High… So he looks at Steve and says, “Lead me to the refreshments, your majesty.”

Butterflies erupt in his stomach when Steve bends in half at the waist and holds an outstretched hand towards Eddie. “Right this way, milady.”

Now, here’s the thing.

Maybe being called a lady shouldn’t do something for Eddie. But what does everyone call him? The Freak. And when it comes down to it, there are parts of himself that are rather… freakish. Like the G-string that he pulled from the back of his drawer to wear tonight – a dirty little secret – for his own cheap thrill. Or the nipple clamps he hasn’t had the chance to try out yet.

Or being called a lady by Steve.

So he takes Steve’s hand, because it’s beckoning him to do so, and his stomach churns sideways, and he has to remind himself of his promise – the one he made to himself – that that thing that he and Steve did was a one-time thing. That, despite all reasoning in the entire world, Steve didn’t mean to get himself off with Eddie and didn’t mean to get Eddie off, too.

Does that make any sense at all? Probably not. But what makes even less sense would be the opposite theory. The one where Steve isn’t completely straight.

It’s a theory that Eddie won’t even let himself consider, because it would spark that pesky little flame of hope within him. Better it never gets lit in the first place, instead of lit and extinguished.

“Hey, Stace,” Steve says to the blonde girl in the kitchen, who has a shaker in her hand and a group of other cute ladies crowding her. Steve gives her a devastatingly beautiful smile and she rewards him with a bashful blush and a bat of her ridiculously long eyelashes. The jealousy that Eddie feels at the exchange is concerningly violent. “Can you make a couple more of these for me? They’re amazing.” Steve shakes the glass at her the same way that he did to Eddie a moment ago.

“Of course,” she chirps, biting on her lip in a way that Eddie can only assume is seductively. She lets her tongue poke out from her perfectly plump, pink lips to wet them. Eddie nearly scoffs aloud. “So, Steve. Are you here with anyone?”

Eddie looks down at his decorated hands to see if he’s gone invisible. He certainly feels like he has. But nope, he’s very much there, standing next to Steve.

Steve’s not as much of a prick as everyone else at the party, so he throws his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, unashamed. “Yeah – this is Eddie. I’m here with him.”

Stacy’s eyes trail sideways and look at Eddie for no longer than a couple of seconds. It’s long enough, however, for Eddie to read her distaste. “Oh. No, I know. I mean, are you here with anyone.”

Steve’s brows crumple above his Roman nose. “What? I’m here with Eddie.”

The group of girls twitter soft laughter. Stacy pours the contents of the shaker into two solo cups filled with ice. “You’re such a fool, Steve.”

She says it in a tone that’s probably supposed to be endearing, but Eddie can see how Steve bristles. “Alright. Well, thanks.” He picks up the two glasses, handing one to Eddie and turning his back to Stacy.

He pats Eddie on the back and points his chin towards a clearing in the centre of the room. They start to make their way away from the kitchen, but Stacy calls after him, “Only a few minutes until midnight! Come find me!”

Steve turns to face her once more – so does Eddie – and he doesn’t miss how she throws him a wink.

“Oh, um. Thank you. Maybe,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and hauling them away from her advances before she can say anything else. They find a quiet space in the living room, against the wall. Eddie leans his back against it while Steve takes a sip of his drink. “I hate it when they don’t take a hint.”

For a second, Eddie wonders if he doesn’t take the hint sometimes. Social cues and all that. That would, in fact, explain why lately he’s been living in a constant state of confusion.

But all he does is nod, and say, “Same.”

They stand there for a minute, sipping on their drinks, eyeballing the crowd as they laugh and dance. Then Steve cocks his head and takes a step towards Eddie. Suddenly, he’s very aware that there’s a solid wall behind him. That Steve is closer than he should be. That he’s pushing into his space when usually that’s just an Eddie thing.

Maybe he’s rubbing off on Steve.

He’d like to rub off on Steve. Again. If you catch his drift.

“So,” Steve says, looking down on Eddie, making him feel strangely small, “what’s the story with you and Gareth?”

Eddie furrows his brows, nearly choking on his cocktail. “Excuse me?”

“I never really asked before.” Steve shrugs. “And – I don’t know – you guys seem to hang out a lot.”

“Yeah. Uh. I’ve known him since like, grade three. He’s my best friend.”

Steve’s eyes drop from his for a moment. He chews on his lips. “Oh. Of course – I mean, That’s… great.” Eddie stares as Steve’s expression falls. And he has half a mind to say that he looks… jealous. But the confidence quickly returns to Steve’s gaze. “So, what am I then?”

Eddie’s stomach ties up in knots. “What are you?”

“If Gareth is your best friend. What am I to you?”

He’s aware that all plausible deniability has disintegrated. It probably did a long time ago, but now is when it really hits him. That look sparks in Steve’s eyes – the cheeky one where he’s being flirty and sexy and he knows it. The one that has been unleashed on him a few times by now, but Eddie’s always made excuses as to why.

And he is trying, trying, to find an excuse right now.

He only slightly pays attention when the chatter in the room gets louder. When everybody turns to the television in the living room that’s playing the New York City ball drop.

Steve doesn’t turn to the TV. He still crowds into Eddie. “Because sometimes I think one thing, and then sometimes it seems like the opposite.”

Eddie’s only slightly aware when the whole room raises their glasses in the air, and they yell in unison: Ten!

Instead of answering Steve’s question, he sucks in a breath and holds it.

Nine!

And then he turns it around; he says, “I don’t know, Stevie. What am I to you?”

Eight!

Steve’s lips twitch into that cocky little grin of his, the crooked one that Eddie loves so much. God, he’s so attractive. “Well, I think –”

Seven!

“– it hasn’t been the most traditional way of getting here. But we’re –”

Six!

“– together. Boyfriends.”

Those two words volley around Eddie’s head for what feels like an eternity. Together. Boyfriends. The world is on a standstill. Everything is in slow motion. His heartbeat stops, and so does his intake of air. Everything kind of zeros in on Steve, and him, so close. Heat radiating from the body that’s pressed up into his own.

A million thoughts race through his mind at once: This isn’t real. You didn’t hear right. This is a joke.

And then there’s the other thoughts. The ones that tell him that everything that has happened since March – everything that’s happened in the last nine months – suddenly makes sense. Everything since waking up in that hospital hand-in-hand with Steve. That maybe the flirty moments – the small touches, the kiss that he only thought was a game, the playfight that turned into something more – maybe those things meant what Eddie was always trying to avoid thinking they might mean.

To keep himself from getting hurt.

But maybe all this time, Steve has cared – the same way Eddie has cared – and he’s been trying to tell him. Not in words, but in actions.

And each time, Eddie had shut himself down afterwards. He closed himself off from allowing a discussion, just in case it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Here it was. That discussion. But it was everything Eddie never expected. Everything he’s always wanted.

All of this berates Eddie’s thoughts, but he’s only aware that no time has passed at all when the crowd yells: Five!

Even though he feels like he’s cracked the code, there’s still that pesky devil on his shoulder that’s whispering in his ear: there’s no way any of that is the case. So he stares up at Steve – he can feel the whites of his eyes shining as they balloon – and he whispers, “Really?”

Four!

Steve’s little smile turns into a full-on grin. His puppy-dog eyes crinkle in the corners. He takes another step into Eddie’s space, even though there’s not much left. When did he get so goddamn close? “Are you gonna give me a kiss?”

Three!

