#priest eddie munson

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 31: Religious Play - Eddie Munson

Summary: You were unsure as to what you'd done to offend the new priest. What's worse is that your mom had invited him over for dinner, where you find him going through your bedside drawer, revealing all of your well-kept secrets.

Before reading: This is (obviously) going to refer significantly to religious practices. I, myself, am not Catholic, so any religious information in this fic is purely from Google and may be incorrect. Additionally, if religion is something that you would potentially find triggering, please do not read. You are in charge of your own media consumption, so read the tags/warnings carefully.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content, bad family dynamics, manipulation, religious play, priest kink, sexual coercion, blackmail, mentions of public sexual activities, power play, the act of purifying, deepthroat, begging, non-consensual creampie, rough sex, degrading

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“Your mom has invited Father Munson over for dinner, by the way, so make sure you’re wearing your Sunday best”. Sitting up further from where you’d been lying on your bed, you turned towards your Dad in the doorway, frowning in confusion at his sentence, the beginnings of anxiety creeping into the centre of your chest.

“Fath-Father Munson? Why would she do that?” Internally cringing at your noticeable stutter, you stood abruptly from the bed, wiping your sweating palms down your jean legs.

“How should I know? You know what she’s like when she gets into these schemes and wanting to kiss the community’s arse. Just make sure you’re more dressed up than what you are now”. Before you could continue the conversation, your frustrated dad walked away, closing your door behind him.

Releasing a long, slow breath, you tried to take a minute not to panic. Your mom was definitely trying to scheme something like your dad mentioned; however, usually, it would be with the sheriff or someone from the council so that she could become friends and find out the latest gossip throughout Hawkins. This made it even more nerve-wracking that she was trying to do this with the priest with whom you had a strained relationship.

Rushing to your wardrobe, you tried to find the most suitable outfit you were saving for a church. A simple light blue dress that ended below the knees, matched with socks, but no point wearing shoes when you were staying in your home. Nervously, you began to dress and prepare for his arrival, hating that it had to be him, of all people.

There was something about him that had your heart beating so hard you were sure your rib cage would crack. The priest was still relatively new to the parish and had been a welcome sight. Considerably younger than the feeble, frail previous priest, Father Munson came to the church with new hope and enthusiasm. His sermons would easily capture the attention of the crowds, which in turn caused more people to attend than ever before.

A large portion of the crowd came to check out his handsome looks. There wasn’t just the age difference compared to the old priest; Father Munson seemed to be the complete opposite of every priest who had ever lived in Hawkins. Curly long hair that would occasionally be tied loosely at the base of his neck, roguish good looks to match the gorgeous caramel eyes that could lure you in with a simple gaze. There was no denying many people's attraction to him, especially yours. For many quiet moments alone, you had fantasised about the priest, even if this was considerably frowned upon as he had sworn his life to the church.

It didn’t help matters that he seemed to act differently with you. With blessing, his hands would linger on your skin, eyes blazing into yours during preaches. You weren’t sure what it was, but he treated you so much differently than others, which made you nervous to be with him, and now he was coming to your home.

A couple of hours later, you were ready for the ground to open up, and you fell into the depths of hell. Father Munson had arrived, wearing his usual dog collar and black jacket outfit that he seems to wear most days, his hair curling over his shoulders and down his back, the fringe naturally laying softly on his forehead. You greeted him with your usual smile and politeness, and there was no denying the glaze over his brown eyes as they wandered over your outfit and to your toes, linger there for a moment too long.

Thankfully, your mother swooped in and began to pester the priest, asking how his day was and over-complimenting to the point your dad was cringing from across the room. Luckily for him, your mom was the home cook and needed to return to the kitchen to prepare the rest of dinner so he could excuse himself, saying he would help her. You knew he wouldn't, and unluckily for you, that meant you were stuck in the living room with just you, the priest and the deafening silence.

“Is this you?” his deep voice had you jumping and gripping your chest as you turned to look at what he was referring to. To your displeasure, he was inspecting the family pictures on the wall, precisely the picture frame that showed you as a child, sitting on a park bench with a cheesy grin.

