#eddie munson head canon

[punkrockmlchael]

(Word Count: 481)

Eddie Munson who is a badass until you ask him to kill a spider.

“What are you doing?” He’d ask, standing in the doorway of the bathroom while you’re standing on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the floor.

“There’s a spider, it’s big and hairy. please, kill it,” you’d whine, looking at him as the spider crawled around more and more.

“So am i but you don’t seem to want me killed,” he’d smirk, cocky ass grin on his face as you rolled your eyes. “Where is it?”

You’d point to the giant spider crawling around the floor, Eddie’s eyes meeting the little black ball of fuzz that was crawling around the floor.

A scream would leave his mouth as he would jump up next to you on the bathtub, wrapping his arms around you. “No, fuck that; you kill him. you found him, right? So you get to kill him.”

“No! I’m not touching that thing,” you’d complain, watching it continue to crawl around. Eddie would stare at the spider with wide eyes, watching it come closer and closer.

“My god, it’s coming closer. It must smell fear,” Eddie would comment, shuddering in his spot.

“Eddie, please, what happened to my big strong boyfriend?” You’d ask, looking at him.

“He’s not that big and strong when there’s a fucking tarantula in his bathroom. Oh, my god. Burn the house down; it’s his now, we’re moving out.”

And after hours of bickering back and forth with Eddie, continuously watching the spider crawl around the floor, Gareth shows up at your house for a movie night. He walks towards the bathroom and stops in his tracks when he sees you and Eddie standing on the edge of the bathtub arguing.

“…What are you two doing?” Gareth would ask, raising an eyebrow.

And both you and Eddie would point to the spider and yell “kill it!” at the same time.

And once Gareth sees what you’re pointing at he’d giggle, “it’s just a little spider, guys, fucking chill,” and he’d lean down and grab the spider and pick it up in his hands and walk towards the door with it to let it live and be free in the wild and you and Eddie are sighing and stepping down from the bathtub as you watch Gareth walk away with the spider.

“That’s messed up, i can’t believe i used to have a crush on him,” you’d comment, watching him walk away before Eddie would nod and reply with a,

“Yeah, me neither. What did I ever see in him?” Which would leave you staring at your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow and a look of shock on your face.

“…What?”

“Yeah, i don’t know either, maybe it’s the hair,” Eddie would reply, stepping out of the bathroom as he walked towards the living room, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

“…What?!”

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie makes you a mix tape labeled:

“songs i masturbated to before you agreed to go out with me”

…

“Vol. 1”

[shybunnie20]

A lot of writers in this fandom like to say that Eddie is "good with his hands." Yeah?? Because this is his secret talent, his party trick. This is what Eddie does to try to impress you.. and it works.

"I'm about to rock your socks off, sweetheart. No instrument required."

★My Masterlist

[eddies-hid3out]

Going through my notes app and I found these buried waaaay down from about 18 months ago. I have no memory of writing any of them.

More under the cut to save length and for NSFW stuff.

[stevieschrodinger]

When Corroded Coffin make it big, Eddie leans into the persona in a big way. Face full of black and white make up, often made to look like blood is dripping from his mouth. Big, wild hair, usually shirtless, usually leather pants covered in chains, fingers covered in rings.

Eddie does photo shoots in the get up; Eddie wears the persona to interviews. He accepts awards dressed that way. That is what Eddie Munson looks like.

Eddie Munson maintains that he 'doesn't do relationships' and is famous for having a different girl on his arm to every event. They never go home with him.

So when Eddie wants to live his life, he just...doesn't wear makeup. Puts the hair in a man bun. Takes off the jewellery. Steals one of his husbands happy sweaters.

Eddie Munson, possibly one of the most famous people in the world, can walk with Steve in public and never get recognised.

[lovelylittlegrim]

This Give and Take

Steddie | Pre-Season 3 | letterman jacket | alt meeting | 2k words

Part 1 | Part 2 |

December 9th, 1984

It’s just starting to snow, heavy white flakes drifting down and catching in Eddie’s tangled curls, in his lashes. He sniffles hard, face numb with the cold. He tries to warm his hands by blowing into them, rubbing the moist warmth into his fingers before stuffing them back into the chilled pockets of his jacket.

