madaboutmunson

[madaboutmunson]

Eddie Lacrosse Player

Steddie Bingo Prompt: Athlete @steddiebingo

For @mugloversonly 🤘thanks for the idea!

[madaboutmunson]

They are so frickin cute!!! Thank you so much for accepting my commission @waldos-art !

Drew these two cuties for @madaboutmunson!

[madaboutmunson]

Closing Time

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest’s Media Mayhem event | Prompt: ‘Closing Time’ | Rating: E 18+ SMUT MDNI NSFW | WC: 1000 | Relationship: Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington; Steddie | CW: Oral (m rec), mention of a fantasy involving chain, cum eating, spit as lube, fingering (m rec), ball play, handjob | Tags: getting together, Jeff's stellar wingmannery bears fruit | A/N: This is the smutty conclusion to these previous parts:

Pt 1: Have A Drink On Me | Pt 2: The Office

My masterlist

Eddie’s on him in seconds, shoving Steve towards the coffee-brown couch, cupping his face and devouring his mouth even as they stagger backwards. Steve’s grasping at everything he can reach, Eddie's shirt, his skin, that damned chain. Pausing at Eddie’s ass, Steve squeezes, hard, and Eddie whimpers.

Pulling back just slightly, Eddie’s eyes flit around Steve’s face, irises blown entirely black. Stunned and incredulous, he mumbles breathily,

“Fuck, Stevie. I've wanted this for so long.”

Steve groans, pulling Eddie back towards him and grinding his substantial bulge into Eddie’s crotch. Eddie reciprocates a little too hard, knocking Steve off-balance onto the cushions with a thump.

Momentarily, Eddie can't move, he just stares. Steve’s panting, hair messy, eyes glazed, lips swollen and shiny; he's a vision. Eddie's chest heaves as his gaze roves over Steve’s broad, hairy pecs and the swelling inside his lightwash jeans, mirroring Eddie’s that’s now uncomfortably confined within his tightest pair (sue him, he wanted to look sexy tonight). Swallowing, he mutters,

“Tell me what you want.”

Half-crazed, Steve stammers,

“T-take off your shirt.”

Eddie’s shirt can barely be called such anymore, and he quickly discards the scrappy fabric. Steve trakes his eyes over Eddie’s lithe, wiry form, dark tattoos brought into stark relief by the dim lamplight illuminating his alabaster skin. He raises a hand, rumbling,

“Shit, Ed, you're so crazy fuckin' hot… C’mere.”

Eddie complies instantly. Surprising him, Steve pulls him to the sofa, simultaneously rising and dropping between his thighs. He immediately starts working Eddie’s belt, Eddie groaning at a sight he thought he'd only ever see in his fantasies - Steve Harrington, kneeling in front of him, breathless and eager to get in his pants.

Freed from its confines, Eddie’s cock stands proud, hard and leaking. Steve's tongue flicks out, and he hums as he licks at his slit and swollen head, Eddie jerking in his seat with a broken,

“Aaah-haaaah!”

Wide-eyed and desperate, Eddie moves to free the denim trapped beneath his ass, but Steve stops him.

“No, leave it. I've been obsessed with this goddamn chain for years, it haunts my fuckin’ dreams.”

Eddie shivers, oblivious that he’d ever had this effect on anyone. Had he known, he would've worn dozens of the things…

He shudders as Steve takes him into his mouth. Eddie's sweaty from playing, but Steve revels in his musky scent and salty taste as his fat length slides over his tongue. He licks everywhere, memorising every ridge and vein, every noise Eddie makes above him. He realises he's never enjoyed having anyone's dick in his mouth quite this much.

He winds that goddamn chain around his hand, tugging it whilst swallowing Eddie as deep as he can, bobbing, moaning, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. He wants to practice, get Eddie deeper, have this chain wrapped around his wrists while Eddie—

His fantasy’s halted when Eddie howls suddenly, and without warning his pulsing cock spills his hot release into Steve’s waiting mouth. Steve splutters, drinks down what he can, a little dribbling down his chin.

Eddie releases his deathgrip on the upholstery, and mere moments later he's flipping Steve onto his back on the couch. Quickly removing Steve's jeans and boxers, he admires every inch of Steve, mumbling,

“Goddammit, these fuckin’ thighs!”

Eddie palms at Steve’s quads, then pushes his knees up and apart, spreading him. Pausing once more, he takes in Steve’s prone position, his impressive cock lying heavy against his belly, his pretty pink hole twitching under his hungry gaze. It's almost too much. Almost…

Eddie plunges two fingers into his own mouth, coating them generously with spit before probing gently at Steve's entrance. Steve’s trembling, grasping at the cushions as Eddie slips his middle finger inside. He moans at the intrusion, clamping down and sucking him in. Eddie sighs and lolls out his tongue, curving it so a glob of his saliva drips onto Steve’s hole. Steve gasps, and again as Eddie adds a second finger, crooking and pumping them. It's fast and dirty, but they've waited long enough.

Eddie moves his other hand to cup Steve’s balls, garnering him a breathy sigh. He tugs lightly, assessing what Steve likes, watching as his cock jumps on his stomach. He dips his head down and sucks one into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, bringing his other hand to wrap around Steve’s length, skilfully gliding up and down. Above him Steve groans, his thighs constricting around Eddie’s head. Eddie licks, sucks, switches sides, all the while working Steve with his talented musician's hands. It’s not long before Steve’s juddering, and as his balls tighten Eddie releases them and shifts so he’s leaning right over Steve’s dick, angling it away from his body. As Steve cums Eddie licks hungrily at his length and head, hot white streaks decorating his face as he sticks out his tongue, slurping at Steve's spend like it's the best popsicle he’s ever tasted.

Steve collapses, sated, boneless, and as Eddie regards his flushed, prone form he whispers, almost inaudibly,

“You’re fucking beautiful, Stevie.”