“Yes, I was five and-” You were beginning to explain the origin of the picture, but he swiftly cut you off, clearly using the picture just as an opener to start his teasing and torment.

“What happened to her?”

“What do you mean, father?” your voice remained neutral, but everything inside of you knew he was baiting you into something.

“This sweet girl in the picture, so innocent and loving. What happened to her? What happened to you? To become the way you are now”. Those soft brown eyes then turn back to you, but you’re quickly looking away to stare at your socks, feeling uneasy under the intensity of his words.

This was always what he would ask and refer to—talking as if you were some impure, degenerate human being when you were anything but that. Well, that was somewhat of a lie. To everyone in Hawkins, you were the loving daughter with plenty of friends, achieved good grades whilst at school and now working in the library to earn a living.  They did not need to know about your activities when out of town, specifically going to watch the rock concerts where alcohol was freely passed between fans, which lowered the inhibitions of the drinkers.

Yes, you’d been promiscuous with a few fellow rockers, but you always made sure to pray for your sins the following night, blaming the intoxication for your actions. However, no one knew of this version of your life as you made sure to drive to a town far enough away that no one you knew could accidentally see you leaving a venue or a motel in the morning.

Looking back up to the priest, you tried to appear confused, “I don’t know what you mean, father? The girl you see in those photos is standing in this very room. Nothing has changed except my age”.

“Hmm, I’m not too sure about that. Nevertheless, I will continue to ask for forgiveness for your sins on your behalf. Otherwise, there would be no hope for someone like you”, he casually remarked with a simple wave of his hand over his shoulder, displaying the collection of silver rings that adorned his fingers.

“Thank you for praying for me, Father, but I don’t believe I need your assistance with-” you began to retaliate, but your parents returning to the room had your mouth slamming shut.

“Dinner’s ready! If you’d like to come through, Father”, your Mom beamed with pride, directing the holy man to the other room where she seated him opposite your chair.

Thankfully, your mom could talk for all of Hawkins and speak at Father Munson rather than allow him to talk. You could keep your head ducked low and push the food around your plate until your parents asked you to tidy the dirty dishes in the kitchen. Even after this, you were forced to listen to the three of them talk about the church and how tainted Hawkins had become in recent years, needing a strong religious figure to lead them to the light.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything we could offer you to drink, Father?” your Mom requested for the fifth time as her glass had been drained of wine again.

The priest shook his head, the curls bouncing around his emotionless face, “No, thank you, ma’am. But, I would appreciate it if you could point me in the direction of your toilet if you wouldn’t mind”.

“Oh, of course! It’s just at the top of the stairs and the second door on the right”.

You watched him stand, straighten his jacket, and walk up the stairs, which were in your eye line. However, once at the top of the stairs, he looked back down at you, the beginnings of a smirk on his lips as he turned left instead of right, which incidentally led him straight towards your bedroom.

Standing so quickly that it caused both of your parents to startle in their seats, you quickly stammered an excuse to run up the stairs, “I think I forgot to close my window! I’ll be back in a moment”.

Your parents grumbled insults under their breath towards your rudeness. Still, you ignored them entirely, climbing the stairs two at a time to race towards your bedroom and hoping to God that the priest had made a simple mistake and just needed clarification of the direction of the bathroom.

As you arrived on the landing, you stared towards your now-closed bedroom door, which had once been open. Opening it with as much urgency as you could muster, you found, to your horror that the priest had entered your safe space and was currently rifling through the secret belongings of your bedside drawer that you swore had been locked before.

“What are you doing?! Those are my private belongings-!” you began, trying to whisper but remaining firm with your questioning as your hands trembled at your side as you knew just the sort of things that were hidden in the bedside draw.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked, sounding as casual as ever but didn’t match the fierce anger swirling in those usually welcoming chestnut-coloured eyes. Your heart momentarily stopped beating in your chest as he held up a small silver device that could be mistaken for lipstick but was undoubtedly anything but something used for cosmetics.