He’s not dressed for this kind of weather, not dressed for December at all except the heavy boots and the layered jacket and vest combo. It does little to keep the cold from seeping into his skin. He hadn’t been prepared to be stranded in the middle of the night, somewhere between Hawkins and bumfuck nowhere. He’s dressed for the gay bar he just left In Indy, dressed for the press of hot bodies against his own as lights strobe overhead as liquor soaked breath ghosts along his neck.

“Christ.” His teeth chatter around the word, making it longer and warped.

He’s going to freeze to death out here all because he’s gay. Jeff is going to talk so much shit to Eddie’s headstone when they plop him in the ground after finding his body in the thawed out spring. Eddie will never know a moment of peace.

He stops walking, glancing behind him to peer through the thicker flurries beginning to rain down and wonders if it’s better to just turn back to the van. He thought he could make it to the trailer on foot, but the ground is slippery now and the snow is falling thicker than before.

He curses loudly, voice lost to the wind as he hunches down and tries to preserve warmth. He tucks his face into the collar of his thin shirt and breathes hotly. Just a minute, he thinks. He’ll take just a minute to warm up and then he’ll walk. Maybe even run if it gets him back into town quicker.

He can’t stay here huddled on the side of the road. He’s not that stupid. He knows he’ll freeze to death. So, gathering what little energy he has, he forces himself to stand back up and stomp through the growing trenches of snow.

It’s another thirty minutes of barely walking when he sees the flare of yellow cresting atop the hill he’s trying to make his way up. He squints through frozen lashes, heart pounding with hope at the sight of headlights coming towards him. He staggers off the side of the road, moving more into the street and waving a stiff arm wildly.

The car passes him and Eddie deflates. He gets it. Weird guy in all black on the side of the road at what can only be three in the morning… he’s not sure he would stop for them either. He could be a murderer. He is not. Obviously. But, to the driver, he could be. So, as much as he really hates it, he gets it too.

“Fuck,” he he croaks, stomps his feet to warm them up, they’ve gone terrifyingly numb, and just to stomp them because fuck, he might actually cry.

It’s barely a minute or two when yellow light drenches him again, this time from behind. Eddie swivels around, nearly slipping in the slush. The car came back, it had turned around for Eddie. It creeps up beside him on the other side of the road and Eddie contemplates freezing or being murdered because what kind of psycho would turn around for him of all people.

The driver's window rolls down, slow and squeaky, and Eddie’s surprised to see the face on the other side is a familiar one.

“Munson?” Steve Harrington is staring at him with furrowed brows from the dark recesses of his car.

“Harrington,” Eddie says back cautiously. He’s ready to beg for a ride, to promise a lifetime supply of weed and silence at lunch time if he has to just for a ride into town.

Harrington twists around in his seat, looking through the back window and then out the windshield, searching for something, before his gaze fixes onto Eddie again. “Dude, what the hell are you doing out here?”

“Just out for a late night stroll,” he stutters around a sharp burst of wind. “You know how it is.”

“It’s snowing.”

“Yeah, I did notice that,” Eddie nods. He clears his throat and gestures towards where he’d left his van. “My van broke down a few miles back, thought I could make it to town on foot but, uh, snow.”

“Shit,” Harrington says, voice edging into sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.

Silence lapses between them, Harrington staring at him and Eddie staring back wondering how to ask for something he’s pretty sure Harrington won’t give him. They’re not exactly friends. They’re not anything to each other except two people who attend the same shitty highschool. Eddie’s surprised Harrington even knows his name, if he’s being honest. It’s not like anyone calls him by it, usually they stick to the moniker of ‘freak’. Or other, F words they’re oh so clever to use.

It’s not long, barely even a minute before Harrington says, “are you going to get in the car or did you really want to finish your stroll?”

“I,” Eddie blinks, “wait, seriously, you’re gonna give me a ride?”

“I’m not going to let you freeze to death on the side of the road, man.” Harrington frowns at him, brows pulling low. “Why do you think I stopped?”

“Because you didn’t know it was me?” Eddie clicks his tongue. “And really, Harrington, picking up hitchhikers is dangerous man, you shouldn’t be stopping for strangers. What if I was a murderer or something?”

The frown falls away, replaced with a snort of amusement. “I’m glad it is you and not a stranger — and I’m not really all that worried about murderers when it’s this cold outside.”

“You should be, this could be a murderer's favorite weather.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“No, I'm obviously freezing my balls off out here.”

“Obviously.” There’s a small smile pulling at his mouth now. “So are you ever going to get in the car or do you have people to murder on your stroll?”