After resting a while they recover and dress. Terrified he’ll say too much – he does that sometimes – Eddie mumbles,

“I should probably go.”

“No, wait! Will you… come back to my apartment? It’s not fancy, but it has a clean sofa. And a bed.”

Steve smiles timidly, hoping Eddie’ll see the humour.

Eddie gapes, and Steve’s suddenly terrified that he's moving too fast – he does that sometimes…

“Shit, too much?”

Eddie scoffs, lovestruck and adoring.

“God, no! Of course I will. I’ve wanted you for so long I can’t believe I get to have you, that’s all. We've got a lot of time to make up for, sweetheart.”

Smiling and flushed they straighten their clothes, and Steve passes Eddie a bar towel, gesturing to where some of his cum is still ornamenting his skin. Steve reaches into his jeans, retrieving a jangling bunch of keys, and remarks, grinning,

“You gonna help me close up first?”

Pt. 1: Have A Drink On Me | Pt 2: The Office

Thanks so much for reading! 🖤🖤 Here endeth my contributions to the Media Mayhem event, thanks so much to @corrodedcoffinfest for organising it!! 🖤🖤

My masterlist

General taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @swiftievibez @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @steve-loves-eddie @justalotoffanfiction @gracieheartspedro

[madaboutmunson]

Moving away from his usual demonic, overtly sexual or grotesque album covers, Eddie Munson shocked the world with his latest.

When we asked the Metal Superstar why the change, he responded candidly, holding up the album cover, “This guy is not gonna corrupt your children’s ears, look at him. He’s a sweetie-pie.“

We asked if he was worried about parental backlash to his explicit lyrics, he shook his head with a grin.

“No, man. They aren’t gonna listen to it first. It’s just another tick on little Timmy and little Lisa’s Christmas list. As soon as album makes it back home, it’s sold. If they wanna buy them all and burn them, so what? They still gotta buy them, and it’s free publicity. They buy more, I print more. That my friend is commerce. Plus they’re all funding my very gay lifestyle, with my very sexy husband. So who’s the winner here? Me! As it should be!”

[madaboutmunson]

Now also on Ao3

Back Soon

☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️

Tried my hand at some Steddie hurt/comfort feat. Robin.

For @strangerthingswritersguild daily prompt: "Summer Storm"

Ao3 Link

☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️

Summary:

Eddie always leaves a note that says, “Back soon.” But love doesn’t mean much if it keeps walking out the door.

CW:

Emotional dysregulation, low self-worth, overwhelm, crying, self-deprecation, relationship conflict, swearing, reference to therapy, mention of emotional abuse, mild physical distress (rocking, face-palm), temporary relationship miscommunication.

W/C: 2268

☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️

Robin handed Steve a napkin to dry his tears, concern etched in her brow as she watched him hiccup through roughly wiping them away.

He hadn’t shed many. He never does. But the fact that they left red and swelling in their wake, around the rim of his eyes, the tracks down his cheeks. Like temporary wounds, she thought.

She loved Steve as much as you could love someone platonically. She had even grown to love his choice of boyfriend.

It was happening more often now, but each time Eddie’s disappearances grew shorter. But it was irrelevant. They always left Steve shaken. Even though he tried to hide it, the first few times.

“Steve,” she said carefully, gently placing her hand on his back, “Are you sure about this? I like Eddie, I do. I’ve never seen you happier. The people who have known you longer say the same. But he can’t keep upsetting you like this.”

“It’ll be okay, it’s just a nothing fight. Over…well…nothing. He didn’t say anything mean,” Steve defended him, even though he was clearly hurt.

“No, he just randomly disappears after something inconsequential. What happened this time?” 

“I put his cassette in the wrong cassette box, I think.”

“But don’t you always do that?”

“Yeah,” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

“But today was just the last straw?” Robin asked him like she didn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

Steve just shrugged. “I guess.”

“Where is he now? Grumbling to himself in the communal gardens like a complete lunatic?”

Steve frowned, “He’s not crazy. And no, he left again. Which, I wouldn’t mind if he’d tell me when he’s coming home or where he’s going. He always-”

Robin huffed to keep her temper, “-Leaves a little ‘Back soon’ note with a doodle on. Yes. I know. But it’s not right, Steve. I don't think he's …”

Steve’s finger got firmly pressed against her lips, “No. Don't you dare say that, ok? He’ll be back, he always comes back, and everything is alright again. You know, last time he came back with a keyring with my name on a grain of rice, and the time before that he came back with all the ingredients to make me steak and dauphinoise potatoes, and tickets to the game,” he added fondly.

She sighed in defeat. It made her mad how good they are together, and then he did stuff like this. It was verging on emotional abuse, and Steve could do better. But he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't hear it.

And Steve was absolutely right, he did come back home. He came back so quickly that Steve was still at her apartment. Eddie had called to find out where Steve was, because he wasn’t at home, and he was distressed that he had finally had enough and left him.

Steve had naturally ran home, probably taking several stairs at a time, heading up to their floor in the same building.

A few weeks later, she witnessed one of Eddie’s episodes for herself. Or rather, the start of one.

They’d all been sitting in the kitchen. Eddie at the stove, she at the small table, Steve sitting at the counter.

They had been grossly into one another all day. So much so, she almost left a few times. And the moment before it happened, they were making googly eyes at one another as Eddie lifted the spoon for Steve to taste test his homemade minestrone.

Steve said something about the future, where we’re all gonna move to, somewhere near the sea.  Eddie beamed at him, he looked so happy, and then turned back to the pot for maybe a few minutes, whilst Steve verbally designed their imaginary home.

“God, that’s such bullshit,” Eddie muttered, stirring harder than necessary, but Robin could feel the sharpness in his voice, “People act like thinking happy thoughts is gonna pay the rent.” 