Eddie scans the room. He forgot that they aren’t alone, even though – tucked away in the darkened corner of this massive house – it feels like they are. Nobody is looking. Nobody is looking and Steve is so fucking close…

Two!

Eddie’s eyes flick down to Steve’s mouth. His lips are shimmering pink. Maybe from the drink…

One!

He nods and breathes, “Fuck yeah.” And then Steve’s lips are on his.

It’s as unbelievable as you might think, having Steve Harrington kiss you. Really kiss you. Not under the façade of a game or a dare, but because he wants to.

Just like the rest of him, his lips are sure. Confident. They slot with Eddie’s first with a gentle brush, and then start moving with conviction. He coaxes Eddie’s mouth to part and suddenly he can feel the scrape of Steve’s teeth against his lower lip. He can feel the heat of Steve’s breath as they breathe the same air. He can feel that Roman nose brushing against his own. Feels Steve’s hand – the one not carrying the drink – press flat against his stomach.

And then Steve’s tongue flicks out to catch the jut of Eddie’s lips – kind of like that time on the Fourth of July – but it’s a question. One that Eddie answers by opening his mouth further. That tongue slips inside, and he can see fireworks behind his eyelids, he can taste Steve’s drink, he can feel the slide of wet against his hard palate.

His self-control snaps.

Eddie pushes back into Steve. His tongue meets his in the middle, rougher, impatient. Their teeth clack together, he can feel drool seeping from the corner of his mouth and he’s not sure if it’s his or Steve’s but it doesn’t matter – he wants it all. His tongue licks over Steve’s mouth and he tastes artificial vanilla. And he realises in that moment that Steve’s lips aren’t shining and pink because of the drink, but because of the lip gloss.

When he has that lightbulb moment, Eddie groans into Steve’s open mouth. It’s mostly drowned out by the cheering of the crowd – oh yeah, the crowd – but still, Steve chuckles and pulls back.

“Do you what to stay longer, or do you –?”

“Fuck, no. Let’s get out of here.”

Maybe he’s a bit overeager, but Eddie grabs Steve’s hand that’s still pressed against his stomach and he yanks him towards the front door. Everybody is still blissfully unaware of their kiss. Everybody but Little Miss Drink Mixer Stacy, who’s staring so hard it looks like her pretty green eyes will pop from her skull. Her mouth is hanging open. She’s frozen in place.

Eddie really should be frightened that somebody in Hawkins witnessed such a disgusting act of intimacy between two men, but instead he feels proud. He blows her a kiss and wiggles his fingers in a wave before he and Steve slip from the door and into his rusty van.

He starts the ignition, and before he can even shift into reverse, Steve is grabbing his hand. He stares at it for a minute. Such a simple thing, holding somebody’s hand. But it still has his heart in his throat. It’s just so real.

“What are you thinking right now?” Steve asks.

Eddie feels the ways his fingers fit so perfectly between his own, and counters with a question of his own. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Steve blinks at him from the passenger seat. “What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you – I don’t know – slap some sense into me? Tell me that you… felt this way. Or wanted this.” He gestures vaguely to his chest, wrapped in a WASP t-shirt.

“I thought you knew,” Steve says simply. He gives a loose shrug of his shoulders. “It’s pretty obvious that the things we do together aren’t really – you know. What just friends do.” His brows furrow. “Well, maybe you do those things with your friends, but I don’t –”

“I don’t either.”

Steve pauses for a minute as he smiles over at Eddie. “You really didn’t know?”

“It was weird.” Eddie looks down at his lap. “But I didn’t want to assume things. I didn’t want to wreck our friendship, because I – well, I really like you.”

Steve finally lets go of Eddie’s hand long enough for him to back from the front of the house they emerged from. He grabs it right back once they’re on the main road back to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“I thought it was one of two things,” he says. “I thought you either wanted to take things slow. I didn’t want to pressure you into doing anything, because losing your virginity can be a really big deal.” Eddie’s entire face ignites. He tries not to think about how sad that is – twenty and a virgin. When Steve has been rolling in the sheets since he was probably fifteen. How casually Steve just said that, like it isn’t mortifying. He continues, “Or, I thought you weren’t really interested in taking our friendship any further.”

Eddie gawks at Steve. “Dude, I didn’t even know you being into dudes was a possibility. And if you were…” He pulls into the gravel in front of his trailer. It crunches under the tires. He doesn’t finishes his thought.

Not until Steve squeezes his fingers, and asks, “And if I was, what?”

“And if you were into guys, there’d be no way you were into me.”

Steve looks like he can’t even comprehend why Eddie would say such a thing. That he’s not aware of how different they are. That he’s not aware that Eddie is a mere mortal while he’s a god. “I’m into you, man. I’m so into you.”

Eddie stomach erupts once more into a thousand butterflies. Or maybe they’re bats. He can feel his cheeks turn even redder.

“And for the record,” Steve adds, “I really like you, too. I – I really like you. And I wasn’t lying, at the party. I want us to be boyfriends.”

Eddie chews on a little patch of dry skin on the corner of his lip, and desperately tries to kill the bats flapping away in his chest. “Okay. Boyfriends. I, uh. I want that, too.” He’s not great with words, but it gets his point across.

Because Steve is beaming as he leans across the centre console to press his lips to Eddie’s once more. Eddie tastes peach, and vanilla, and cigarette smoke, and chewing gum. And he tastes just Steve as their tongues mingle together.

Steve’s hands start exploring him – squishing the little meat he has on his thigh, teasing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the few hairs he has trailing from his navel below the waist of his jeans. This time, when his cock starts swelling, he doesn’t try to hide it.

The beautiful cherry on top, is that this time, he’s freshly bathed and somewhat groomed. This time when Steve sees him naked, he won’t be embarrassed.

When Steve sees him naked. What a treacherously delicious thought.

When he moans into Steve’s mouth the same way he did at the party, there are no other noises to swallow it up. So it fills the space of the van, this raunchy sound that tumbles from Eddie without his consent. It sounds so unlike him – desperate and begging. But then Steve makes his own noise, and suddenly Eddie can’t wait any longer. He can’t wait to get himself on Steve, inside Steve, whether it’s his hands or mouth or his perfectly tight ass.

“Fuck,” he groans, “let’s go inside. Now.”

They barely make it through the front door and into his room. Steve is all over him, groping at his nipple ring through the fabric of his shirt, flicking it, twisting it – fuck, fuck. Eddie’s own fingernails are digging painfully hard into Steve’s shoulders, scraping against his neck, pushing under that stupid rugby shirt to rake against his impressive chest.

He crowds into Steve – shoves him against the ledge of his mattress. But before he can get Steve onto his back, he swivels so somehow he’s the one in front of Eddie. He’s the one pushing Eddie onto his back.

He falls to the mattress, Steve towering over him like some powerful warlord.

Eddie’s dick is throbbing, hard as steel in his jeans. He’s probably not contained at all in the – oh, fuck. Oh, FUCK. The G-string. The G-string that he put on before the party. The G-string that he has no intentions – zero – of Steve even knowing he owns, let alone seeing him wear. Why the fuck did he choose tonight to try it out, why did tonight have to be –

Steve bends to pop the button of Eddie’s fly, fingers deftly undoing the zipper.

“Fuck – uh – Steve. I just have to – can I just have a minute? I forgot to do something.” His dick is so tender. He can feel his heart beating between his legs, can feel himself leaking into the tiny cotton gusset of the panties. So small. So tight.