“It’s my lipstick, and I really don’t appreciate you going through my stuff, Father. If we may return to the dinner-” You tried to sound as calm and confident as possible, but once more, he interrupted your attempts to move him out of your bedroom.

“You and I both know that this is not a lipstick. Do you know how to use it properly?” Your entire body burned with embarrassment as your shoulders rolled back, and you held your head high, deciding you wouldn’t answer his question, but his response only made you want to melt into the floor more. “Clearly not by the lack of an answer. Clearly you are being tempted by Satan with some of these behaviours, and ah- it seems your taste in music seems to justify this sort of behaviour”.

Dropping the bullet vibrator back into the draw, the priest lifted a cassette tape of your favourite band, Metallica. You knew of the judgemental and anti-faith stereotypes that came with liking rock and metal music, and yet, you couldn’t help but love the music, having used it as an escape for years. A secret escape at that, having kept it hidden from your parents all these years, which is also why you travelled so far to the concerts to truly be yourself where no one you knew could find you.

“Have you listened to their latest album? Track two is something special”, Father Munson remarked whilst replacing the cassette in its hiding spot. Your mouth was wide with unspoken questions, wanting to splurge out as a thousand thoughts alarmed through your mind.

“You… you listen to Metallica?” you asked in absolute disbelief.

The priest closed the draw slowly, turning to face you ultimately, his eyes lingering on the blue socks on your feet. “What I do outside of the church is none of your concern. But, what you do is mine, especially when I have your parents are so worried about the dark, satanic goings-on that are promoted by this sort of music. I can easily fend off the demon whispering through the lyrics, but you? No, someone like you can be so easily manipulated and tempted by the devil”.

You hadn’t noticed just how close he was until the tips of his shiny leather shoes were touching the tips of your toes. Instinctively, you take a significant step backwards, which, in turn, he follows and steps forward. It’s like a teasing dance until you lose as your back collides with your bedroom wall, and he's leaning his hand against the wall beside your head.

“The devil is not tempting me, and I don’t know why you seem so insistent that I am. I come to church every week, I pray nearly every day, what more do you want from me?” As you speak, you realise just how captivated by his eyes you are, and even though you want to look away, you hold the gaze.

“I want you to believe the things you are saying. I, for one, believe you have already been lured by the demonic forces that can so easily tempt sweet little souls like yours. You need purifying. Need the light to return to your soul or risk being damned forever”. As he spoke, you couldn’t help but glance between his lips and eyes, something he, too, noticed as his thumb and forefinger roughly grabbed the tip of your chin, forcing your face up so you were looking up at the ceiling.

You were sure he would be able to hear your heartbeat with how violently it was pounding in your chest as his face dipped so close to your ear that his hair stroked the soft skin of your cheek. “Want to know why I know the depths of evil have already tainted you? Imagine my surprise as I’m watching one of my favourite bands, and who do I see in the middle of the crowd? I see the innocent librarian, wearing next to nothing and some random man’s tongue in her mouth and fingers in her underwear. Does that ring any bells for you, Sweetheart?”

It did. It had been several months ago, and you were considerably drunk and speaking to this stranger for hours whilst waiting in queue for the concert. You were never one for public indecency, but you were going to blame the alcohol for the fact that he’d fingered you in the middle of the crowd, and after the show, you returned with him to his motel for more erotic adventures.

You felt sick to your stomach and had no idea what to say. Of course, you could deny it, but it seemed a useless task if this had been what was fueling his pestering for all of these months. Furthermore, all you could think about were your parents downstairs and just how much you were at the mercy of the priest in front of you.

“Not so quick to retort now, are you, angel?”

“Please, don’t tell my parents. They hate me enough without knowing this side of my life”. It was hard to plead for something so desperately when you were still left staring at the ceiling, entirely at the mercy of the priest pressed up against you.

