#rock god!Eddie Munson

[mrsjellymunson]

🎩 Top & Tail 🎩

Written for the @steddiemicrofic May prompt ‘top’. WC: 510. Rating: M. CW: Mentions of arousal, swearing, passing allusions to BDSM. Tags: Rock god!Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington realises he has a crush on Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington’s bisexual awakening.

On a day trip to Indie, Robin persuades the gang to visit her favourite curiosity shop.

Browsing, Eddie spies a vintage silk top hat, immediately gravitating towards it.

It costs way more than what Eddie’s got in his pockets, but when is he ever able to resist a cool and quirky trinket?

Sensible Steve says it’s stupid, expensive, when will he ever wear it, blahblahblah. Points out the threadbare fabric, absent ribbon, like what’s even the point, dude?

To everyone else’s delight, Eddie’s prancing around the store, kicking his feet and waggling the hat, singing Willkommen from Cabaret.

Stopping by an ornate mirror, he plonks it on his head, checking the fit.

As he plays with angles and positions, Steve freezes mid-sentence. Observes how it fits perfectly. How the worn, black, silky finish compliments Eddie’s pale skin and accentuates the new ink on his collarbones that’s already framed beautifully by his ripped neckline. How it pushes his bangs a little further over his eyes, and how that somehow makes his stare even more intense, domineering.

Steve swallows hard. Feels his dick stir. Decides against any further words of discouragement.

Robins gushes, “Ohmygoddd, you look sooooo cooooool!”

Jonathan and Argyle agree. Even Nancy says she likes it.

Eddie grins wider than Steve’s ever seen, emptying his pockets and mumbling something about foregoing lunch for a month. The others chip in change, ones and fives, and the storekeeper even knocks off a few bucks for Eddie’s enthusiasm.

Steve proffers a crumpled twenty, ignoring the others’ reactions as he ticks up a half smile and nods at Eddie’s quiet, “Dude, are you sure?”

He mumbles assent, adding, “Man, even if I think it’s a waste o’money, sometimes there’s things you’ve just gotta have. Right?”

Two weeks later, the gang are at The Hideout to watch Corroded Coffin perform.

Eddie’s in his element, at his manic best as he strides onto the stage, and Steve freezes again. Eddie’s wearing his usual skintight jeans, studded jewellery, many-buckled platform boots. But tonight he’s added a black tailcoat adorned with pins and chains. No shirt. And that damned hat. There’s studded leather where the ribbon should be, and the embellishments and silk fabric shimmer under the spotlights. The ensemble has a mildly unsettling vintage charm, and the effect is stunning, garnering whoops and hollers from the crowd.

Eddie struts around like it was made for him. And when he gets too hot on stage, does he take it off? No. The bastard goes and removes his damned jacket instead…

The rest of the group are swaying, bopping their heads. Jonathan and Argyle are even having an air guitar contest.

But Steve can’t move. He’s transfixed by the movements of Eddie’s half-naked body, his ink dancing, sweat glistening on his ivory skin, his commanding presence. And the way that damned hat makes him look like a fucking ringmaster.

Another image crosses Steve’s mind.

He just needs the whip…

And Steve realises, in one earth-shattering moment, that Eddie’s already the master of him.

Things you’ve just gotta have, indeed…

Thanks so much for reading!

If you liked this you can check out more Steddie ficlets on my masterlist

Tagging the usual suspects: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[xoxoladyaz]

Fem!Steddie AU where Eddie and the band burst onto the scene as an out and proud indie rock band a la The Last Dinner Party and Stevie Harrington - this world’s Taylor Swift - shortly comes out as bi and openly flirts/posts thirst traps to Eddie’s bands’ music and Eddie is having to eat her words about mainstream pop and then Eddie’s band opens for Stevie and its love at first sight and they get married SO FAST and live happily and musically ever after

[courtingchaos]

I’m just here as your friendly neighborhood podcast listener and current layabout with not much going on.

I’ve seen a few things about Eddie and the community turning on him quickly. I think a lot of things people aren’t remembering or realizing is just how prevalent the satanic panic was, and is, in the US.

Now there’s no chance that everyone in Hawkins hated Eddie and believed the satanic stuff. I mean, look at everyone in Hellfire. I guarantee parents were wary at first but then Eddie shows up like a goofball or has a string of ma’am’s and sir’s and they realize he’s just a kid with a lot attached to his name from a lot of terrible circumstances.