Eddie shakes his head, too cold to really laugh as he rounds the car and finally climbs inside. He does his best to stamp the snow from his shoes so he doesn’t ruin the interior of the expensive car. Beside him, Harrington rolls up his window and cranks the heat up higher, but Eddie is still shivering.

“How long were you walking?”

“Dunno,” Eddie mumbles, “an hour, maybe?”

He hadn’t exactly been looking at the time when his van died.

Harrington him and reaches into the backseat, his arm fumbles around for a moment, before he seems to grab whatever he’s looking for and yank it into the front seat with them. A swaddle of fabric falls onto Eddie lap and the colors alone clue him into the fact that this is Steve Harrington's letterman jacket.

“You can use that,” Harrington says like it’s the most normal thing on the planet and then he’s shifting out of park and into drive.

Eddie does use the jacket, pulling it around his trembling body desperate to be warm again.

“Thanks,” he chatters when he realizes he hasn’t said anything in a while. It’s not a long drive into town, but with the weather it's slow and cautious. The guy has to be going just over thirty.

“Don’t mention it,” Harrington says easily. Like it really is just that simple. Like the king of Hawkins high giving the freak a ride home is normal and not bat shit insane.

Speaking of…

“What are you even doing all the way out here so late?”

Harrington hadn’t been coming from Indy, he'd been coming from town and in Eddie’s experience, there’s literally nothing open this late except a few sketchy gas stations.

Harrington drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I couldn’t sleep, went for a drive.”

“It’s snowing,” Eddie points out in the same incredulous tone Harrington had used earlier.

Big brown eyes glance over at him, amused. “I did notice,” he tells Eddie.

And, what is happening, Eddie wonders. Are they bantering? That’s weird, right?

Harrington shrugs then. “It also wasn’t snowing when I left the house.”

“How long have you been driving around?”

“I don’t know, an hour, maybe two.”

“Well, shit, I’m glad you couldn’t sleep man, otherwise I would seriously be screwed.” Eddie doesn’t let himself think about what could have happened.

He can’t believe he’s literally been saved by Steve Harrington of all people.

No one is going to believe him. Not that Eddie is going to tell anyone. Except maybe Jeff. For reasons.

“Yeah,” Harrington agrees.

Eddie holds his fingers close to the heat, they ache as they slowly regain feeling. The car is quiet with the lapse in conversation, the only sound the windshield wipers going full force.

“You can play something, if you want.” Harrington gestures to the radio. “There’s tapes in the glove box—I don’t think you’re going to like any of them, but…”

It’s better than the silence.

Eddie wiggles his fingers a few times, pumping blood back through them enough to get them to clumsily work. He pulls out several cassets and snorts when he sees the artists.

Harrington glances over. “I said you weren’t going to like them.”

Eddie holds one up, head shaking even as he decides to pop it into the player. “Should have known you would be into tears for fears.”

“They’re a good band.”

“They’re okay.”

“Just because they’re not always screaming—“

“It’s not about the screaming—“

“Sure.”

Eddie twists the volume, not high enough to cut off conversation but just enough to hear it over the blizzard happening around them. He does actually like tears for fears. He likes the lyrics. He’s not going to tell Steve Harrington that though.

“What were you doing out so late,” Harrington asks after the first song ends and the next one begins.

“Was coming back from Indy.”

“This late?”

“Yeah well things really didn’t go as planned.”

Harrington snorts a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I see that.” He drums along lightly to the beat. “Were you at a bar?”

Eddie's heart leaps up to his throat before he realizes Harrington isn’t asking about a gay bar. Why would he be? He’s just asking about a bar. A regular hole in the wall bar.

“Yeah, the drinks are better.”

“Expensive,” Harrington mumbles.

Eddie’s hums his agreement.

It’s a long drive to the trailer park, but surprisingly not awkward. They keep up conversation throughout the hour's drive. Mostly it’s Eddie making fun of Harrington's music and Harrington defending himself and his choices. It’s surprisingly easy.

Eddie doesn’t think about directions a single time until they’re pulling into the trailer park and edging up to Eddie’s trailer. Eddie stares at his home with relief and surprise.

“You know where I live?”

“I’ve been here a few times,” Harrington says, “with, uh, Tommy and carol.”

Ah.

He’s been a tagalong to Hagan’s drug deals.