There was a moment of pause where images and scenarios of all the potential repercussions flashed through your mind. Your parents kick you out, are a thorough shouting at, and probably lose your jobs due to the rumours and whispers that would spread throughout Hawkins. With no job and nowhere to live, you’ll be on the streets with no food or water and your entire world crumbling around you.

Before any further begging could be done, the grip on your chin was released, and the priest was stepping away from you. More specifically, he was stepping away from your door and towards the stairs that led directly to your parents.

“Stop!” you whispered urgently, trying to grab onto his arm to pull him back, but he was already halfway down the stairs and in the eye-line of your parents, who stopped their conversation to greet their guests with fake smiles.

You nearly slipped on the bottom step as you ran down behind the long-haired priest, trying to think of a way to interrupt whatever he had to say, but your mind was utterly blank of thoughts.

Instead,d you had to stand in horror as you watched his mouth open, “I’m sorry to cut this night short, but I’ve realised that I need to rush back to the church. I had thought the groundsman had been working today to lock the building, but it’s just occurred to me that he’s on holiday, so I must get back to lock up. Unfortunately, the church is quite big so it will take me a bit of time, and your lovely daughter here has offered to help me; I hope you don’t mind. I will drive her safely home once the church is safely locked”.

“Oh? Now… you have to leave now?” your mom questioned uncertainly, glancing between her freshly iced cake left uneaten in the middle of the dinner table.

“What my wife means is that, of course, that is no issue at all. I’m glad my daughter has decided to be helpful in some way. You’re welcome back here any time, Father”, your dad explained, giving a pointed look to his wife before standing and shaking Father Munson’s hand.

This was how you ended up in the passenger seat of the man’s van, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat in desperation. You weren’t sure what was worse. Knowing he didn’t tell your parents now and could at any point in the future or that you were now alone with him with a blatant lie about the church needing locking.

One small part of your internal monologue was jumping for joy, attempting to take in every unique detail you hadn’t noticed before from the man. The van smelled of cigarette smoke, a habit he must have kept secret as you were reasonably sure he wasn’t supposed to indulge in habits such as this to remain a good role model for the community. Surprisingly, he also had a Judas Priest tape playing quietly, his ringed fingers tapping with the rhythm of the guitar. This was only surprising as he wasn’t even attempting to hide his love for the metal band, which gave you one bargaining chip if he ever decided to blackmail you with informing your parents.

“Thank you for not telling my parents. I was worried for a second that you were going too”.

Father Munson glanced over at where you were still clutching to your seat as if it were your lifeline. Even though you weren’t facing him directly, out of the corner of your eyeline, you watched his eyes drop to the bare skin of your shins.

“Who says I won’t be telling them? I just thought it would be easier to be in a holier place, in private, where we could both pray for your sins… extensively”. 

This did nothing to ease your anxiety and embarrassment. Was he expecting you to kneel at the front of the church and beg god to forgive you for the seedy acts you’d done in secret?

Thankfully, the drive was swift enough that you couldn’t dwell on these thoughts. The surrounding area of the church was coated in darkness as the moon was covered by low-lying clouds, which gave the site an even more haunted feeling than usual. Due to this, you regretfully had to stay close to the priest, rushing to get to the double doors of the silent church.

Once inside, you remained at his elbow as he began to turn on the few lights hanging on the wall, illuminating the rows of pews and alter.

“What would you do to be forgiven by God? By me?” You blink, unsure if he was referring to himself as a god or just as the one to allow forgiveness to be given on behalf of the church.

“I’d do anything”.

“Then kneel before the cross, and we will start with the body of Christ”. 

Every Sunday, you completed the action asked. To kneel in front of the cross hanging above the altar as the Priest placed a wafer of bread onto your tongue, followed by a sip of wine. However, doing it now with only Father Munson to witness it felt demeaning. Furthermore, the priest didn’t help with how he placed the wafer onto the flat of your tongue, his thumb pressing firmly so that saliva filled your mouth at the pressure. Next came the wine, which he tilted your head back by pushing your chin so you were staring at the ceiling.