Anyways. A good thing to listen to is the You’re Wrong About podcast. Specifically these episodes.

Very first one of the podcast:

And then these two both have multiple parts to them, the first one is actually about the book that kind of jumpstarted the whole panic to begin with.

This also has multiple parts. This one is about someone getting seduced by a ‘satanic cult’.

These would have been books that while not everyone would have had one in their home, anyone who was devout or at the least religious, would have bought or read their own copy.

Basically all I’m getting at is that Eddie would have had a lot going against him. I know that a lot of people didn’t want to read Flight of Icarus but Eddie’s character is built on a very shaky foundation. The town dogpiling when the ‘Queen Bee’ gets killed, especially if they’ve already decided that he is a satanist? It was only a matter of time.

[hawkingsbarkins]

Date unknown, summer of 84

“Hell yeah”

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

Maybe it’s just me but I feel like Eddie definitely had a pirate phase when he was a kid. Like he watched a bunch of old pirate movies and became obsessed. Wayne actually had to console him when he found out it wasn’t a viable career option.

[munsonfamilyband]

So this is the map I'm currently using for my Different Meeting fic. In one of the upcoming parts, Steve talks about biking to the trailer park and then back to Rick's house so the path he's going to take is through the woods around Lake Jordan and then along the train tracks and over through the woods to the lake (he is aware that the bike is impractical, but it is less conspicuous than his car so he's biking)

I found this map on the stranger things subreddit from user braiko8, so I wanted to give them credit for the map

[dornish-queen]

EDDIE MUNSON LIVES 🤘🏻

[ryan-waddell11]

the way I fucking SCREAMED

[thetattykitty]

The Green Room

Part I-The Banshee

Summary: In 1983 (before the national legal drinking age was raised to 21) Eddie and his band score a gig at a more popular bar in one of the larger hub cities near Hawkins, on a Saturday night, no less. Just as they begin setting up, a more unique patron stands out from the crowd, catching his attention. Luckily for Eddie, he rolled a high charisma check.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Just some sexual tension and fantasy. Slow build. Marijuana, drinking, characters all over 18. Pet names. Punk character.

——————————————————

“Hooooly mother of Ozz…” Eddie said quietly, piquing the interest of his other band mates. They didn’t have to glance around long before their eyes had immediately settled on what definitely got Eddie’s attention. The most wildly gorgeous punk goddess they had ever laid eyes upon had come confidently strutting through the front doors of the generously packed bar, scanning the room in bored curiosity as she smacked a pack of cigarettes into her palm. She pulled one out with her teeth, and as she moved the hem of her leather jacket to place the pack into her back pocket, she met Eddie’s gaze for a brief moment before taking a lighter to the end of her cigarette, her heavy rings sparkling in the flame.

“Wheeere on God’s green earth did you come from, sweetheart?” he wondered aloud in an almost singsong tone. He watched transfixed as she shook her wild spiked hair from her face on the exhale. It was teased to stand up and outward, almost floating as if permanently blown away from her face during a roller coaster ride, reminding Eddie a bit of Souixie Sue or Joan Jett. The girl held her cigarette in her mouth as she slipped the leather jacket off her slender shoulders and onto the back of the chair she found available at the bar, revealing a shredded T-shirt safety pinned together laying atop a striped long sleeved tee. His eyes widened with excitement as he took in her attire: a Sex Pistols tee with the portrait of the Queen, her eyes and mouth taped over with the band’s logo. She was wearing a buckled leather choker with a chain attached to one of the safety pins at the tattered collar of the shirt. Her ripped, black skinny jeans were tight enough to sit comfortably at her waist alone, but was adorned with a Sid Vicious bondage belt anyway, hanging lopsided across her hips.

Eddie swallowed and quickly turned away as she looked his way again, not wanting to get caught staring for too long. He gaped at his band mates with wide eyes and jaw hanging open, and they similarly were also too stunned to speak. It was Eddie who broke the silence though, as he pursed his lips into a half smile and raised his eyebrows in an urgent expression.

“Dibs!” he exclaimed, to the groans and jeers of his friends.

“Dude, what!? No fucking way, I saw her first,” Gareth, the drummer of Corroded Coffin argued. All three of the other members had thrown their hands out in disbelief and resentment.