Thankfully, Steve nods. “Don’t take too long.” Before relief can find Eddie, before Steve pulls away from him to let him stand, he dips his fingers under the waistband of his jeans – just a small tease against what is supposed to be his boxers. But they find the string of fabric squeezing against the flesh of his hip instead.

Eddie sees the moment when Steve realises that he’s not feeling the elastic band of Eddie’s normal underwear, but something entirely different. “Uh, Steve…”

“What’s this?” Steve cocks his head to the side as his eyes trail down Eddie’s body, to his gaping jeans. When Eddie looks between his own legs, he nearly chokes at what he sees. The dainty fabric, edged in lace and a tiny, feminine bow, stretching obnoxiously over his cock. It’s holding on for dear life, that little triangle of fabric. It’s barely containing him – it’s not containing him. The waistband isn’t against his skin, it’s being pushed from his body by the swollen head of his cock and through the gap there, the flushed red tip can be seen. Glistening, strained, wet.

“Steve, I didn’t – it’s not…” Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say; he’s wearing women’s underwear. And not just any women’s underwear. The smallest pair that he could possibly get his grubby little hands on. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover what he’s feeling.

Steve’s eyes are glued between Eddie’s legs. “Is that a thong?”

Just hearing those words leave Steve’s mouth makes Eddie want to die. “Oh my God.” He covers his face with his hands. “I didn’t know we’d be doing this – I didn’t know! I’m sorry. I don’t do this all the time. It’s the first time I’ve – I swear. Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s quiet, but Eddie doesn’t dare look at him. Until he hears, “Show me.”

It’s a command, all but growled at Eddie from the man atop him. When Eddie opens his eyes, he’s met with a rather ravenous looking Steve – a predator appraising its prey. His eyes are black, his jaw is tense. The muscles there feathering as he clenches and unclenches his teeth.

“What –?”

“Show. Me.” Steve hauls Eddie to his feet but doesn’t step far enough away. Their chests are still touching – Steve’s heaving like he’s parched for breath. Eddie is frozen for only a moment, but soon enough his trembling fingers are peeling the shirt from his own back.

The look on Steve’s face doesn’t make him feel ashamed anymore. It makes him feel appreciated. Sexy. It makes him feel like maybe this part of himself that he wants to explore – this part of himself that really does make him a freak – can be done next to the man that he can now call his boyfriend. His partner.

He hooks his thumbs under the waist of his jeans, and he pushes them down.

It’s hard to get them off when Steve is still standing so close to him – so close that their bodies rub together as Eddie moves to take the rest of his clothes off, bar the little black G-string that only lived in the back of his drawer. Until now.

The air from Steve’s lungs puffs against Eddie’s face when he straightens himself out again. And then Steve’s hand lifts against his shoulder, pushes him backwards so he stumbles back onto the mattress. And because he’s feeling brave (how could he not when Steve is looking at him like his last meal?), he lays himself out on the bed. He spreads himself open.

Steve’s eyes rake over every inch of Eddie’s body, from the top of his curly head, over his flushed cheeks, down his pale chest that’s painted with not only silvery scars, but splotches of nervous red. They land between Eddie’s legs, where his knees are lewdly spread to display just how much the little triangle is struggling to hold everything down there. Eddie knows how it gapes around his balls, how heavy they look compared to the scrap of fabric. He knows because he stared at himself in his mirror before they left for that stupid party. And he knows that now, with his cock engorged between his legs, that it’s only gaping more.

Eddie swears he sees Steve’s knees nearly give out. He definitely sees his hands form fists by his sides, knuckles going white with the force of them. Steve doesn’t lift his eyes from Eddie’s crotch as he says, “I am going to fuck you until you cry.”

The room spins as Steve undresses – Eddie barely registers his words. He drinks in Steve’s near naked body, his abs that flutter as he works off his belt and then his Levi’s. The thick outline of his dick tenting his black boxers. But then he thinks, ‘when Steve fucks me?’ as he crawls slowly between Eddie’s legs. So he hooks them around Steve’s middle and uses all his might to flip that muscled body onto it’s back.

Eddie straddles Steve as he says, “I think you meant to say you’ll cry as I fuck you, Harrington.”

He can feel the line of Steve’s cock under his boxers, pressed against his near bare ass. It’s only made more obvious as Steve grabs Eddie’s hips and pulls them harder against himself, lifting his hips to rub against his body. “But your ass looks so good in that tiny little thong.”

“I don’t think you got a great look at my ass yet. How would you know?”

And just as fast as he got Steve onto his back, he’s on his again. Steve looms over him, grabs around his torso, and flips his body like a ragdoll. Eddie’s face presses into the blankets as he lays face-down, his dick throbbing as it rubs under him and against the mattress. Steve’s hands splay against the valley of Eddie’s spine, fingers slipping under the string waist of the G-string, pulling the fabric where it was almost buried between the cheeks of his ass. “I’m getting a pretty good look now. Turns out, I’m right.”

Eddie tries to lift himself up, tries to get himself in a position of power once more. But Steve bores down on him, pressing his chest flush against the panes of Eddie’s back. His hips pitch forward and his cock drags against the cleft of Eddie’s ass. And he hates himself for this, he really does, but he whines at the sensation. He whines, long and loud into the ruffled blankets, a little river of drool seeping from the corner of his lips as he does.

“If you think you’re going to stick your cock in my ass, Harrington, you can think again,” Eddie says. But there’s a part of him, a small part that’s growing, that knows that’s a blatant lie.

He always thought, without a doubt, he’d top the first time he had sex, and he’d top the second, and the third, and the fourth, and so on. He thought he’d always be the one to get someone underneath him, someone crying and begging, someone gagging to get dicked down.

But he feels himself falling into some form of submission. Not that he wants to admit it.

Steve presses into Eddie again and again. He can feel the panties soaking up as much of his precum as it possibly can, but it must be reaching its threshold. There’s so much. His cock is weeping and so is he as he hears Steve grunting with each thrust. “But think about how good it’ll feel. Think about being stuffed full of my cock, Munson.”

Eddie isn’t crying yet, but it sure sounds like he is with the noise that just erupted from him. It’s enough of an answer for Steve.

“Fuck yeah, listen to yourself. You want to take it as much as I want to give it to you.”

Eddie tries to swallow down his sobs, his pants, but really he just sounds pathetic as he says, “In your dreams.”

Steve bends over Eddie’s back, gets his face nice and close to his ear. “You’re damn right in my dreams.”

A finger slips under the band of Eddie’s thong and pressed against his asshole. Eddie moans and arches into it, but he spits, “Fuck you, man,” with the little conviction he has left.

It’s not very much.

He wants Steve, he wants to be coated with him, covered from head to toe, all over his skin, outside, inside. He wants to take Steve’s cock every way that he can.

“Keep these on,” is all Steve says as he moves away from Eddie’s back, snapping the thin side of his panties against his skin.

Eddie does.

But Steve – he strips down to nothing, completely bare naked as he stands near the edge of the mattress. His cock juts proudly from him, and Eddie turns to stare, taking in every goddamn inch of his impressive length. Somehow, that’s going to be inside him, but he can barely compute it.

“Lube?” asks Steve. Eddie points to his end table where he keeps stuff like that. The rare nudie mag, the bottle of lube, the nipple clamps.

The nipple clamps.

Eddie grins something sharp and feral as he tumbles from the bed, reaching the drawer before Steve has the chance. He throws the lube onto the mattress, but he keeps the nipple clamps in his hands, joined together by a thin, silver chain.

Steve eyes the metal in his hands. “What’s that?”