Your mouth was open as he tipped the watered-down wine in, except a single drop slipped past your lips, dribbling down your chin, only to be captured by his thumb and pressed back onto your mouth, where you obediently sucked it clean. You nearly choked on the liquid as the realisation as to what you’d done, and your body unforgivingly began to warm, not from embarrassment but a desire pooling deep within your centre.

Averting your eyes to stare at the floor, you continued to him say the Lord's prayer, which you recounted under your breath, attempting to steer your thoughts away from the damping of your underwear.

“Amen”, his strong voice resonated around the empty church as you repeated the words with a dip of your head. “I don’t think it’s enough just to have the blood and body of Christ inside of you. The actions you have been a part of across the country, the dark music you listen to, I think you need more thorough purifying”.

“Please, Father. I’ll do anything”, you insist whilst remaining on your knees and looking up at him with wide eyes. Even though you were still frightened of the repercussions, your body responded treacherously. “I want you to purify me from my demons, Father”.

The handsome face standing above you tilted, his eyes shadowed now behind his long hair. “When people look at me, they see me as the spokesperson for God and the practices of this church. I am a symbol of everything holy. Some would say that there is nothing more pure than me, leading the way for others to become accepted by God”.

You weren’t sure if it was your hopes and the disconcerting pulse between your legs, but you could have sworn there was an undertone to his words. Carefully, you picked your following words, “If it is you, Father, that I need to rid of these demonic entities, then I will gladly proceed with whatever you deem is necessary”.

“These erotic acts that you have been divulging in, forgetting your faith and allowing the words of the devil to stain your body. The only way to flush these demons out is by replacing them with pure ones, by a holy being. If you want to make God happy and earn his forgiveness, you must earn these rewards. Do you understand what it is that I am saying to you?”

You swallow the thick glob of saliva, continuing to hold his eye contact, ignoring the uncomfortable ache in your knees. As you nodded in understanding, you verbalised, “Yes, Father, I understand”.

Without missing a second, he ordered sternly, “Undo my belt”.

Your fingers lifted to his black leather belt and began to unbuckle it, not wanting to overthink the actions you were doing, even though the bulge in front of you made it evident of his intentions. He held the power of your life and religion in his hands; if he wanted you to pray until the early morning hours, you would. Of course, you knew the manipulation, blackmail and coercion he was currently holding above your head was wrong in every sense of the word. Still, the broken part of you that enjoyed being fingered in the middle of a busy crowd was more than ready to please the priest in any way he deemed necessary.

With his belt now unbuckled and opened, you waited patiently for your following instructions. “Let’s start with ensuring your mouth is purified and cleaned of sins first. What do you think, Sweetheart?”

“Yes, Father”, you replied whilst fixing your stare on his crotch. Carefully, you nimby unbutton and pull down the zipper to his slacks, opening the gap. Reaching inside his stripped boxers, you were able to wrap your fingers around his hard length, surprised to find him thicker than you’d anticipated. Releasing his length from the confines of his clothes, you admired the firmness of the shaft and the way it throbbed as you squeezed him gently.

“Please cleanse me, Father”, you whisper up at him before licking the deep maroon tip of his cock. The priest didn’t so much as sigh at the touch, but the length did harden slightly as you began to leave open-mouth kisses up and down the shaft. 

“Enough. Open your mouth, stick your tongue out”. You did as instructed, sitting back on your heels to await his next move, but it seemed he had other ideas as he placed one hand on the back of your head, and the other supported his cock at the base. Stepping forward, he directed his cock into your mouth, sliding it against your tongue until he was hitting the back of your throat.

You were only just able to suck in a deep breath before he was pushing further in, your eyes filling with tears at the stimulation that was too much, but you wanted to impress him, so you attempted to relax the muscles of your throat. Finally, this earned you a satisfied grunt as the priest watched his dick disappear into your mouth.

Father Munson then proceeded to fuck your throat with the pressure from his hand on the back of your head, keeping you in place and entirely at his mercy. Saliva was soon dripping down your chin, but the sloppiness of it all only made him more frantic and harder with his thrusts. You weren’t able to take his entire length before you were gagging and pushing on his thighs to allow you a moment to breathe through your nose.