“But I,” Eddie retorted, pointing a ring clad finger in his friend’s direction, “claimed dibs first.” He grinned at them all as they scowled back at him, cursing him as they turned back to resume their sound check. His grin faded only slightly as he turned his gaze back to the bar. She had ordered a beer and was looking ahead as she sipped and finished her cigarette, putting it out in one of the ash trays.

“Ohhh you sweet punk rock angel, you will be mine,” he mumbled to himself, shrugging off his jacket and battle vest to toss on top of an amp before turning on his heel to setup his own gear. He never took his eyes off the punk babe at the bar while he placed a newly lit cigarette between his teeth to adjust his mic stand with both hands.

~~~

“Thank you, guys and dolls,” Eddie began, his lips meeting the microphone so his voice sounded loud and distorted. “For interrupting your shitty lives to come see some shitty music.” He gave a toothy side grin at the crowd as a couple of rednecks in the back whooped. He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke upwards before sticking it on the headstock of his guitar. “This one is titled—”

He broke off the sentence to growl the title into the mic, a guttural bellow of the word ‘Skin.’ And at that, the deep crash of cymbals began, followed by the shattering blast of Eddie’s lead guitar along with the snare drum picking up speed. He let his first strum linger long and loud, holding his guitar outward in one hand, before beginning the intro riff at breakneck speed. The symphony of metal started up rapidly and continued its pace for the duration of the song. Many newcomers to the bar, blown away at the unexpected power this band of high school students conjured, began making their way closer to the stage. Most of the regulars were already down front, banging their heads up and down to the beat and swaying into each other, beers sloshing around the pit.

Eddie transformed onstage, his charismatic persona combined with his flair for the dramatic became the perfect amalgamation of a transcendent metal god. The song was mostly an aggressive tribute to the silky soft skin of a bare woman’s thighs and hindquarters—perhaps a bit too risqué for school sanctioned events, but loved and welcomed in the modest rock and metal scene of small town Indiana. The other lines of the song described a bit more violent scenes pertaining to that skin, portraying Eddie up there as a feral sex god, his eyes wide with lust and rage, his teeth bared and his tongue darting out of his mouth to rest at his chin in an animalistic grimace during breaks in the lyrics. It didn’t take long for sweat to bead down his forehead and shine on his bare, well toned shoulders, his white wife beater beginning to soak through along his chest and abdomen and cling to his fit torso. He shook sweat from his long hair as he embraced his role as the insane leader of their alleged cult, the dark curls now drenched and stringy across his face. Between verses, his snarls and grunts punctuated the hostile strums of his guitar, the omnipotent music reverberating around the establishment.

The song came to a halting crash with each instrument reaching its climax in tandem, before Eddie’s quick successive ending riffs coupled with the drummer’s rapid cymbal tapping sped up simultaneously to a satisfying resolution, drummer and lead not breaking eye contact as they bobbed their heads together to the beat. The crowd roared in applause and whistles, earning a wide grin from the frontman as he beamed around the room panting, raising his pick into the air. He gave a quick thank you nod to a bartender who had brought him a shot of tequila, courtesy of an anonymous metal head in the audience. He meandered back to the mic stand to give an out-of-breath word of gratitude.

“And to whoever is taking good care of me up here,” he breathed, raising his glass to the room and scanning the crowd. “This is for you. Salut!”

He downed the shot in one gulp, afterwards shaking his head and violently, tongue flailing along, before tossing the glass to the audience and repositioning his pick to begin the intro to the next song—a skillful and energetic cover of an Iron Maiden song.

~~~

Eddie held his plastic cup of beer between his teeth as he began to unbuckle his belt before he had even entered the men’s room. He grasped the cup again with one hand as the other snatched the door handle to swing it open. He sauntered over to the urinal and chugged a sip of his beer as his other hand freed himself from his boxers, slightly smirking to himself in a tipsy daze as he pissed and drank at the same time. Once he flushed, he gripped his cup in his teeth again so he could wash his hands, smiling to himself and winking when he caught his reflection in the mirror, his damp curls sticking to his forehead underneath a sweaty bandana.

The paper towel holder was empty, so Eddie was shaking his hands dry as he kicked open the door again. The sudden thump of his heavy boot against the wooden door caused the girl in the hallway to look up at the noise, meeting Eddie’s gaze as he stumbled out of the restroom. He stopped in his tracks, releasing his chewed up cup into his hand and setting his foot back down on the floor, looking from head to toe at the girl before him. There she was again, feral, jet black hair and striking eye liner giving her a fierce presence and a stare that Eddie immediately knew was going to ruin his life. She stood there against the adjacent wall in the cramped hallway next to the ladies room door, one foot crossing the other and her arms crossed with a lit cigarette in one hand.