“These, dear, sweet Stevie, are what you’re going to have to agree to if you think you’re fucking me tonight.” Eddie would bend to Steve’s will either way, but he wants to see what he can get away with. Steve sucks his lip between his teeth and clamps down on it. He’s nodding before Eddie even has the chance to tell him what they are. “Good. Get on the bed.”

Eddie regains some of his gumption as Steve clambers to obey his orders, throwing himself on the double mattress that they’ve shared now for months. He leans his back against the headboard, reaching between his legs to stroke at his cock that looks nearly as painful as Eddie’s own.

If Eddie did the same thing, he’d come in a matter of seconds. It’s probably better he gets fucked than do the fucking, because it would last no longer than he could even get himself sheathed in Steve.

He walks on his knees to where Steve is splayed out – as if on a platter. He runs his hands against the fuzz on his thighs, up the rippling abs that are adorned with matching scars to his own (albeit, not as many), through the thatch of chest hair between his pecs. Then he pinches on Steve’s pretty, pink nipples to get them peaked and prepped for his little surprise.

Steve gasps, but presses into Eddie’s fingers. His hand stills from stroking his cock as Eddie swings the simple, circular clamps, attached by a chain, between their chests. “You ready?”

“Fuck yeah,” Steve says, even though Eddie is sure he has no idea what he’s agreeing to.

He opens the clamps wide enough that they won’t hurt too much, but narrow enough to pinch into the peaks on Steve’s chest. Steve moans when the first one clamps onto his nipple, and lets his head fall back onto the headboard for the second one. Eddie trembles with delight as Steve’s cock offers a pearl of precum when he tugs on the chain.

So he swoops to lick it up.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve gasps, eyes fluttering open as Eddie’s tongue swipes against the bulb of his dick. He seals his lips around the head of his cock, and sucks on it like a cherry popsicle in June. Steve’s hips buck forward into the heat of Eddie’s mouth, against the soft skin of his cheek. He twirls his tongue and laps at the slit, and he’s not sure if he’s doing a great job, but Steve’s thighs twitch under his hands and he’s making these sexy little noises, so he figures it can’t be bad.

He savours the musky taste of Steve, salty and bitter. And he learns pretty quickly that sucking Steve’s dick might be his new favourite pastime. The way he shakes and whines and whimpers is almost as delicious as the heavy, hot feeling of the cock in his mouth.

It only takes five minutes before Steve is tugging on Eddie’s hair, easing his lips from his length as he says, “Okay, okay. Don’t make me come yet. Jesus.”

Eddie wipes at the saliva seeping from his mouth with the back of one of his hands. He tugs on the chain connecting Steve’s nipples once more, making him keen into the air. Music.

The next thing Eddie knows, he’s being charged by Steve’s broad shoulders, backwards. He falls flat on his back, his head and hair hanging from the foot of the mattress as Steve grapples at the lube.

He doesn’t say anything as he slicks up his fingers, he only stares down at Eddie with so much want that it looks like he might burst. If it’s anywhere close to what Eddie’s feeling, that might very well happen.

“Ready?” Steve leans forward and tugs Eddie’s panties to the side. He can hear the threads in them pop as they’re forced past their limit of stretch. And as they pull to the side, his cock springs free from what little fabric sheathed it. They both look between his legs, at how red Eddie is. How swollen, how wet. His dick twitches at the attention, and he spreads his knees further apart as his answer to Steve’s question.

It stings when Steve pushes two of his fingers into Eddie. It stings, but more than that, it stretches, it spreads, it squeezes. God, he feels so full, Steve’s fingers are so big. He moans unabashedly at the ceiling, twisting his fingers into his own hair to distract himself.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, pulling his fingers out only to plunge them back into Eddie deeper than before.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, yeah.” Eddie tries not to let the tear gathering in his eye slip bast the brim. It doesn’t work. It feels… it feels so good. Like its scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. And then Steve’s fingers brush against something inside him – a spot he’s only read about – one he didn’t really know was fact or fiction.

It’s fact. It’s so fucking fact.

His voice breaks as he all but yells into he empty air, Steve’s fingers brushing against that spot over and over and over… and, Jesus, he’s not even touching Eddie’s dick but he’s gonna come. He’s gonna come before Steve has a chance to touch him.

But then Steve stops.

“You sound so fucking hot,” he says, slathering his hand and his dick with more lube. He pushes a third finger into Eddie like he’s making a point, forcing him to cry out once more. This time he doesn’t brush against that spot, Eddie has enough time to recollect himself as he gets stretched over Steve’s fingers.

“Steve?” he says, lifting himself to rest on his forearms. Steve cocks his head sideways, his fingers stilling inside Eddie’s body. “Fuck me. Right now. Fuck me.” And just to assert his dominance, he grabs the back of Steve’s neck and hauls him closer.

Steve growls and blankets himself over Eddie.

His lips crush against Eddie’s. Their kiss is anything but timid or practiced or skilled as they attack each other with their tongues, devouring each other in deeps licks and bruising bites. Everything between them wet and warm.

The blunt end of Steve’s cock lines up against Eddie as they consume each other. And then he’s pushing forward.

Someone – Eddie isn’t sure which of them – moans into the other’s mouth. It’s a shared breath anyway, when one noise is made, the other swallows it down. Give and take.

There’s an unrelenting pressure between them, and Eddie feels it when the head of Steve’s cock pushes past his rim. He’s never felt like he feels in this moment. Claimed, but still equal as he presses his fingers into Steve’s neck with one hand and tugs yet again on the chain attached to his nipples with the other. Steve whimpers as much as Eddie, sliding forward inch by glorious inch. And then he’s seated so deeply inside him that Eddie swears he can see a bulge by his belly button.

“You better start moving,” Eddie says, panting against Steve’s lips, “or I’ll pin you down and do it myself.”

With that, Steve pulls an inch from Eddie’s body and pitches forward again. His cock rubs against that bundle of nerves inside Eddie, and he starts leaking profusely between their stomachs, a jolt buzzing into his core each time Steve’s abdomen brushes against his flushed tip.

Steve hums into Eddie’s mouth as his pace quickens. Eddie could come from the sound alone – their skin slapping together aggressively, only heightened by the ridiculous amounts of lube slicking their bodies. Steve grunting and hissing. His eyes squeezing shut and fluttering back open to bore into Eddie’s. They’re both covered in a sheen of sweat; Steve’s olive skin glistening and sparkling against the warm light of the tabletop lamp.

The coil in Eddie’s stomach tightens and burns bright. He’s whining with each thrust of Steve, building a tension that’s about to snap. And as if Steve knows, he wraps his fingers around Eddie’s cock and starts stroking, quick, dirty.

“Oh, fuck, Steve. Steve.” He can feel his body tensing around Steve’s length, can feel his muscles beginning to contract.

“You gonna come all over my cock?” Steve says, low and sultry. It almost finishes Eddie off.

But somehow he holds off, just for a few more seconds. Enough to say, “Not before you come inside me, baby.” He doesn’t even know if it’s true. But still, he pulls on Steve’s nipple clamps because he has an inkling that it might finish him.

“Fuuucckk, fuck.” Steve’s hips lose their rhythm. He fucks into Eddie sloppily, and then something hot and wet is dripping from inside him as he rockets against his ass.

When Eddie feels Steve’s cum dripping out of himself, getting shoved back in with Steve’s still pistoning hips, the tension snaps. Cum surges from his cock in hot, white ribbons, slicking Steve’s fist, catching in the fabric of the G-string bunched to one side, shooting against Steve’s and his own scars.