“I always stayed in the car,” he explains further but Eddie already gleaned that much. He’s surprised Harrington knows which trailer is his though, they do all kind of look alike.

“Right.”

Steve turns the volume lower, like he needs something to do with his hands.

Eddie shoves open the door, cursing when a burst of sharp cold air washes over them. He clambers out, leaves the door open a crack to say thanks again.

Harrington nods, mouth parting like he’s going to say something, his dark eyes flicking over Eddie but then he just nods. “You’re welcome, man.”

“Uh, drive safe.” Eddie shuts the door and waves before hurriedly bounding up the few steps and tumbling inside the trailer.

It’s not until he hears the low purr of Harrington's car fade away and he’s kicked off his soaked socks that he realizes he’s still wearing the letterman. It smells like expensive cologne and hairspray.

“Shit.”

How the hell is he supposed to give this back?

This was only supposed to be one part but now I have a second part AND two alternate endings for it in the works.ugh

[queenimmadolla]

it’s always Reader sitting in Eddie’s lap, what about Eddie sitting in Reader’s lap, huh???? sometimes i like to hold my little boyfriends, make them feel like my baby girl. sluts.

i know he’d play into it too, sitting sideways so he can sling an arm around your shoulders, his butt bones rubbing into your thighs, wiggling around and being like

“Is that a roll of life savers in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, baby?”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i saw a thirst trap of carlisle cullen last night and i immediately thought about a steddie twilight au but where eddie falls for steve, the patriarch of that weird-ass foster family that just moved to town at the start of eddie's third go at senior year (he moved to hawkins to stay with his uncle and try this last time to graduate after people in his home town keep only thinking of his now convict dad whenever they see eddie. maybe now he can actually graduate without all the teachers holding a grudge).

steve, or Dr. Harrington to the folks of Hawkins, who studied medicine to help people after he was attacked in his early 20s by an actual vampire his father was trying to hunt down after it killed steve's mother

steve, who forced himself to feed on animals, to not take a single breath when he went to his best friend robin's home after being changed to tell her goodbye

steve, who winds up changing robin too (accidentally biting her? he comes back not a year later and robin's sick? idk)

steve, who just kept collecting kids by accident when he'd find them on the brink of death, all throughout his long life.

steve and robin, who are now professionals at pretending to be married (and have been officially platonically married loads of times at this point).

eddie, who skids his car roughly into chrissy cunningham's in the school parking lot after they've just come back from winter break and they both end up bonding over the ride in the ambulance/long wait in the hospital

chrissy, who immediately clocks eddie's reaction to Dr. Harrington as soon as he walks in the room and relentlessly (lovingly) torments him about it from then on.

something something eddie falls for steve the otherworldly being and steve who falls just as hard for this entirely breakable human

classic miscommunications about "He's married!", "He's still totally into you though.." and "Oh my god he thinks I'm married...That's why he's not flirting back!", "And why did it take you so long to realize this?"

dr. harrington's meddling kids (who somehow look just like steve even though they're fosters??? ("They're vampires Chris, they've got to be.")) trying to push eddie on their 'dad' and eddie's 'robin' chrissy on their robin...

idk idk i just can't help but think about a twilight au now lmao

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[briarberrythornedhart]

18 plus post content friendos.

I love reading Dom!Eddie - but I can’t escape “doesn't even know what BDSM is (yet??). Just wants to make you happy! Eddie” smut.

🦇 ⚔️ 🦇

There is nothing graceful about it, but it is the most beautiful thing you’ve experienced on this good green earth.

It’s not artful - but it’s also not false. He’s 100 percent present and 100 honest.

He is gentle mostly - only gets rough if you ask - but you usually bruise somewhere surprising - like - you don’t remember why or how the bruise could have formed? The back of your knee against his dresser?? Your elbow against the milk crate by his bed??

Eddie’s more likely to get hurt, honestly. He will flail out his limbs when you surprise him with a kiss or touch somewhere sensitive - he’s ticklish but won’t admit it.

More than a handful of times he has fallen out of the bed because he was trying to change your position together or try something new and was too excited and lost track of where the bed stops.

There is a lot more giggling from you both than someone else might expect. It doesn't make it less hot.

Eddie is just a force of nature. His style is more mosh pit than choreographed walz.

[italiansteebie]

Steve is a big nickname guy.

Robin is Bobin, or Robs, or even Bobby.