“Oh uh…sorry,” Eddie began, before adding, “Hey.” The girl took a drag of her cigarette, keeping her supporting arm still hugging her torso.

“Hey,” she replied, exhaling smoke to evaporate throughout the hallway. “Don’t sweat it.” Her voice was a sexy, deep rasp that sent a flutter to Eddie’s heart.

“I uh, I haven’t seen you in here before,” he croaked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took in her dangerous beauty.

“First time here,” she answered shortly, looking away before putting her cigarette to her lips once again. Before Eddie could reply, a handful of girls suddenly spilled out of the ladies room, forcing him to bite his question. The girl caught the door, and as Eddie turned to walk out of the hallway, disappointment wiping his smile away, she called back to him as he was heading out to the main room.

“Hey man,” she said, causing Eddie to whip back around, maybe too enthusiastically. She jerked her chin up and to the side in a motion for him to step closer, which he happily obliged. “Nice set.”

“Hey, thanks,” he grinned, walking back to face her. She held the door open with the tips of her fingers, her wine red nails tapping lightly as she studied him.

“You seem like the kinda person to go to when you need to purchase something specific,” she gave him a sweet side smile as she spoke, a sexy canine poking through her lips as she bobbed her head to her words. She was considerably shorter than he was, and kept her head lowered so that she was eyeing him through her lashes, one eyebrow raised as she waited for his response. Eddie squinted lightly, pushing his head back a bit so he looked down his nose at her, his tight-lipped smile forming indentions in the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.

“Could you be more specific, sweetheart?” he poked, crossing his arms and leaning against the opposite wall. She smirked, a stifled laugh escaping through her nose as she looked down at her boots. She shifted her feet to plant flat on the ground, bringing her cigarette to her mouth one last time and inhaled. Keeping her head angled down, her eyes flicked back up to his, smiling more widely now as she put the cigarette out on the door frame and flicked it to the trash behind her in the girl’s room.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” she rasped. She put her hands in her jacket pockets and crossed her foot again as she leaned in the doorway, keeping the door ajar with her boot. Eddie nodded and looked up, smiling and squinting at the ceiling in faux contemplation.