He’s sure he says something – maybe a string of curse words, maybe Steve’s name – but his mind whites out before he can commit that detail to memory. But he does know his muscles are tremoring in Steve’s grasp, he does know Steve’s abs twitch against his fingers as he rubs his spend into his skin.

And then they collapse, Steve softening in Eddie’s body with each of their heady breaths.

Time ticks by until Eddie can comprehend. And then – like the time before – he laughs.

“What the fuck?” Steve says, but it has no malice. He lifts his head from Eddie’s neck, where he was pressing delicate kisses, to grin down on him. “Is that something I’ll have to get used to? You laughing after sex?”

Eddie isn’t really sure. So he says, “I guess we’ll have to have more sex to see.”

Finally, Steve pulls out. Eddie can feel liquid drooling from within him, cum and lube. He needs a shower. But he needs this moment with Steve more, so he wraps his arms around those strong shoulders and pulls him into his chest. Steve hums his approval, nestles into Eddie’s side like he belongs there.

He does belong there.

When Eddie goes to the bathroom to shower, Steve joins him like he did all those months ago. This time, however, he steps into the water. He wraps his arms around Eddie and presses the pads of his fingers into his head when he washes his hair so sensually, that Eddie might weep. Steve doesn’t say something smart when Eddie gets hard again; Eddie doesn’t feel embarrassed about it.

They get each other off a second time, with Steve’s hand wrapped flawlessly around them both.

Then when they go to bed, they tangle together in a pile of limbs, without even their boxers. This time, when he wakes up to Steve clung to him, Eddie doesn’t go still or try to keep Steve from waking. He presses into him until his eyes flicker open in the dark of the dead of night.

They get each other off a third time, with Eddie nestled tightly between Steve’s thighs and his fingers circling his cock possessively.

Then, they finally fall asleep.

January 1st, 1987

Eddie wakes up in Steve’s arms.

This time, he doesn’t question what it means, doesn’t question what might happen tomorrow.

A new year.

A new start – with Steve.

’86 really was his year.

THE END :)

MASTERLIST

SOCIALS

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[freckledjoes]

Munson mornings

Friday - March 21st, 1986

It was one of those rare days where Wayne had worked an afternoon shift, meaning that he had had plenty of sleep before he sat down at the kitchen table in their trailer. He knew it would take Eddie about an hour or more before he'd wake up from his slumber, probably grasping at some honey combs before he'd rush out the door, mumbling something along the lines of "Missed first period, what's new." with his mouth still full. Wayne would then look at the crumbs on the doormat and consider that a task for another day.

However, today was a different day for both Munsons, it seemed, as Wayne heard Eddie trashing about in his room, loudly complaining about being unable to find something, much earlier than he was used of him. At one point he let out a happy yell, meaning that he'd probably found what he was looking for, and then possibly stubbed his toe in excitement, judging by all of the swearing that immediately followed after. His door opened, the bathroom door following and not much later Wayne could hear the shower.

Seeing as his nephew would probably have considerable time to get to school, he figured he could make them some eggs on toast, a little treat right before the weekend. It wasn't until Eddie stepped out of the shower that he realized that Wayne was home.

"You're home? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Afternoon shift."

"Oh. Eggs?"

"If you wanna."

"Sure. Can you—"

"Already done it."

Wayne had prepared Eddie's plate just how he liked it, with the eggs cut perfectly to fit on the toast, and the other bits on the side so he could eat those as a "snack". Eddie got dressed first, left the towel around his neck for his dripping curls and added a tiny bit of eyeliner to his eyes. As Eddie sat down, Wayne could immediately tell he was excited about something by the way his features contrasted his usual morning expression drastically. That meant four options.

One: He had a date (unlikely)

Two: Some kind of good drug deal coming up (possible, but Eddie usually didn't really talk about that stuff around his uncle)

Three: He had a gig (it wasn't Tuesday)

Four: Anything related to his D&D campaign (bingo)

"Those little shits have no idea what's coming," Eddie said with a slight evil grin right before taking a bite of his toast, groaning at the taste of it.

"Campaign night?"

"Uh-huh. I've got the dungeon all set up. There are so many traps, but there are two things that could help them out if they know where to look. Dustin will probably try but I bet Mike's gonna rush them into their deaths without blinking. Him and probably Gareth. See, there's this, let's call him "demon guy" for your sake, and he's gonna be waiting right here," Eddie grabbed some dry crackers that he wasn't planning to eat and used them to lay out a part of the dungeon map he'd been working on the past few weeks. Wayne followed his movements, watched how Eddie broke tiny pieces off the crackers to emphasize that one bit had a rounded corner, and stacked some honey combs to show the position of "demon guy" while also popping a few of them into his mouth as he explained further.

Eddie went on and on, eggs on toast almost forgotten until Wayne wordlessly nudged his plate so he'd remember and would take a bite out of it in between. Wayne watched him fondly, cherishing the light he recognized in Eddie's eyes, a light that seemed a rare occurence nowadays. He hoped that graduating would work out this year, so Ed could stop beating himself up about it. Maybe he could get himself a job as a mechanic, he seemed to like working on his van. Or perhaps something backstage, with lights or music, so that he could be involved in that industry even if he hadn't made it big himself just yet. Wayne knew he was meant for big things. He had the drive for it, just needed the confidence.

"Wayne? Are you listening? This part is crucial."

"What did I tell ya about chewing with your mouth open, boy?" Wayne sighed half-heartedly as crumbs landed everywhere on the table. Eddie gave him an apologetic smile (full of food) and tapped impatiently on a piece of honey comb that now represented a summoning circle.

"So this is where..."

Wayne didn't mean to, he really didn't, but he lost track the second Eddie started talking. Maybe being distracted was a Munson trait, who knew. He smiled fondly and took in all his gestures, enjoying the quiet morning with his nephew who was the opposite of quiet. It was nice, having him around. It always had been, even throughout puberty where he hadn't always been easy. He would always be his boy, a young man ahead of his old man in many ways.

As Eddie finished his breakfast and went back into his room to grab his stuff for the campaign that evening, Wayne decided he should ask Eddie about the campaign the next day. He couldn't wait to see hear how his clever nephew made those kids twist and turn. Eddie was a great storyteller, and his own story was only just beginning.

—

This was a vague idea that popped up in my brain, which I shared with @stevesxyellowxsweater, basically thanks to Joseph mentioning a dinner scene (I think it was dinner? I'm forgetful - anyway I turned it into breakfast) between Eddie and Wayne would've been nice.

It's a little painful, in retrospect, but that's the duffelbags' fault not mine :)) Anyway hope you like? I rarely post writings sooo yeah.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie and wayne munson #wayne munson #stranger things fic #how the fuck do i tag this properly #my-fics #? #? i guess #joseph quinn

[neonghostlights]

A/N: Hey, y’all. So this one is gonna be a wild ride. I do have a tag list for this but I will only add you if your bio confirms you are over 18. If you’re a minor please don’t interact with me or my blog. Also, I named this after the song by The Pixies.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think. 

Warnings: Post Season 4, Blood (a lot), Nightmares, Head Injury, Memory Loss, Brief Mention Of Hospitals and Doctors, Medication (Pills), Not a whole lot of dialogue in this chapter mostly world building, 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.5k

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Series Master list

Part One

Friday, August 22nd, 1986

There was blood, screaming and devastation as you crouched over the body. The blood was forming a dark puddle around the person. It stained your hands with a deep crimson but you didn’t care. All you knew was that you needed to help this person. Whoever they were. 