Dustin is Dust, or Dusty.

Hell, he even has nicknames for that little brat Micheal.

So yeah, he's a nickname guy, but the thing is, he's never had a nickname. He's always been just Steve. And I guess you could argue that since his full name is Stefano, that Steve is a nickname but... It's not the same. It didn't come from a place of love, or friendship. It came from the kids in his kindergarten class who sneered and said that was too hard. So he became Steve.

He doesn't count King Steve.

That's just a title that became a reminder of how much of an asshole he was in high school. Because he was. And if we're being honest he can still be kind of a bitch (The sass never ends).

But he's never had a nickname, and it hits his insecurities just right because was he really never worth something as simple as a nickname?

But then Eddie comes along.

And he's Eds, and Love, and Baby.

And Steve...

Steve is Stevie, and he's sweetheart, and Sunshine. And Steve loves sunshine, he thinks it might be the best thing anyone has ever called him. And when Eddie finds out his full name is Stefano, he's Stef. And if that doesn't make his heart swell. Because Eddie is using his real name, and it's not too hard, and it's pretty. And it comes from love, because Eddie says he loves the way it feels in his mouth, and he love the smile that grows on Stef's face when he says it.

And suddenly, Steve is fine with no one giving him a nickname. Because the one's Eddie gave him were worth waiting for.

[punkrockmlchael]

Imagine rockstar!eddie and popstar!reader and the media has pit these two against each other, saying how they hate each other when in reality it's not true at all. And during one of reader's concerts or a live stream someone tries to start something against Eddie and & reader is like "Hold on babygirl, we love Eddie here"

Omg, your mind. (While I agree with this I have a bit of a different take; hear me out) (Word Count: 775)

No because like, imagine being in a band yourself with your closest friends, and you're touring with Corroded Coffin, opening for them. Being in the spot light means rumors flying left and right, it was inevitable. About you, your friends, Corroded Coffin, you and corroded coffin; it felt like there was always something being brought up whether it was true or not.

And you were nervous to tour with them because the media always paints Corroded Coffin to be these big mean and scary guys because, hello, they have this really heavy and deep metal sound (and they’re kinda tall, except for Gareth) but, just because they play metal music doesn't mean they themselves are these big scary guys; in fact they were the opposite.

No, Corroded Coffin are actually sweethearts. The sweetest, to be honest. They would hold doors for you, always make sure you and your bandmates are okay in the public eye; they basically took you and your bandmates under their wings because they wanted to show you the ropes and make sure you’re all living the dream as well.

And after that tour, you kept close ties with them, you were friends with them after all. And somehow you were always the closest to Eddie, he just had the biggest personality in corroded coffin, followed closely by Gareth. Grant and Jeff tended to keep to themselves, but that didn't change the fact that they too were the sweetest boys you had ever met; always always checking in on you. Random texts from Corroded Coffin’s members were something that happened daily it felt like; a meme, a video, a congratulations text on a new song or video coming out. It was always something with those boys, not that you or your friends were complaining.

Anyways, sometime after that tour you and your band were blowing up, becoming bigger and bigger; more songs, more tours, more livestreams to keep your fans up to date!

And one livestream Corroded Coffin got brought up, your band members laughing and recounting the memories of those boys and spending time with them.

Talking about how your first time in California you all went to the beach and Eddie forgot sunscreen and literally was so burnt to a crisp he couldn’t even play his guitar that night because wearing the strap hurt; he stood there and sang while Grant and Jeff did all the work. Talking about how the best part of tour was when Gareth broke his drum set and had to use your bands for a couple shows. Talking about how Jeff and Grant are actually the funniest people you would meet, like they’re always cracking jokes about something whether it be the time or not. (Literally, like remember when Eddie was burnt to a crisp and couldn’t play the guitar? Yeah; they said he looked like a singing and dancing lobster because his bright red shoulders, arms and face were on full display for everyone as he winced into every step he took. As they called it; “the Amanda Show called, they want their dancing lobster back!”)

That was just the start; the fans of Corroded Coffin themselves knew these boys were actually idiots and the funniest people to walk the earth, and you didn’t quite believe it until you witnessed it first hand. (But, come on, they’re idiots and nerds who play metal music; what’s not to love about them?!)

And suddenly while reminiscing on the good old days of tour while on livestream, your friend reads a comment about how Eddie is a dick, and how it appears that everyone’s hates him.