“Yeah…yeah, I might have an idea,” he brought his gaze back down to hers and nodded his head in the direction of the back room of the hallway. She curled one corner of her mouth and nodded before disappearing behind the restroom door. This gave Eddie a few moments to release the breath he didn’t realize he was holding; he sighed and downed the rest of his drink, tossing it to a corner, afterwards bending over to wipe his palms on his thighs.

~~~

The “green room” was nothing more than a small changing room that doubled as an extra storage room. There was one loveseat, shelves for band gear, a makeshift vanity of a secondhand dresser with mismatched mirror, and a small bathroom with a shower towards the back. In one corner there stacked extra stage equipment that other bands had left or donated over time, almost completely blocking the small closet that carried extra hangers for the bands’ convenience. Overstock bar supplies littered various surfaces around the room: paper towels, utensils, condiments and other excess bulk items. It was the walls, though, that gave the room its charm. Every surface from wall to ceiling was plastered with band posters of all who had played there, good and bad graffiti, and signed names with words of encouragement (or insults).

Eddie led this newfound beauty to the back of the bar, kicking clutter and clothes around to form a path to his band’s gear. He knelt down to rummage around for his guitar case as the girl moved a discarded t-shirt and some scribbled on music sheets to sit down on the loveseat. He sprang up from the corner with a satisfied grin, looking admirably at a small baggie of an illegal substance.

“Here we are, love,” he beamed, shaking the bag before plopping down beside her.

“Thanks,” she chuckled, eyes transfixed on the weed. “And it’s Viv.”

“Eddie. Eddie Munson,” he replied with a smile, offering a hand that she shook softly. Her smooth, slender hand was cool to the touch and it sent chills through his spine, ending between his legs. His eyes trailed down to her shirt. “I gotta say, I was a wreck when I found out Sid was dead.” She followed his gaze down.

“Oh, god. Yeah, I was a complete mess,” Viv agreed. She pulled at the bottom of her shirt, smoothing it out before blinking up to meet his gaze again. Eddie became captivated by her piercing stare; he could tell her eyes were hazel by the way they sparkled more than one color, her dark eyeliner casting a dazzling contrast.

“The…the lasting legacy he made in the punk movement was…” he paused, her fierce glare derailing his train of thought. The corners of his mouth lifted in response to her raised eyebrows at his hesitation. “Legendary.”

Viv gave Eddie an appreciative smile, casting her eyes downward to stare at her boots. A few seconds passed silently before she spoke again.

“So, what're you thinking?” she asked, making eye contact again. Eddie started at this question, furrowing his brows. His previous thought was a rather raunchy scene of him finding out where the tattoo on her neck that he just noticed led. A montage of him pulling her onto his lap, placing gentle licks and kisses along the side of her neck and down to bite the ink on her skin swirled through his imagination. He shifted his weight and brought his ankle to rest atop his knee in order to hide his growing tension. His cheeks flushed slightly as he looked away, trying to quell his thoughts of her bouncing up and down across his lap, supported by his hands cupping her—

“What?” he shook the image out of his head and looked at her again.

“The price, man,” she smirked. Eddie’s eyes widened at the realization.

“Oh! Uh,” he gave an exasperated chuckle as he absentmindedly scratched his chin. “Well, I can do an ounce for $25, or uh…call it $15 and I join you.” He gave her his wide grin that defined the creases around his eyes and mouth, earning him an amused snicker in return.

“Alright, Munson. You’ve got a deal.”

At that Eddie beamed, leaping up from his seat to rifle through his guitar case again for his rolling papers. His belt chain clanged around his hip and a bandana swung from his back pocket as he dug through all of the gear. Finally he found what he was looking for and spun back around to give Viv a proud smile, tongue between his teeth and brows raised.

“The only thing, though,” he said, shoving all his paraphernalia into his jacket pockets, “is we aren’t exactly safe in here. You know, it’s still some high traffic to this room.” And it was definitely not quiet. Loud rock music was still thumping through the walls and the chatter of bar patrons got louder as the night progressed. Eventually an employee would need to come back there to restock. Viv gave him a quizzical look and rose from her seat slowly, giving her hair a tussle which didn’t even bother the hairstyle.

“Lead the way,” she rasped, flashing her pointed canine smile at him again. Eddie returned the grin before making his way to the main doorway to peer down the hall. After checking that the coast was clear, he shuffled back to the far end of the room, jumping over scattered music equipment and bags, to get to a small door in the back corner. He motioned for her to follow, apologizing for the mess, and watched as she gracefully maneuvered the maze of junk. It took a couple of shoulder slams to unstick the warped door from the frame, but once he got it open he stood back and gave her a courteous hand wave to motion her forward first.

“Step into my office,” he teased, following her through the doorway and slamming the door shut again, locking it. He turned around, wagging his eyebrows mischievously at Viv as he shook the baggie loose from his fist and emptying his pockets on the sink to get to work. She sat down across from him on the back of the toilet with her feet planted on the lid and watched as Eddie set up, catching his eye as she watched him expertly lick the blunt from side to side. He set it down on the sink so he could open up the window in the middle of the room, banging against the wood to unstick it from the window will. As he hopped up onto the sink backwards and hand-free, Viv smirked at him with an amused huff.

“Looks like my tequila shots haven’t affected your coordination much,” she grinned, a soft laugh meeting his surprised expression.

[darlingmarie3]

Not gonna lie, my soul really hurts knowing that so many people are just NOW realizing how amazing and badass that guitar riff and solo from “Master of Puppets” is. This song has literally been slaying since 1986, like why didn’t y’all notice its badassness sooner?! And yes, I do realize that Metallica themselves have been unfazed by this newfound popularity and are fine with it, but I used to do what people are now doing—not appreciating how truly impeccable specific music is; I used to do exactly that with certain bands and singers and I regret it. So, so much.

Anyway the moral of this is: appreciate music. Listen to what you like, but also explore new music. And when you do explore new music, don’t limit yourself to just the one song you’ve heard by that band or singer; listen to ALL of their stuff. You never know what might happen! ❤️

[jamdoughnutmagician]

1, 5 and 9 for the music asks 🥺💕

1:A song you like with a colour in the title

5:A song that needs to be played LOUD

9:A song that makes you happy

[hairmetal666]

They start kissing on stage as a joke.

The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."

Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."

"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.