“Babe, it’s imaginary. It’s just fun. Anyway,” Steve tried to move on quickly, ”Lenora at work said if you act like it’s already yours, it’s more likely to happen. So we should be more positive.”

Eddie’s mouth twisted, like he was about to snap. He turned the stove off a little too hard and took a breath through his nose.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Forget it. I just-” He’d already gone too far. And judging by the way he closed his eyes, he knew it, too.

“Babe, come on. It’s just a bit of fun.” Steve was already moving towards him because he also knew something was in motion.

Eddie’s apron was slammed down on the counter, and he was just about to stomp towards the door when he was stopped in his tracks.

“Absolutely fucking not!” Robin said firmly, grabbing hold of Eddie’s elbow.

Steve, in full panic mode, was calling her name, but she had her death glare meeting Eddie’s, venom for venom.

It was not easy doing that. Actually, it was terrifying. Steve was not going to back her, and she knew it, but this had to stop.

Then Eddie’s scowl faltered for a second.

“Steve,” she said without tearing her eyes away from Eddie, “Go to my apartment. I want to talk to him. Alone.”

Steve scoffed a laugh, but when no one else laughed with him, he protested, and when no one acknowledged him. He grabbed her keys and stormed out.

“Sit.” It was a command, not a request, and to her surprise, Eddie didn’t fight her. 

Eddie sat stiffly, his hands clenched in his lap. He looked anywhere but at her. At the mug, the stove, the chipped edge of the table. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he muttered, but his voice cracked halfway through. “Are you for real right now?” She laughed scornfully at his audacious reply, “I don’t want you to say anything, honestly. But I have to talk to you because I want you to stop upsetting my friend, but murder is illegal, and he for some stupid reason wants to stay with you” The jab lands, and somewhere inside her, despite how much she had grown to like Eddie, wants it too. Hard. There is panic in the eyes that raise to her, then he leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face, as his leg bounced. “Oh you’ve fucked it up now, Munson” he muttered to himself it seemed.

At first, she thought it was a grab for sympathy, and that threw a match into the gasoline of pent-up frustration she’s been holding onto.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you treating Steve like this? Hmm? You don’t see what you leave behind. You’re chip chip chipping away at him. But you're not making art, Eddie. You’re making a fucking mess!”

“I know. Don’t you think I know?” He said through gritted teeth, as he figetted with his rings, his eyes again avoiding her like the plague,  “I don’t mean to. I- I don’t even want to, I just can’t take it, you know? I- It’s so much. I’m so messed up. I can’t take it.”

Robin loomed over him, “Can’t take what, that you have a totally fantastic partner, that you don’t deserve, who worships the ground you walk on, who puts up with all your shit and never gives up on you, or lets you give up on yourself?”

“Yes!” Eddie yells out like it’s been eating him from the inside out, and Robin wasn’t expecting agreement.

The lack of understanding on her part and Eddie’s surprising lack of words to explain make him reach for the physical. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small worn box and slammed it on the table.

“It’s too much.” He whispered and pushed it towards her.

Robin carefully opened the box. Inside was a ring, a gold signet ring, it’s got their initials with a heart between them engraved on the inside.

“You keep getting mad at him, but you want to marry him?” Robin said confused.

“I’m not mad at Steve. I’m never mad at Steve. I’m mad at me because it’s too much. No,” he shakes his head, “Not too much. It’s so much I can’t take it. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve him. I can’t do this right. I’ll mess it all up.”

“You’re running away because he loves you so much? Do you hear yourself right now?” It was difficult to hold back the bite from her words. “You keep trying to protect him by shutting him out,” Robin said, months of built-up anger spilling over. “But all he sees is the door closing.”

Then he crumbled. He folded forward, head in his hands, audible sobbing, rocking and holding himself.

She isn’t sure what to make of the blubbering mess in front of her, and she didn’t really think he deserved space to explain, but Steve would want her to listen. So she asked, “You’re going to have to take a deep breath and explain more clearly because none of this makes any sense. You keep disappearing, it’s happening more and more. Can you imagine how that feels for him? Imagine it from his side of things. He thinks he’s done something wrong. He thinks you’re mad at him.”

“No! No,” Eddie punctuated his words, stabbing the table with his finger, “I’m mad at me. I never say anything to Steve. I’m not mad at him. I could never be.”

Robin stared at Eddie’s stunned face, wide-eyed and wet, like a toddler who’d just had his favorite toy ripped away.

“He thinks I’m mad at him? Oh god. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” He said, slapping his hand against his forehead.

“How could he not? He's the only other person in the place with you.”

“Robin, I love Steve. So fucking much. And that's the problem. Sometimes I feel it so hard, so enveloped by it, it’s everywhere and I think I’m gonna fuck this all up, and I just need to get away before I do. And then I feel awful because I don’t wanna be away from Steve. But it’s so intense for me. It’s like being suffocated by my own love for him, and then I feel like a fucking prize dickhead for feeling that way,” Eddie looks at her for understanding, “It’s like a heatwave that’s been going on for weeks and I just need it to rain, you know? Like, a huge summer storm. Like, my brain needs me to fall out of my perfect life and realise what an undeserving asshole I actually am, just so I can enjoy it again.” She stayed quiet the wound had opened so she sat back and watched the festering insides fall out. “I try so fucking hard not to let it get to me, but it’s like- like I feel too much. And then I shut down, and I think, better me than him. If I keep it in, if I go away for a bit, he won’t see how messed up I am. But he does. And I keep hurting him anyway.”

He dropped his hands, eyes red-rimmed, shoulders shaking. “He thinks I’m mad at him? Jesus. I’m not. I never am. I just- I get scared. Like if I don’t disappear for a second, I’m gonna ruin everything.” His eyes finally raise to hers, “Like I’m gonna ruin everything, before we even get a proper chance to get started.”