The screaming roared in your ears, so loud that you were certain you would burst an eardrum. You weren’t sure where it was coming from though. You didn’t have time to search for a source. You needed to save them. 

Tears made your vision blurry as you pressed on the wounds, hoping to keep the stranger's blood inside of their body. Your hands slipped along the skin through their torn shirt, making it difficult to apply pressure. 

Wherever you were was dark. Red lights flashed in the distance but you didn’t have time to focus on that. 

There was too much blood. There were too many wounds. You were losing them. 

Another scream, louder this time rang through the air. The person was trying to talk to you but you couldn’t hear their voice. Another bloody hand pressed against your own, like they were trying to comfort you despite their bleeding out. 

You looked at the person's face to see what they were saying but they were gone. Where their body once laid was suddenly empty. Blood still stains your hands, your clothes, the pavement. So much that you could smell it on your skin and taste it on your tongue. 

Another scream. 

You pressed your hands to where the body once laid. 

“No. No. No. No. No,” you wailed as you ran your hands over the ground, hoping that they would appear again. “Come back.”

You jolted forward in your bed. Sweat coated your skin, causing your shirt to stick to you. The air wooshed in and out of your lungs loudly as you panted. The beating of your heart echoed loudly in your head. A crinkled top sheet and blanket were tangled at your feet while your pillow laid on the floor from your thrashing. 

Your alarm rang loudly from your nightstand beside you. Signaling the start of a new day. You slammed your palm down on it to get it to stop. Reaching over, you clicked off the lamp that you had started to leave on everynight in hopes that it would rid you of your continuous nightmares. 

So far, it hasn't worked. Not that you had much hope in it anyways, nothing you had tried had helped you in your predicament. 

The room was hot, or maybe it was just because you were still worked up from the nightmare. 

Nightmares, nosebleeds, headaches, memory loss. All normal from your head injury. Or so the doctor tells you at every visit. 

You had gone from normal to nutcase in a moment's notice. Ever since you had been injured in the earthquake, you hadn’t been the same. You knew it, your mom knew it, the whole town of Hawkins probably knew it. 

You didn’t remember the earthquake. Nor did you remember much of the week leading up to it. All you did remember was waking up in a hospital bed with your mother by your side.

Just a head injury. That’s what the doctors had said after tests upon tests while you were in the hospital. Like that was the most reassuring thing in the world to hear. 

If your mom didn’t force you to go to your appointments then you would have stopped going a long time ago. If you had to hear someone in a white coat tell you to ‘just give it more time’ again you thought you would go even crazier. 

You tried to appear hopeful to make your mom happy. But even that was becoming tiring. She could be overbearing. It was enough of a fight to allow you to live on your own even though you were an adult. You couldn’t blame her though. Ever since your dad had died when you were younger she had been a nervous wreck. Your injury was just the tipping point. 

You physically couldn’t stand to stay in a house with her anymore. She hovered over everything you did. And though you were grateful to have a parent that loved you so much, you had enough. 

Every nightmare where you woke up panting and screaming was reason enough for her to burst into your room to check on you and scare you even more. The constant fussing over you with your headaches and nosebleeds even though they were common occurrences now had made you feel ten times worse, causing you to snap at her when she tried to help you. 

Enough was enough. So after a lot of fights and heated debates, you moved into the small home that your grandmother had once owned. Really this arrangement worked out for everyone. The once empty house now had life in it again. You would be able to take care of it and try to fix it up while you also got space from your mother. 

You liked being alone in your little house. The only downside would be the silence making your thoughts louder. Playing your music cranked up all the way from the little radio that sat on your kitchen counter seemed to help with that for the most part. Not only did it help with your thoughts, but the music also miraculously helped your headaches. And when there wasn’t the music, there was always the heaps of medicines you had been prescribed. 

You didn’t know why the music helped. When you told your doctor he just raised his eyebrows at you and wrote something down. So who knows. 

The house was a small two bedroom in a wooded area not too far from Lovers Lake. Far enough that the house received minimal damage from the quake. 

If only you could say the same about yourself. 

You pushed yourself out of the bed and trudged to the bathroom. Surprisingly, you didn’t wake up with a nosebleed today. They happened so often that you had to switch out your white sheets for a darker color because you got tired of scrubbing them everyday. At this point you felt like you could single-handedly leave a crime scene spotless while armed only with a scrub brush and hydrogen peroxide.  

Your days were usually all the same. You get ready for work in the hallway bathroom, remind yourself to fix the leaky sink, take your medication, grab your lunch, and run out the door. 

Your drive to work was full of detours and sharp turns. The earthquake happened back in March, and seems like the town is taking its time to rebuild. Some roads were still shut down, including most of mainstreet. 

There had been a large number of environmental scientists roaming the area around the quake. A lot of men with hazmat suits frequented the sites of destruction. Every time you saw them it gave you the chills. Reminding you of something from an apocalyptic movie. 

You pulled into the small brick building with the bright yellow sign outside. Hawkins Daycare was not your first choice for a job. But as it turns out, bills do not stop for natural disasters or medical emergencies. So here you were.

You walk in through the front doors. No kids were there yet so you joined your coworkers in getting things set up for the day. The two ladies you worked with were older than you by at least 30 something years. You also suspected that they didn’t like you since you replaced their friend that had retired. This left you all working together in silence. 

Not that you minded. You just wanted to do your job and go home for the day. The worst part would be the days that the headaches are bad. Kids screaming and crying over spilled paint or missing toys definitely didn’t help. 

Today was definitely one of those days. It had started out so well but around lunch time your head was pounding. Every noise and glare of the harsh fluorescent lights intensified the pain to the point of nausea. 

Your coworker, Connie, must have noticed you rubbing your temples, or maybe it was the squinting or winces at every loud child but she gave you a pointed look. “Are you okay over there?” She said as she sat in a chair too small for her, helping a kid glue some papers together. It wasn’t hard to miss her condescending tone. 

“Yep, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom really quickly. Be right back.” You got up and grabbed your bag. Determined to make it to the bathroom before she could even reply to you. 

You slid the lock on the bathroom door the second you shut it. Standing in front of the sink you pressed your forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

You pulled away from the sink to reach in your bag and dig until your fingers made contact with the plastic bottle. 

Using the water that flowed from the sink and your hands as a cup, you swallowed down the 3 pills of extra strength whatever you had grabbed from the pharmacy. 

Another breath. 

You opened your eyes again when you felt the wetness on your face. 

“Shit,” you muttered as you cupped your hand over your nose to try to catch the blood before it ruined your shirt any more. 

You grabbed a handful of the harsh paper towels, wetting them in the sink before you wiped the blood from your nose to your upper lip. 

You leaned closer to the mirror to ensure you had gotten it all when you saw a dark figure run quickly behind you. The shadowy silhouette had moved so quickly you almost missed it. 

“Hello?” you called. Back pressed against the sink. You knew you had to be alone. The doors were open to the two stalls in front of you leaving the intruder with no place to hide. 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

“It’s not a nightmare. You’re okay,” you reaffirmed yourself before spinning to make sure you had cleaned all the blood off before going back to work. 

The rest of the day went by without any more mishaps. You could’ve gone without the judgemental  looks Connie purposefully shot you and the blood stains on your shirt from your nosebleed. 

At least it was friday. 

The weather was nice enough to roll the windows down in your car for the drive home. The loud guitar solo playing from your speakers assisted in clearing your mind as you navigated the roads home. 