"I don't know, other bands do it!"

Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.

Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.

They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.

Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.

The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.

He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.

But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.

They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.

The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.

He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.

They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.

They don't talk about it.

Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.

A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.

Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.

"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.

He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"

His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.

"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"

"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"

Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."

Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.

"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."

And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--

"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.

Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."

He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."

Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.

"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."

Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."

Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.

It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.

Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."

Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"

"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.

"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."

Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."

[forestmossling]

just imagine rockstar! eddie releasing a new album, where one of the songs is called “a voice from above”. in it, he sings about a heavenly voice coming to him in the hardest, darkest hour of his life, when he was ready to give up and stopped seeing a future for himself, and calling him towards the light, coaxing the best out of him and pulling him up from the pit of despair eddie was slowly drowning in.

and it’s a rock ballad, so it differs quite a bit from cc’s usual style, is more “palatable” to the general public with it’s slower tempo, gentler melody and hauntingly beautiful vocals, with addition of a choir in the climax. and because of that, christians start claiming it (basically what happened with “take me to church”), newspapers and magazines wonder at eddie munson, the man a large part of whose aesthetic was so often referred to as “satanic” by the general public, with seemingly no denial from cc, who seemingly has finally found his way to religion.

and when cc comes to their next interview, the question of whether the great non-conformist eddie munson, who on multiple occasions dragged the christian church through the mud with accusations of hypocrisy and fostering bigotry in its midst in his songs and public speeches, has finally found god, inevitably comes up. the moment cc hear it they burst out laughing. after a while, eddie finally responds.

“this song is full of religious motifs, but not nearly for the same reasons you guys seem to think it is. it’s just that the experience the song is dedicated to was the closest i think i ever came to understanding what makes people come to real, genuine faith, the one that fills you with clarity, love and acceptance for the world around you, makes you feel like a part of something so much larger and greater than a mortal human being can possibly comprehend or reach on their own. that experience being the voice of the man that i came to love reaching me while i was in coma and reminding me of all the reasons life was worth fighting for, and then keeping inspiring me to be the best version of myself throughout my whole life.

and that, folks, is how being incredibly gay can save your life! i also don’t mind christians blasting “a voice from above” on their little church parties: my husband, after all, is definitely an angel on earth and absolutely deserves to be worshipped. but don’t you worry, i’m handling that pretty well on my own” and he winks at the camera.

and that’s how the world finds out that eddie munson is married.

[lovebugism]

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”

eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹

pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)

“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”

You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.

You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.

Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.

You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.

“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”

“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.

You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.

“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”

“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly. 

Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do. 

You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.

“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?”  Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”

“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.

Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.

“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint. 

His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.

“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.

“Mm…”

“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.

“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”

Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do. 

His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.

A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose. 

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?

“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”

Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t—”

“Eddie.”

“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”

“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”

His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”

“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.

“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”

“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”

Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”

You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.

“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.

“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”

“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.

“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.

You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.

The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more. 

The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie’s having a strange day.

For once in his life, he’s not being treated like absolute shit by all the dumbass jocks of Hawkins High School.

In fact, they’re not even engaging with him at all. They’re looking at him, but they’re just not saying anything. Even when Eddie pretends to drop his stuff in front of Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t even laugh at him.