Robin searched his eyes, closed the box, and pushed it back to him. “You’ve got to stop this.”

“I will. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise Steve thought I was mad with him. I just thought if I tucked myself away with all my fucked up shit, Steve wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“Well he is. So fucking stop it! Learn how to live in the heat,” she said. “Or at least bring sunscreen next time. But you do not get to keep walking out on him and calling it love. A few moments to cool down elsewhere if you’re overwhelmed I can understand, but you have to explain it! It should be an agreement.”

“I will. I swear. If I’d known, I would never-“ he grovelled sincerely but she cut him off.

“Save this for Steve. Get a therapist. Work out your alone time to hate yourself without upsetting my friend. Or that,” she points at the tattered box, “Is not happening. Not on my watch.”

There is a nod of understanding between them.

“How long have you had that anyway?”

Eddie looked sheepish, before looking at the ceiling for help, “About three years.”

“Three years!” 

Eddie nodded, “I know. I’m a coward.”

“That’s the thing though, you aren’t are you? You’re just not being brave where it matters. Sort your shit out, Eddie. And go let Steve in.”

“Huh?” He said tucking the box away in his pocket.

“You think he went downstairs?” she tutted, wrinkling her nose. “He’s been listening at the door the whole time.” Robin sighed and put on her jacket.

Eddie got up to open the door to a blur that jumped into his arms, and once caught solidified into Steve.

“Don’t leave,” Steve said, squashing Eddie’s face between his hands.

“E whon. E sowwy” Eddie said through force puckered lips, which roughly translated as ‘I won’t. I’m sorry.”

Steve smiled at his best friend, overflowing with unspoken gratitude, and she nodded with a smile and a two finger salute.

“Wobin fuffin scawee,” followed by Steve’s laughter, was the last thing she heard as she closed the door behind her.

[madaboutmunson]

More Delulu:

What if the guitar solo isn’t just the trailer song, what if it’s not even Eddie, what if it’s Dustin, making Eddie’s guitar ring out all across Hawkins, Robin broadcasting on all channels through some kind of cerebro v2, Steve turning up the volume of the signal.

“Eddie, This is for you.”

[madaboutmunson]

Back Soon

☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️

Tried my hand at some Steddie hurt/comfort feat. Robin.

For @strangerthingswritersguild daily prompt: "Summer Storm"

Ao3 Link

☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️

Summary:

Eddie always leaves a note that says, “Back soon.” But love doesn’t mean much if it keeps walking out the door.

CW:

Emotional dysregulation, low self-worth, overwhelm, crying, self-deprecation, relationship conflict, swearing, reference to therapy, mention of emotional abuse, mild physical distress (rocking, face-palm), temporary relationship miscommunication.

W/C: 2268

☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️⛈️☀️

Robin handed Steve a napkin to dry his tears, concern etched in her brow as she watched him hiccup through roughly wiping them away.

He hadn’t shed many. He never does. But the fact that they left red and swelling in their wake, around the rim of his eyes, the tracks down his cheeks. Like temporary wounds, she thought.

She loved Steve as much as you could love someone platonically. She had even grown to love his choice of boyfriend.

It was happening more often now, but each time Eddie’s disappearances grew shorter. But it was irrelevant. They always left Steve shaken. Even though he tried to hide it, the first few times.

“Steve,” she said carefully, gently placing her hand on his back, “Are you sure about this? I like Eddie, I do. I��ve never seen you happier. The people who have known you longer say the same. But he can’t keep upsetting you like this.”

“It’ll be okay, it’s just a nothing fight. Over…well…nothing. He didn’t say anything mean,” Steve defended him, even though he was clearly hurt.

“No, he just randomly disappears after something inconsequential. What happened this time?” 

“I put his cassette in the wrong cassette box, I think.”

“But don’t you always do that?”

“Yeah,” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

“But today was just the last straw?” Robin asked him like she didn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

Steve just shrugged. “I guess.”

“Where is he now? Grumbling to himself in the communal gardens like a complete lunatic?”

Steve frowned, “He’s not crazy. And no, he left again. Which, I wouldn’t mind if he’d tell me when he’s coming home or where he’s going. He always-”

Robin huffed to keep her temper, “-Leaves a little ‘Back soon’ note with a doodle on. Yes. I know. But it’s not right, Steve. I don't think he's …”

Steve’s finger got firmly pressed against her lips, “No. Don't you dare say that, ok? He’ll be back, he always comes back, and everything is alright again. You know, last time he came back with a keyring with my name on a grain of rice, and the time before that he came back with all the ingredients to make me steak and dauphinoise potatoes, and tickets to the game,” he added fondly.

She sighed in defeat. It made her mad how good they are together, and then he did stuff like this. It was verging on emotional abuse, and Steve could do better. But he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't hear it.

And Steve was absolutely right, he did come back home. He came back so quickly that Steve was still at her apartment. Eddie had called to find out where Steve was, because he wasn’t at home, and he was distressed that he had finally had enough and left him.

Steve had naturally ran home, probably taking several stairs at a time, heading up to their floor in the same building.

A few weeks later, she witnessed one of Eddie’s episodes for herself. Or rather, the start of one.

They’d all been sitting in the kitchen. Eddie at the stove, she at the small table, Steve sitting at the counter.

They had been grossly into one another all day. So much so, she almost left a few times. And the moment before it happened, they were making googly eyes at one another as Eddie lifted the spoon for Steve to taste test his homemade minestrone.

Steve said something about the future, where we’re all gonna move to, somewhere near the sea.  Eddie beamed at him, he looked so happy, and then turned back to the pot for maybe a few minutes, whilst Steve verbally designed their imaginary home.

“God, that’s such bullshit,” Eddie muttered, stirring harder than necessary, but Robin could feel the sharpness in his voice, “People act like thinking happy thoughts is gonna pay the rent.” 