“I heard that Eddie is a dick, he’s such an arrogant asshole who only seems to think about himself and what will benefit him.”

And you whip your head around and look at the screen, raising an eyebrow; ready to defend your friend at any moment. “Oh, no, he's actually quite the opposite. He’s the funniest, sweetest, most caring person we’ve ever met; we love Eddie here. In fact, he actually texted me this morning congratulating us on our new single being out. He said it sounds so awesome, and he can’t wait to hear us play it live.”

Your friend nodded, agreeing with you. “He might look scary with that mullet and those tattoos but I promise you he is actually a giant teddy bear,” they said, nodding along to your words. “He’s a dork, let me tell you.”

“The biggest dork,” you giggled. “But, we love him just the same.”

[melodymunson]

Steve Harrington x fem reader x Eddie Munson valentine's head canons

Headcanons for Steddie Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson x fem! reader Valentines throughout the years. Contains NSFW, smut, and as always 18+

Ao3 link

-You were best friends with Eddie and Steve in high school and throughout college. You graduated from Hawkins High in 1986 with Eddie and went to the college of your dreams on the other side of the country. Steve and Eddie stayed in Hawkins. Eddie worked at a guitar and music store and stayed in Corroded Coffin as well as recorded/toured with them. Steve, on the other hand, ended up going on to work as a manager at Family Video and then worked at a car dealership and made a really good commission.

-Besides fighting the Upside Down with Steve and Eddie and defeating the Demobats along with Vecna with the help of your friends Robin, Nancy, Max, Lucas, and Dustin, you remained an outcast even past graduation as did Eddie. The wreckage from the hurricane and the battle in upside down only brought you and your friends closer together.

-It was late spring of 1990 and you graduated college with honors and moved back to Hawkins to get a job. You missed your family and home but most importantly you were missing Eddie and Steve. You became Steve's roommate and got a temporary job working with Robin at a comic book/record store.

-As you got closer to Steve and Eddie, you spent your weekends playing Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie and the hellfire club but during the week you spent your time with Steve and Eddie cooking/baking, watching movies, playing records, and finally, that fall you got a better job. You ended up working for your dream job and by early 1991, with a big promotion you moved into an even bigger place with Steve and Eddie moved in with his best friends.

-You started as friends with benefits in late 1990 but it grew into so much more by the beginning of February '91 when Steve and Eddie asked you to be their girlfriend. Of course, you said yes and you all celebrated by having the best and biggest joints, mind-blowing sex, and happy-ending massages.

-With Eddie things were a bit rough usually but in all the best ways. Both Steve and Eddie cared so much about pleasing you and getting you off--even more than getting themselves to cum.

-Their favorite way to please you was by eating you out simultaneously and making you cum over and over again at least 8 times before they fucked you deep and hard.

-You loved to get them off by giving them head and they both swore you gave the best blowjobs ever. Having no gag reflex and being able to easily deepthroat were two of the reasons why but they still enjoyed and loved eating you out even more.

-Every day in February up until Valentine's they gave you little gifts. They would give you anything from a new band tee or denim/leather jacket--to a new pair of shoes, really nice and elegant jewelry such as bracelets, necklaces, and even earrings, lingerie, or your favorite bottle/type of liquor. No gesture or gift was too small. Even a home-cooked meal they prepared or a tasty dessert (even one brought home from the local bakery or your favorite coffee and donuts) was a gift you fully cherished.

-On your first official couple's Valentine's Day together you received the biggest chocolate heart and an expensive bottle of really nice champagne tied in a pink and red ribbon bow when you first woke up. When the boys got home from work you had a nice meal cooked and they brought a multi-color variety of 2 dozen roses just for you.

-The best and biggest gift they got you was your final Valentine's Day gift of a puppy and it was your favorite breed that you named Dio.

-That first Valentine's Day together was the most special of them all because you were so spoiled by getting so many amazing presents in addition to receiving a night of being pampered with a set-up home spa complete with lit candles. They ran you the best bath and gave you the nicest massages and some of the best sex ever with rose petals scattered all over the room and the King-sized bed.

-The night was finished off by watching My Bloody Valentine a true classic and Night Dreams (a porno that was horror-based and inspired by the gritty and dark work of David Lynch the director of Twin Peaks. It was about people fucking in hell and you thought it set the mood). The dirty movie led to more sex including 69 with Eddie as Steve filmed it. Eddie then filmed you and Steve fucking doggy style and then anal.