And while this should feel like the best day of Eddie’s life, he has an underlying feeling that this is all very very wrong.

Then, he knows the universe has decided to fuck with him or something when Tommy Hagan meets him at his “business transaction” table and instead of buying anything, he leans in and whispers, “Meet me at skull rock after school today.” And fucking plants a quick kiss to his cheek.

And hey. What the hell was that?

Yes, he’s seen the way Tommy looks at Steve Harrington to know there’s no way that there’s not a part of him that wants him in a way that is definitely not platonic.

But Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington (who makes every guy feel a little bit gay) he’s Eddie Munson. And this does not happen to him.

But, he reasons with himself that, hey, maybe he’s in a coma or something and this is his only chance to see what life would be like if he was… liked? That doesn’t seem to be the right word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.

Or maybe the universe decided he needs a break from his horrible second senior year.

Doubtful.

Nonetheless, he decides what the hell, why not go to skull rock and see what Tommy Hagan wants, despite everything in his being screaming THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!

And a few feet into the forest, he hears the quick crunching of leaves and sticks as something approaches him and is nearly startled out of his skin by Steve Harrington of all people.

“You need to leave,” Steve pants out.

Eddie glances around and wonders if this is real.

“Eddie, I’m serious. You need to leave. Right now.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Why?”

Steve sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Oh my god you remind me of Henderson. Okay. The basketball team is planning to ambush you because Billy thought it was a good idea or something. I don’t know. I overheard it in the locker room. And you have to leave.”

Eddie takes a moment to let it all sink in. And yeah, it adds up with the rest of the day, but also… “Why should I trust you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re Steve Harrington. You’re on the basketball team. What if you’re part of the trap?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not really friends with any of them.” His head whips around when a cracking noise sounds out a good distance away. “Let’s go,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and tugging him away.

Eddie plants his feet and stays in place. “You’re going to have to prove to me in some way that you’re not in on this.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and pinches his lips together. “I don’t know how!”

“Then tell me why you’re going against all of them to help me.”

Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he puts his hands on his hip. “Because I’ve been on the receiving end of a Billy attack and that was before he lost the little control he had over his sort of sister that like kept him weirdly grounded or something. But ever since, he’s been itching for a fight, okay? And he doesn’t hold back. He could kill you.”

Half of it doesn’t make sense to Eddie, but something about Steve’s tone makes him believe that he’s telling the truth. But there’s still a small part of him that wants to doubt him.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Steve asks, exasperated.

“If you’re in on it, you won’t be able to. Tommy barely even got my cheek-”

“He did what?”

“And,” Eddie continues, ignoring Steve, “if you’re not in on it, you’ll know that this means literally nothing to the both of us, and I’ll run back to my van immediately.”

Steve stares at him for a second as if he’s out of his mind - which he is, really - before stepping closer and asking, “You’ll really leave? Straight away? No poking around the woods because you’re curious?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. He smiles at Steve’s hesitation and says, “So, you are in on i-”

Only for Steve to quickly close the distance between them, weaving his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him close as he kisses him deeply, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, breath coming out heavier than before.

They both stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word until another crunching sound appears closer than before and a voice calls out, “Eddie?”

Steve takes Eddie hand and runs, only for Eddie to pull him the other way toward his van, still slightly not trusting him although he’s pretty sure Steve’s tongue may have grazed the inside of his mouth. But that’s a thought for a later day.

As soon as the van is in sight, Eddie lets out a deep breath, happy to see it’s untouched before he runs and unlocks it, yelling for Steve to get in before starting it and taking off.

Once he’s on the road, he turns to Steve and asks, “You think we lost them?”

Steve nods and sighs, “I hope they don’t find my car though.”

“Where is it?” Eddie asks, quick to turn around when Steve directs him.

He’s not far from where Eddie was parked before, but with the risk of being discovered, Eddie is quick to stop his car and tell Steve, “Go!”

But Steve takes a moment and looks back at him, and Eddie’s suddenly scared that maybe he read this all wrong and Steve really is in on the trap. But then Steve asks, “And what if I asked you to convince me to go?”

It takes Eddie a second to register what the hell he’s talking about before he’s glancing back at the trees, searching for any movement before leaning over and breathing out, “I have got to be in a coma or something.”

There’s a brief sharp pain in his arm that has him yelping before he registers that Steve pinched him. “Maybe not,” Steve says, leaning closer to close the distance between them again, deepening the kiss in the short amount of time they have and quickly pulling away, leaving Eddie desperate for more.

“I’ll see you around. Thanks for listen to me,” Steve says before hopping out of the van and running to his car.

Eddie takes a moment to breathe before realizing he needs to get the hell out of there, and he quickly speeds off wondering if this is real life.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day, things go back to the way they used to be, but any time Tommy sees him, he turns an ugly shade of red which is accompanied by laughs of, “Eddie Munson stood you up.”

It’s nice at first, but two periods in, he’s already had enough of the dumb jabs people take at him until someone knocks a notebook out of his hands and it goes flying toward a nice blue pair of Adidas.

Eddie bends down at the same time as the other person does, and they both grab the book. When Eddie glances up, he makes eye contact with none other than Steve who gives him a small, private smile.

“Harrington,” Tommy says in an accusatory tone that has Steve frowning before standing back up, leaving the notebook in Eddie’s hand.

As he walks away, he turns back and gives him an apologetic smile that makes Eddie wonder if this is what Romeo and Juliet felt like.

The thought makes his nose wrinkle up before he stands up and goes about his day as if he doesn’t know what it’s like to be kissed by Steve Harrington. And a big part of him hopes that maybe he’ll get another weird day where Steve Harrington plays hero for him. And another part of him hopes that if he really is in a coma, he’ll wake up with Steve waiting for him on the other side.