“Babe, it’s imaginary. It’s just fun. Anyway,” Steve tried to move on quickly, ”Lenora at work said if you act like it’s already yours, it’s more likely to happen. So we should be more positive.”

Eddie’s mouth twisted, like he was about to snap. He turned the stove off a little too hard and took a breath through his nose.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Forget it. I just-” He’d already gone too far. And judging by the way he closed his eyes, he knew it, too.

“Babe, come on. It’s just a bit of fun.” Steve was already moving towards him because he also knew something was in motion.

Eddie’s apron was slammed down on the counter, and he was just about to stomp towards the door when he was stopped in his tracks.

“Absolutely fucking not!” Robin said firmly, grabbing hold of Eddie’s elbow.

Steve, in full panic mode, was calling her name, but she had her death glare meeting Eddie’s, venom for venom.

It was not easy doing that. Actually, it was terrifying. Steve was not going to back her, and she knew it, but this had to stop.

Then Eddie’s scowl faltered for a second.

“Steve,” she said without tearing her eyes away from Eddie, “Go to my apartment. I want to talk to him. Alone.”

Steve scoffed a laugh, but when no one else laughed with him, he protested, and when no one acknowledged him. He grabbed her keys and stormed out.

“Sit.” It was a command, not a request, and to her surprise, Eddie didn’t fight her. 

Eddie sat stiffly, his hands clenched in his lap. He looked anywhere but at her. At the mug, the stove, the chipped edge of the table. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he muttered, but his voice cracked halfway through. “Are you for real right now?” She laughed scornfully at his audacious reply, “I don’t want you to say anything, honestly. But I have to talk to you because I want you to stop upsetting my friend, but murder is illegal, and he for some stupid reason wants to stay with you” The jab lands, and somewhere inside her, despite how much she had grown to like Eddie, wants it too. Hard. There is panic in the eyes that raise to her, then he leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face, as his leg bounced. “Oh you’ve fucked it up now, Munson” he muttered to himself it seemed.

At first, she thought it was a grab for sympathy, and that threw a match into the gasoline of pent-up frustration she’s been holding onto.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you treating Steve like this? Hmm? You don’t see what you leave behind. You’re chip chip chipping away at him. But you're not making art, Eddie. You’re making a fucking mess!”

“I know. Don’t you think I know?” He said through gritted teeth, as he figetted with his rings, his eyes again avoiding her like the plague,  “I don’t mean to. I- I don’t even want to, I just can’t take it, you know? I- It’s so much. I’m so messed up. I can’t take it.”

Robin loomed over him, “Can’t take what, that you have a totally fantastic partner, that you don’t deserve, who worships the ground you walk on, who puts up with all your shit and never gives up on you, or lets you give up on yourself?”

“Yes!” Eddie yells out like it’s been eating him from the inside out, and Robin wasn’t expecting agreement.

The lack of understanding on her part and Eddie’s surprising lack of words to explain make him reach for the physical. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small worn box and slammed it on the table.

“It’s too much.” He whispered and pushed it towards her.

Robin carefully opened the box. Inside was a ring, a gold signet ring, it’s got their initials with a heart between them engraved on the inside.

“You keep getting mad at him, but you want to marry him?” Robin said confused.

“I’m not mad at Steve. I’m never mad at Steve. I’m mad at me because it’s too much. No,” he shakes his head, “Not too much. It’s so much I can’t take it. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve him. I can’t do this right. I’ll mess it all up.”

“You’re running away because he loves you so much? Do you hear yourself right now?” It was difficult to hold back the bite from her words. “You keep trying to protect him by shutting him out,” Robin said, months of built-up anger spilling over. “But all he sees is the door closing.”

Then he crumbled. He folded forward, head in his hands, audible sobbing, rocking and holding himself.

She isn’t sure what to make of the blubbering mess in front of her, and she didn’t really think he deserved space to explain, but Steve would want her to listen. So she asked, “You’re going to have to take a deep breath and explain more clearly because none of this makes any sense. You keep disappearing, it’s happening more and more. Can you imagine how that feels for him? Imagine it from his side of things. He thinks he’s done something wrong. He thinks you’re mad at him.”

“No! No,” Eddie punctuated his words, stabbing the table with his finger, “I’m mad at me. I never say anything to Steve. I’m not mad at him. I could never be.”

Robin stared at Eddie’s stunned face, wide-eyed and wet, like a toddler who’d just had his favorite toy ripped away.

“He thinks I’m mad at him? Oh god. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” He said, slapping his hand against his forehead.

“How could he not? He's the only other person in the place with you.”

“Robin, I love Steve. So fucking much. And that's the problem. Sometimes I feel it so hard, so enveloped by it, it’s everywhere and I think I’m gonna fuck this all up, and I just need to get away before I do. And then I feel awful because I don’t wanna be away from Steve. But it’s so intense for me. It’s like being suffocated by my own love for him, and then I feel like a fucking prize dickhead for feeling that way,” Eddie looks at her for understanding, “It’s like a heatwave that’s been going on for weeks and I just need it to rain, you know? Like, a huge summer storm. Like, my brain needs me to fall out of my perfect life and realise what an undeserving asshole I actually am, just so I can enjoy it again.” She stayed quiet the wound had opened so she sat back and watched the festering insides fall out. “I try so fucking hard not to let it get to me, but it’s like- like I feel too much. And then I shut down, and I think, better me than him. If I keep it in, if I go away for a bit, he won’t see how messed up I am. But he does. And I keep hurting him anyway.”

He dropped his hands, eyes red-rimmed, shoulders shaking. “He thinks I’m mad at him? Jesus. I’m not. I never am. I just- I get scared. Like if I don’t disappear for a second, I’m gonna ruin everything.” His eyes finally raise to hers, “Like I’m gonna ruin everything, before we even get a proper chance to get started.”