Times like this were your refuge. You had always loved music but since your injury it had become your lifeline. It was the only time you didn’t have to think about the headaches, the nightmares, the nosebleeds, the memory loss, or the constant feeling that something was misplaced. You could just exist. 

The memory loss was probably the worst part. The days leading up to the earthquake were gone. A large chunk of highschool was gone. Certain birthdays and holidays were gone. Your highschool graduation was gone. It was an unsettling feeling like a large part of you was lost forever. 

Whenever you asked your mom about the hospital or about how exactly you had gotten hurt in the quake, you were always met with a deflective answer. You assume it’s just too hard for her to talk about. 

The ding of the gas light turning on drew you from your thoughts. Making a sharp last minute turn you pulled into one of the only gas stations on this side of town. 

On the way into the store you dug in your bag, in search of your wallet. You didn’t realize the man was there until you ran right into his chest. Your wallet hit the ground with a loud smack.

“Shit, are you okay?” the man said, grabbing your arms to keep you steady. 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about th-” your words died in your throat as you realized who you had run into. 

You cleared your throat and pointedly looked at where his hands still rested on your arms . “Yeah, Eddie. I’m fine.”

He pulled his hands away quickly but his look of concern didn’t disappear. 

“You know who I am?” he said so quietly that you almost missed it. 

“We went to school together, I think.” You shuffled your feet awkwardly. “Besides, I think everyone knows who you are.” You tilted your head towards two older men that stood outside the gas station smoking their cigarettes and glaring at Eddie. 

Eddie had gotten himself into some trouble right before the earthquake. You had no memory of it happening but according to the news reports and the talk around town it was a big deal. 

The murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, and Patrick Mckinney had rocked the town of Hawkins. You couldn’t remember the story you had heard exactly but apparently there had been a manhunt for Eddie. He had been the main suspect due to some damning evidence. The rumors of his ties to Satanism and the occult surely didn’t help his case to the town either. 

You didn’t have many memories of Eddie from school besides the occasional class or his lunch table rampages that you only vaguely recalled. He seemed to have been just a passing blur in the hallway. Honestly, if you hadn’t seen him in front of you now you probably wouldn’t have been able to put a face to the name. 

“Right, from school. Let me just grab that for you,” he said as he snatched your wallet from the ground and held it out for you. 

You took it out of his hand and clutched it protectively to your chest. It didn’t go unnoticed from you that Eddie kept opening and closing his mouth like he had something else to say to you. 

Eventually he gave up and snapped his mouth shut. His eyes never leaving your face, bouncing around each of your features like he didn’t know where to focus. You felt uneasy. Not that Eddie was as scary up close as he looked from a distance but a nagging voice in the back of your head reminded you that he was accused of murder. Yeah, all of the charges had been dropped, but it was still scary. 

What if the courts had gotten it wrong?

You were saved from the awkward silence when one of the men smoking in front of the building spoke up. “Hey, is he bothering you?”

You and Eddie both snapped out of your trances. He took a large step back away from you to give you some space. 

You shook your head at the older men and gave Eddie a polite smile before sidestepping around him to head into the gas station. 

When you made it inside you glanced over your shoulder to see him still standing where you left him. His shoulders were tense and his head was tilted down like he was staring at the ground. 

Weird. 

You grabbed your snacks and paid for your gas. Ignoring the strange sense of panic overtaking your body. 

By the time you made it back outside, you were relieved to see that Eddie Munson was gone. 

Taglist: (* means tag wont work)

@sadbitchfangirl @gaysludge @daisydamed

@mandyjo8719 @josephquinncore @stevieharringtonswife @hazydespair @sheneedsrocknroll92 @mopeymopeymouse*

18+ only for the taglist. Ageless and blank blogs will not be tagged.

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson series #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson season 4 #stranger things

[hairmetal666]

Steddie Notes BONUS PART

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed. He’s a little surprised, honestly, since he had his heart set on first anniversary morning sex. Though, based on the smells wafting through their apartment, Steve’s making breakfast, which is an acceptable alternative (plus, if he has it his way, they aren’t leaving the bed again today).

The digital alarm clock on his bedside table is obscured by a Composition Book he doesn’t remember bringing to bed. He reaches for it before his brain registers the red ink dragon sketched on the cover. His hands tremble as he flips it open, but the first few pages are written in his own scrawl. Steve’s handwriting doesn’t appear until 10 pages in and Eddie’s heart stutters at the sight.

March 28, 1986

God, Eddie, I’m so sorry. So, so fucking sorry. I can’t— I’m sorry. I should have been there, I should’ve protected you, I should’ve kept you safe. 

You wouldn’t be part of this if it weren’t for me. Robin and Dustin keep telling me that's not true, that Chrissy was already cursed but. Robin is here because of me. Erica-fucking Sinclair is here because of me. And now you. And you’re dying. And it’s my fault. 

I don’t even know what I’m doing right now, but I can’t just sit and wait, I’d lose my mind. Anyway. You left this notebook in my trunk, and I hope you don’t mind that I’m using it. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified in my life, Eds.

Please don’t die on me. I can’t live in this world without you. 

March 29, 1986

Hey Eds

You made it through the night. I can’t fucking believe it. I ripped Robin’s shirt when the doctor came in to tell us that you were out of surgery and stable, and then he dropped the bomb that your chance of surviving the night was 40%. Forty-fucking-percent. I guess you beat the odds, babylove.

I’m with Uncle Wayne at your bedside. He threw a fit to make sure I could be here whenever I wanted, and that everyone could visit.

You’ve missed some wild shit, Munson, you’re going to be so mad when you wake up. 

Come back to me, sweet boy. I can’t take this.

March 30, 1986

Made it through a second night, babe. 

I hope you wake up soon. 

Miss you like crazy. 

I keep looking at you in this hospital bed, and you look so fucking small. I hate it. You’re the loudest voice in the room. You don’t just take up space, you demand it. It’s killing me that I haven’t heard your voice in days. And my brain, it keeps filling in things you would say, and I wait for you to speak up, but of course you don’t. It’s a kick to the balls every single time. 

The thing is. 

The thing is that I need you to wake up, Eddie. You can’t leave me. I made up my mind a long time ago, we’re spending our lives together. And it can’t fucking end now. It can’t end because of this. 

And I need you to open your goddamn beautiful eyes so I can tell you how much I love you. You don’t get to go before you hear me say it, do you understand?

I love you. You’re it for me. I’ve never wanted a forever as much as I want one with you. So, you have to wake up, yeah? You have to wake up so we can grow up, have a family, have a life together. 

Promise you won’t leave me, Eds.

March 31, 1986

You woke up, you motherfucker. The doctors kicked me out to look you over and I cried so hard in the bathroom that Robin made El break down the door with her powers. 

Thank you for coming back. I won’t ever let you go again.

April 7, 1987

I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m giving this to you, babylove. It’s been a year. Look how far we’ve come. 

✏️✏️✏️✏️

September 18, 2015

It’s way too fucking early for Eddie to even be awake and he has the day off. Steve asked him to take vacation months ago, didn’t say why, and now that fucker has the audacity to not even be in the house. And like, sure, they’ve been together for close to thirty years, and Eddie knows that Steve goes for a run at the ass crack of dawn.

Still pisses him off, though. 

Eddie huffs down to the kitchen to get coffee started, doing a double take when he sees a familiar black Composition Book with red dragon on the cover. 

He walks towards it slowly because this has been framed on the wall since their first anniversary, way back in ’87, and Steve isn’t home.