-Future Valentine's Days with your boyfriends included going to a burlesque show one year, a strip club another year, an epic rock/metal concert of your favorite rock n' roll band, and your 4-year anniversary had you and the boys getting an escort who was stunning. She was goth with the prettiest hazel eyes and the most gorgeous figure. Of course, Eddie and Steve wanted you to indulge in your fantasies of being with a woman. They didn't in any way want to deny you that pleasure even though you were seriously dating them. They trusted you and you felt safe with them.

-The other woman was so tender and caring and as Eddie and Steve watched you make love to her, they got off by giving each other handjobs. You loved to watch them as well as you and the woman pleased each other. Everyone had a wonderful time and even though it was a one-night stand you still occasionally went all together to see her headline shows at a local Hawkins burlesque club.

-Some of the hottest and most vivid moments of Valentine's days you spent with them were by far going out to eat at restaurants and showing each other off. After your first Valentine's together your men made sure to always take off Valentine's Day from work and you did as well.

-After being together happily for 7 years you were pregnant and everyone was overjoyed. Steve hoped you were having twins preferably a girl and a boy. Both of them were so happy for you though. Steve wanted to have at least several more kids after this birth and you and Eddie wholeheartedly agreed with him. Soon Dio and another dog had puppies and you kept half the litter giving the rest to Nancy, Robin, and Dustin.

-That next year on Valentine's and 4 months pregnant, you got married to them in a ceremony and celebration with all of your closest family and friends. In attendance was Uncle Wayne, Hellfire club, your parents, best friends, your cousins, some of Steve's relatives, and of course the whole gang including Max, Eleven, Nancy who was now married happily with 2 kids to Jonathan, Robin who was engaged to Vickie with an adopted 5-year-old daughter, and Argyle along with his long-time girlfriend, Eden. Legally you were married to Steve but Eddie was still your husband as well in your eyes and Steddie's and that's all that truly mattered.

-10 years later you were still married but living in an even bigger place with 4 kids now. You had twin girls and two boys. Robin and Nancy were of course the Godmothers. Mike and Dustin were the Godfathers and loved having those titles more than anything. Dio was such a protective and loving dog for the twins and the boys and so were the other dogs.

-You felt so safe and secure with your family and felt like you had more love than your heart ever felt before. For that, you were truly grateful and wouldn't trade any of it for anything.

tag list @chrrymunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @bimbobaggins69 @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @corneliuswatkins @keeryatmosphere @imyourdaninow @ali-r3n @harringtonfan4 @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @bunnsandroses @onegirlmanytales @steveslittlesunflower @reidsbtch @emsgoodthinkin @jadeylovesmarvelxo @zestychili @s6raphic @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @dollalicia @djoekeeryy @lokis-army-77 @shescreamslikeachild @somethingvicked @ofhawkinsandskippy @prettyboyeddiemunson

[ronancecore]

My steddie rock concert canons:

Metal is not the main stream of Steve but he goes always to see Eddie's performance.

When the song ended. Eddie spotted Steve in the waves of crowd, Steve grinning widely and he shouted. “the performance was great!! we want moreee!” Steve hyping the crowd aslo audience shouted along with Steve. Eddie plays Steve's favourite romantic alternative rock song for Steve:) Steve just stunned on his ground when he hears his favorite song played. He didn't realize at first, but he knew it's for him. Steve clearly smile widely and remain standing there. The crowd singing with Eddie, and swaying their hands in the air like, it's shoot from a movie scene.

Steve enjoys listening to Eddie's new songs in record player.

Steve's enjoying playing drum in, Eddie's band studio. He almost broke the drum stick.

Robin help Steve making a poster for Eddie's band group advertisement. Bonus Nancy wrote the headlines.

[lovelylittlegrim]

Dustin Henderson is absolutely going to walk across that stage at graduation in season five, take his diploma, turn to the crowd and do Eddie’s signature devil face at them all, because Eddie never got the chance.

[queenimmadolla]

Eddie Munson wears your shirts, whether they’re crop tops, same-size, or oversized on him.

the size does. not. matter, he’s wearing them. gotta let everyone know he’s spoken for and claimed. what’s on the shirt also doesn’t matter, if it contrasts against his particular aesthetic—well, fuck anyone for thinking he was above wearing Mary Jane Girls merch.