Robin searched his eyes, closed the box, and pushed it back to him. “You’ve got to stop this.”

“I will. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise Steve thought I was mad with him. I just thought if I tucked myself away with all my fucked up shit, Steve wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“Well he is. So fucking stop it! Learn how to live in the heat,” she said. “Or at least bring sunscreen next time. But you do not get to keep walking out on him and calling it love. A few moments to cool down elsewhere if you’re overwhelmed I can understand, but you have to explain it! It should be an agreement.”

“I will. I swear. If I’d known, I would never-“ he grovelled sincerely but she cut him off.

“Save this for Steve. Get a therapist. Work out your alone time to hate yourself without upsetting my friend. Or that,” she points at the tattered box, “Is not happening. Not on my watch.”

There is a nod of understanding between them.

“How long have you had that anyway?”

Eddie looked sheepish, before looking at the ceiling for help, “About three years.”

“Three years!” 

Eddie nodded, “I know. I’m a coward.”

“That’s the thing though, you aren’t are you? You’re just not being brave where it matters. Sort your shit out, Eddie. And go let Steve in.”

“Huh?” He said tucking the box away in his pocket.

“You think he went downstairs?” she tutted, wrinkling her nose. “He’s been listening at the door the whole time.” Robin sighed and put on her jacket.

Eddie got up to open the door to a blur that jumped into his arms, and once caught solidified into Steve.

“Don’t leave,” Steve said, squashing Eddie’s face between his hands.

“E whon. E sowwy” Eddie said through force puckered lips, which roughly translated as ‘I won’t. I’m sorry.”

Steve smiled at his best friend, overflowing with unspoken gratitude, and she nodded with a smile and a two finger salute.

“Wobin fuffin scawee,” followed by Steve’s laughter, was the last thing she heard as she closed the door behind her.

[madaboutmunson]

you know what take these memes too it is pride month after all

[madaboutmunson]

wiggly wednesday 🪱

Okay sure, this sounds fun. I was tagged by @medusapelagia to share a brainworm/headcanon, and I've been trying to get one to develop more fully so here we go.

Today, I'm thinking about...

Steve and Eddie going through some of Eddie's old things as they pack up to move into their own place. Nancy and Robin are there to help even though that mostly consists of Robin picking through already-packed boxes because she keeps getting distracted by all of the things she finds.

Steve finds what looks to be a really old photo album, the sticky pages holding the photos down yellow with age.

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, taking it from him to flip through. "I haven't seen this in ages. I was sure it was lost when all the shit went down."

"Oh my god, please tell me there's embarrassing baby pictures of you in there," Robin grins, trying to snatch it away.

Eddie holds it out of reach, nearly throwing it as Robin tries to tackle him for it.

"Jesus Christ! I'll show you, just keep your insane paws to yourself!" Eddie gripes.

Steve scoots in closer while Robin and Nancy crowd in on his other side, all wanting a closer look.

There's not many pictures in it and most are grainy and out of focus, black and white and hard to distinguish. But there's a few of a baby with an unmistakeable crop of riotous curls.

"Holy shit, you were so cute," Steve coos, running a finger along the 2D cheek of one photo.

"Excuse you, Harrington, but I'm still cute," Eddie snarks, flipping to the next page.

There's one photo of a young man holding baby Eddie, dark curls so similar to his own atop his head. The photo looks to have been torn down the middle, the right side pressed right against baby Eddie's back, like whoever was on the other side was better left out of the picture long term.

"Huh," Steve hums. "It never occurred to me that I had no idea what your dad looks like."

"And for good reason, babe," Eddie says, fighting not to rip the photo out and burn it. "Thankfully all I got from him was his hair and penchant for hot wiring. Everything else I got from my mom I guess."

"You guess?" Nancy asks.

Eddie nods. "She died when I was a baby and the old man kind of went off the rails after. I suspect this—" he runs a finger along the jagged edge of the photo in the book, "is his handy work."

"That's a shame," Steve says softly. He lifts the plastic covering the photo and peels it off the sticky backing, holding it up to his face to get a closer look — his eye sight is pretty back after so many concussions after all.

"Ya know, if his hair was a little longer, like mullet style, he'd almost look like a dark-haired Billy Hargrove," Steve points out.

Robin snatches the photo out of his hand, holding it out stretched like she can see it better that way instead. "Oh, shit. You're right. That's so weird."

Eddie snatches it back, top lip curled in disgust. "I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but how fucking dare you in any way compare my gorgeous existence to that guy."

Steve snickers and presses a kiss to Eddie's cheek. "I'm sorry, babe. You're right."

The photo gets tucked back into its place and they keep flipping through the book. There's more of Eddie as an infant, a few more of his dad, even a couple of a young Wayne in his military uniform holding a toddler Eddie by his arms as he jumps up, legs gangly and wild. Any photo that might have contained Eddie's mom is ripped, none of them cleanly, and there's only the occasional hand or blur of dark hair. Even still, it does stop happening once Eddie's about six months old.

"Wow. So you really don't know what your mom looks like?" Nancy asks finally as they're setting the photo album in a box.

"Oh no I do," Eddie says. "I have one singular picture of her from right after I was born. Wayne saved it for me."

"Oooooo can we see?" Robin pipes in. Eddie shrugs, getting up to dig through a shoebox that Steve's seen before but somehow managed to avoid snooping through — not that he didn't think about it all the time for the last year they've been together.

He comes back with a photo, plopping back into his spot while his friends and boyfriend crowd around him once more.

It's dead silent for several minutes, all of them staring at the picture. Eddie always figured his uncle was on to something when he said Eddie looked more like his mom, but now that he's about her age when this photo was taken, he thinks he can really see it.