Eddie opens it, re-reads the panicked, lovesick notes Steve wrote in the hospital, doesn't bother to fight back the tears. He gets to the last letter and the paper is stiff and wrinkled, like it took water damage. Eddie flips the page, grief already pumping through his veins.

What he sees instead is college-ruled notebook paper, glued in place. It reads:

“I fucking hate this class.”

“Tell me about it.”

“trig. You?”

“Algebra 2 :(” 

A sound escapes his mouth, something between a laugh and a sob.

“Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me...”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of beautiful, Munson?”

“Watch. The. Movie. This is the last time we get high first if this is how you behave.”

 “What are you gonna win me at the fair, Harrington?” 

 “If you’re nice to me, probably something cute.” 

“Eddie…I think I really like you

You’re my favorite person in the entire world

Some days you’re the only thing I can think about

I want to wake up in bed with you everyday

I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you

Do you like me? Yes or No”

“What are you doing about Hellfire?”

“Huh?”

“If the game is Friday. Lucas can’t do both.”

“He made his choice.”

“You ever been in love?”

No, but I think I’m falling”

“I love you, Eddie”

All the sketches of the sailor boy and the rockstar are there, even the one Eddie stuck to the poster in his room, though how Steve managed to get that is anyone’s guess.

There are pictures too, Eddie and Max still recuperating in the hospital; Corroded Coffin performing at the Hideout; them holding the keys to the bar, Steve shirtless and hammering something while Eddie looks on, with the increasingly popular bands Eddie booked to play their must-see Friday night slots; Steve on his first day of college and one of him jumping into Eddie’s arms in his graduation gown, mortar board slipping off his head; In the hospital cradling their twin girls with Max giving a weary thumbs-up between them. Shot after shot of their family, their life, their dreams coming true. A scrapbook of their lives together, big moments and small; good and bad. 

Eddie’s crying freely as he flips through the rest of the book, still fucking astounded that Steve is the love of his life, that they’re making a forever together.

Eddie flips to the last page. Stops dead. 

In Steve’s looped handwriting, unchanged since high school, it says:

“Eddie, 

         Will you marry me?”

“What the fuck?” He yelps, standing up fast enough that his chair crashes to the floor. 

He turns and Steve— his reason for being, the man that brought him back from the dead—Steve Harrington, is down on one knee, something silver glinting in his outstretched hand.

“Eddie,” he says, his voice a wreck. “Marry me?” 

Eddie crashes to his knees, shoving at Steve’s shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

Steve laughs. “Is that a yes?”

Eddie laughs too, but it quickly morphs into a sob, “Of course it’s a yes, Steve. Of course.”

Hands trembling, Steve slips the ring onto Eddie’s hand. It’s a thin silver band with skeletal hands contorted into an infinity symbol. 

They fall into a kiss that rips the breath from Eddie’s lungs, but then that’s nothing new. When they finally pull apart Eddie asks, “why today?”

Steve blushes and grabs at the back of his neck. “Thirty-one years ago, I walked into Mundy’s class and found a note on the window ledge.” 

“What the fuck.” Eddie’s mouth drops, his heart stuttering. This man.

“Once I figured out you leaving that note was going to be one of the most important moments of my life? I made sure to never forget.”

“Baby.” Eddie pulls Steve in for another kiss. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Steve tugs at Eddie’s hand. “C’mon.”

“Where we going?” 

“The girls will be here in a couple hours, and I have some things I want to do to you before they’re home.”

“The GIRLS?” Eddie shrieks. “How the hell long have you been planning this? Did they KNOW?”

“Since the end of June,” Steve answers without missing a beat. “And of course they know. Everyone knows. I asked Wayne for his blessing.” 

Eddie can’t speak, his heart crashing in his chest as he, once again, thanks whatever entity made it possible for him to have this.

“I’ve been in love with you for over half my life, Eds. I wanted to do this right. You deserve it. We deserve it.” 

He pulls Steve into his arms, kissing him hard enough that their teeth clack, but neither of them care.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

When they come home from dinner, as Steve reaches in his pocket for his keys to let the entire family in the house to celebrate their engagement, he finds a gum wrapper tucked in with the metal. He unfolds it, the words within unfurling in his heart, his soul.

"Thank you for giving me forever, sweetheart."

Edited: check out the full version on ao3!

This is officially the end! I hope you enjoyed this little (long) bonus part. Thanks for reading! 💜💜💜

@gaysonthefloor @little-gae-shit @ineffablecolors @mojowitchcraft @hiscrimsonangel @thegingerrapunzel @adelicioustragedy @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @im-sam-fucking-winchester @rainydays35 @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @gay-stranger-things @sherilitchi @gezell-igg @leather-and-freckles @bornonthesavage @ramyayaya @awkwardgravity1 @chaoticvictorianspirit @thosemessyvibes @beeing-stuupid @silentiumdelirium @freyaforestafay @thatbitchgayasf @sapphirecobalt-1 @sahh-dude @adorkfromnewyork @ollie-in-gray @extralegobrick @snapshotmaestro

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@trainchomp @anaibis

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie notes #THE END #the last part #epilogue #note passing #first anniversary #steve writes to eddie in the hospital #adult steddie #proposal #they're dads #they have twins #max was their surrogate #fluff #domestic fluff #future steddie #steve makes eddie a scrapbook of their relationship #romance #happily ever after #the own the hideout #and steve is a middle school guidance counselor

[stevesbipanic]

Wayne always worked on holiday nights. If it was an important day he'd spend the day with Eddie before heading off to work. Christmas dinner was always Christmas lunch, Easter was a chocolate bar for breakfast, Thanksgiving was a turkey dinner half off at the dinner the next day, but new year's was just another day. Holiday pay kept them warm through the winter and that's what was important.

Eddie had never really cared for the day. Growing up his parents used the day as another excuse for a party filled with booze and needles and Eddie hiding in his room under the covers hoping no-one comes in. The only thing he liked were the fireworks, he could see the ones they set off in the park from a crack in his wall and he loved their big booms and bright colours, they helped distract him from the yelling downstairs.

Steve hated new year's eve. It was the only holiday his parents were home and it wasn't for Steve. They missed birthdays, Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, his own fucking graduation but every year without fail they'd swoop in and throw a new year's party with all their uptight guests. Steve had to stand around for an hour, being pulled around by his parents stuffed into a too stuff suit and smile through them lying about his life.

All of this changed on the last day of 1986.

The plant Wayne worked at was closed for an inspection on December 31st, the workers were sent home with a small holiday bonus.

Eddie woke up to his uncle whistling happily and the news that he wouldn't be alone this year.

Steve woke up to the opposite, a voicemail waiting for him down in the kitchen, the Harrington's weren't coming home this year.

As the clock struck midnight in 1986 three men sat together on the roof of a rundown trailer and watched the fireworks.

Wayne soon left the boys their privacy, happy to have both his kids here with him.

Steve held Eddie's hand as he watched the sparkling lights dance in the sky, he'd never been allowed out to watch them before.

Eddie, for once, didn't need the fireworks to keep him distracted from a broken family downstairs or another lonely night. The dazzling lights and loud booms were nothing compared to the bright smile on Steve's face or the steady beat of his heart.

"I think I was wrong, Stevie, '86 wasn't my year, but I've got a good feeling about '87"

"I think '87 is gonna be our year, Eds"

Eddie smiled and leant in slowly, a soft kiss shared between them.

"Yeah, our year, sweetheart."

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