On his left, Steve is trying to process exactly what he's looking at. Sure, the woman in the photo looks like she has the same dark hair that Eddie does, though it's a lot less curly, but aside from the hair and the tired look on her face, she could be a dead ringer for —

"Either Mrs. Wheeler has a doppleganger, or a secret twin we don't know about," he says.

He glances at Robin for a second before looking at Eddie and Nancy. They're heads are bowed over the photo, wearing matching expressions of wide-eyed shock.

Wait.

Matching.

Oh shit.

"Eddie," Robin says carefully. "What's your mom's name?"

His jaw opens and closes a few times before he croaks out, "Elizabeth, but Wayne said she only ever went by—"

"Her middle name?" Nancy asks, the fear of knowing the answer obvious in the wobble of her voice.

Eddie flips the photo over to look at the names and date written on the back. He's looked at it a million times, tracing her loopy handwriting so much over the years that it's slightly smudged, but still legible.

Karen Elizabeth Harvey + Edward Wayne Munson, November 1965

"Oh shit."

——————————————

no-pressure tags if anyone also wants to share a brainworm: @tedewitt @hornedqueenofhell @malikat24601 @spectrum-spectre

[madaboutmunson]

writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

[madaboutmunson]

Too Hot To Handle

Written for the @steddiemicrofic June prompt ‘hot’ | WC: 315 | Rating: T | CW: Mentions of food/eating and drinks/drinking, minor personal injury | POV: Eddie | Tags: Pre-Steddie, awkwardness, fluff

September 

“It's gonna be hot next week, let's go to the lake before autumn!”

Steve's nodding, and Eddie agrees with Robin, but all he can consider is how much of a golden opportunity this is. He mumbles,

“You kn–”

“C’mon, dingus, vamoose. These tapes don't rewind themselves!”

Okay, not this time. But definitely soon…

October 

“I'm too hot, boiling alive, I swear…”

Steve's pirate costume is indeed mainly artificial fibres, but Eddie ponders using this to his advantage.

“You know wha–”

“C’mon, hustle up! We're gonna miss all the good candy!”

Eddie mumbles how he's gonna kill Dustin one day…

November 

“Shit! That's really fuckin’ hot!”

Celebrating Friendsgiving, Steve drops the cast-iron dish of potatoes. Is this finally Eddie's opportunity to reveal his feelings?

“You know what el–?”

“Get it under the tap! Shit, please don't need the ER…”

This time, Eddie's cut off by Nancy offering first aid. Annoying sure, but, y'know, fair…

December 

Eddie buys Steve mulled wine as the gang browse Hawkins’ Christmas market, claiming socially-sanctioned booze is the only way to tolerate the tacky commercialism.

“Fuck, I burnt my mouth. Why’s it lava-hot??”

“You know what else is–?”

“Yay, carols!! Let's join in!”

Eddie adores how El’s embraced every holiday tradition, but seriously??

January

Eddie's ready to give up. The universe obviously doesn't want him flirting with Steve, or thinks his technique’s appalling. But what else can he try?

Steve's making hot chocolate in his kitchen, and for once it's just the two of them. He pours, takes a sip.

“Fuck! Too hot! Almost burned my tongue off, jeez.”

Eddie blurts out, quick, pitchy and way too loud,

“You know what else is hot?!”

Thrilled, he almost misses how Steve turns, intrigued, simultaneously trying to cool his mouth.

“I'm thorry, whath?”

Eddie snorts, looking coyly at Steve, pulling hair over his pinking cheeks as he finally gets to say,

“Uhh… You…”

Thanks so much for reading! ☕️

Taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @katethetank @justalotoffanfiction

[madaboutmunson]

STWG Prompt: Nurse

(TW for some suicidal ideation in this one!)

Steve stood in the doorway of his house and stared at the floor, blood rushing in his ears. His clothes were ruined, but he didn’t care much, not when he was planning on burning them the next chance he got.

A gasp was knocked from his aching chest at the thought of fire. He could still feel the heat of the flames, the flames that had consumed the mall before their eyes. He could still see men in uniforms rushing in with containers of accelerants, could smell burning flesh and gas and his own blood, could smell it through his profoundly broken nose and-

And Hopper had been left down there. They hadn’t even tried to recover a body, according to what he’d overheard Ms. Byers saying to Nancy and Jonathan.

Hopper had been down there just like he had, but no one had rescued him, he didn’t have Erica and Dustin coming to save him. Hopper hadn’t liked Steve, but he didn’t deserve to die like that, no one did.

Steve let go of the door frame and took a step. Then another. Then another as the door swung closed behind him. He didn’t have the strength to turn and lock it. He looked at the stairs and then down at his body. Could he drag himself up the stairs to bed? Maybe he could claw his way up and take a nap in the hall, stretch out on the floor and let himself be lulled to sleep by soft carpet.

Something clicked painfully in his hip and reminded him of lying on the blissfully cold concrete and being kicked. He didn’t know if bones bruised, but his hip felt bruised down to the marrow. The stairs weren’t an option.

He looked towards the hall off the kitchen, wondered if lying on the tile would do him some good. His head throbbed as he tried to remember how many steps it was to the bathroom, he’d liked counting his steps as a kid, still did it subconsciously sometimes.

But thinking was making everything hurt more and he was cold. He shivered under the air conditioning and let his eyes drag to the couch. There was a blanket draped over the back and the beige carpeting looked so soft, more comfortable than the couch. That was only four steps, he could manage four.

Step. Step. Step. One more step.

Steve’s knees hit the ground first and the rest of his body followed gracelessly. He’d scraped up his knees and palms at some point, he hazily remembered tripping on the pavement while leaving the mall parking lot.

He remembered counting the kids. Will holding his mom, Dustin being dropped off by an SUV with dark tinted windows and running to his mom. Lucas and Erica being scolded by their teary eyed parents who kept reaching out to grab their shoulders like they might not be real. El tucking herself against Max while Max’s mom fretted and her stepdad argued with someone while the fire burned behind them. Mike’s eyes flitting between El and Will as Karen fussed over his and Nancy’s bruising. Robin had been swept away from him in the chaos, but he caught a glimpse of her between her parents as they asked questions that he knew she couldn’t answer. He’d made brief eye contact with Jonathan who had been sitting in the back of one of the ambulances, and then he’d turned and hurried away. That’s when he’d tripped.

But no one had noticed him sneaking away, no one but maybe Jonathan. He was sure the suits would catch up with him before too long, he’d seen too much, had heard too much, they’d want him silent.

And part of him wished they’d just take him out quietly while he slept. He stretched out his stiff, aching body and reached up for the blanket. A whimper tore out of his mouth as his broken fingers wrapped around the edge and it took every last shred of strength left in his body to pull it down over himself.

The floor wasn’t as comfortable as he’d hoped, but he wasn’t standing anymore. It had taken the rest of the dark hours of the morning to get home and the sun was starting to peek up over the horizon. The light hurt his eyes, so he closed them. He’d get some rest and clean himself up when he woke up. He was going to be fine, he’d nursed himself back to health before. This time was no different.

[madaboutmunson]

⚡

Please :)

:)

--

“No bats,” he says, confirming it for himself as well as Eddie. “Nothing alive. Not yet.” The murmurating dust is clearer from here. It’s both intimidating and kind of nice, swirling upon itself. 

Eddie is also looking at the sky when Steve turns back to him. 

“Don’t ever fucking run off like that again, Harrington. Got it?” He says it flatly, more of his attention on what’s overhead. 

“I’ll admit,” Eddie continues, not waiting for a response. “That doesn’t look like it’s under anyone’s thrall. Do you think it’s alive?”

“Maybe.”

Eddie sits right down in the dirt, knees up, and leans back on his hands. He keeps watching the dust as he speaks. Observing the world, Steve supposes. Trying to find the next best move for their little party of two.

[madaboutmunson]

WIP Weekend

Weekly WIP update

Chapter 3 of Kiss the Cook is done and dusted. The part I'm writing rn will be so much fun!! ❤️

The pirate fic is done and will be setting sails later today (Friday). Next on my list is hcapter 2 of Into Battle, and then I've been thinking of continuing Neverland.

Also, the round 2 cards for the Steddie Bingo are finally here, so I have plenty of new prompts to keep me busy! 💪🏻

Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project.

🍽️ Kiss the Cook 🥊 Into Battle, chapter 2 🎲 Steddie Bingo Snippet from 🎲 (CW: explicit sexual content; D/S dynamics)

Silence settles over the room, only disturbed by the low hum of the toy buzzing against Eddie’s prostate. Steve lets it linger, just long enough for the warm coil of arousal in Eddie’s belly to settle back in. Just long enough for the dull, painful tingle in his knees to start bothering him again, now that there's nothing to distract himself. Just long enough for him to start wondering if he should answer the question. 

Then again, Steve was pretty clear in his instructions.

Kneel. 

Head down. 

Don't make a sound.

It's a bit strange. For all that Steve loves to test Eddie’s patience when their positions are reversed - always wiggling and whining and pleading at him with those big, wet eyes of his - he has no tolerance for disobedience when he's the one calling the shots, not even on a good day. 

And today is not a good day. Today, Steve is pissed. 

[madaboutmunson]

👻 please

of course!

From Fuggi Regal Fantasima:

Finally, Steve snapped back to attention, turning to him with tightly pinched brows. “Wait—you can’t see her?” “No?” He admitted, tentatively. “Not like, really.” “What do you mean, not really?”

[madaboutmunson]

Ooooh Big bang please :) 🦇

Have BB Words!

“You know him?” Eddie gave himself a mental shake and glanced over to where Dustin stood watching him curiously. “Yeah.”  Eddie licked his lips and nodded, turning his attention back to Steve.  “I do.”

[madaboutmunson]

|||👤||||||👤||||||👤|||

Chrissy spun on her heel, stomped her feet, and clapped a rhythm. Eddie nodded slowly, then swung the guitar around and started strumming Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by AC/DC, and it was clean and quiet without being plugged in, and he was playing it a little faster than the original, but a huge smile spread across Chrissy’s face.

“Let me get you a drummer,” 

She vanished back into the changing room, and seconds later Eddie was nearly trampled by a stream of cheerleaders rushing out like a white, orange and green cavalry.

Moments later, he was shoved into the corner of the gym next to someone’s bewildered, trucker-cap-wearing uncle on drums. A crackly amp was hauled out from the music department, smelling faintly of mildew and bad decisions, and Eddie threw himself into the intro. The whole of the room snapped their heads to him as the intro guitar riff rang out through the shitty amplifier, they’d found in the music department. The head nodding started in the crowd, then people were on their feet, but all of that was lost in the vignette edge of when Chrissy would turn and smile at him. It felt like Cupid had hit him with a rocket launcher full of rainbows and glitter. After the competition was over, which they naturally won, she caught up with him in the hallway, as he was attempting to kick a free soda out of the vending machine.

“You know,” she said, swaying and smiling up at him sweetly, “people pay real money for backup musicians. Like... actual money.”

And from that moment on, he’d been her guy. Cut his hair, traded his band t-shirts for Henleys and button-downs, his wash-and-go lifestyle had become a twice-a-day skin care routine. His wake-and-bake Sunday mornings became front-pew church attendance with Chrissy by his side, wearing matching chastity promise rings, singing out hymns and trying not to gaze at one another too much.  He still played metal and rock, but also learned more mainstream songs. She had opened his eyes to a world of possibilities. Chrissy had plans. Mothra-sized ones, and they were drawn out to the letter.