Suddenly, he was yanking back your head, pulling himself entirely out of your mouth, “I don’t think it would be as beneficial to allow the purification to happen down your throat. Come here”. With his hands now held out for you to hold, you did so tightly, grasping the rings and allowing them to cool the heated skin of your palm.

Your legs struggled to hold up any of your weight from being on your knees for such a long time, so the priest had to carry you over to the alter practically and have you lying face first over the table. Sighing at the contact and now having to worry about keeping yourself upright anymore, you looked over your shoulder to Father Munson, who was admiring the back of your legs.

Wishing for the wait to be over, needing the fire in your belly to be eased in some way, you wiggled your hips invitingly. “Please, Father Munson, I need you to help me. I want to be cleaned by God’s touch”.

You could have sworn that the man growled under his breath as he lifted your skirt. The apples of your cheeks warmed as he didn’t even pull down your underwear completely; he simply moved it to the side. You could only gasp at the coolness of the air touching your soaked pussy.

A subtle kick to the insides of your feet had you widening your stance so the priest could move in closer between your legs. You watched over your shoulder as he dipped his height slightly, and then you could feel the firmness of his length pressing against your folds, swiping up and down, trying to find its home and then nudging into your hole.

You raised onto your tip toes as the pressure intensified, your hole stretching enough that a dull ache formed in the gummy walls. Your eyes closed as well, thoughts zoning onto the cock now penetrating your body. He was entirely overwhelming, yet you never wanted that sensation to end, as scandalous and against the rules as this was.

“Good girl, let me in, that’s it”, he praised, watching your pussy take inch after inch of his cock. You whimpered at the praise and intrusion, and when you reached behind to try and keep him from entering anymore as you needed a moment to adjust, he grabbed onto your hand and held it to your lower back and thrust in the remainder of the way.

“God!” you shouted out with spite.

Father Munson chuckled, his hand squeezing yours, “That’s exactly right. God. He’s here to ensure you’re thoroughly cleansed, Sweetheart”.

Your entire body shivered as he began to ease out, your cunt shrinking back to its original size before stretching once more as he thrust in. It seemed the priest wouldn’t wait, needing to do his work thoroughly and deeply.

His thrusts had your body rocking back and forth on the stone altar. The obscenity of your cries echoing around the silent church only made this entire situation feel more intense for you. What’s worse is that when you finally opened your eyes, you were forced to gaze up at the statue of Jesus on the cross, watching the entire scene unfold.

“That’s right, they’re all watching. Making sure all the demons have escaped your body. That you now truly belong to the church. No song or man will ever lure you to the devil. Only God and I have permission to have your soul and body. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Father”, you cried out around the deep moans of pleasure. Even though you were trembling, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Other than the watered-down wine, there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in your system. It felt incredibly taboo to be fucking the priest in the middle of his church, and yet, there you were, begging him not to stop.

The cock that continued to pound into your cunt expertly stroked every beautiful spot that had you verging on the edge of an orgasm. Tingles deep in your belly and running down your thighs to the tips of your toes. You were so close that you were almost unaware that the priest was near to his orgasm. Almost. You had nearly fallen so far into the fantasy that you’d momentarily forgotten what his main goal was. To penetrate you with his pure seed to rid your body of the demons.

“Wait, you can’t cum inside of me”, you urgently say, looking over your shoulder towards the man who now had wildly unkept hair and a blush rosing the skin of his neck that you could see.

“How did you expect to have God’s forgiveness if you can’t have my pure seed soaking you from the inside?” You were too far gone to care about the repercussions as you came with violent squeezes of your pussy around his cock. The tightness with which you squeezed him only helped to milk him for every single drop of cum that came flooding into the deepness of your cunt.

Still reeling over the high that was easing through your system, you were only half aware of the priest grunting the Lord's pray as his thrusts came to a stop. A heavy hand on your hip kept you pressed against the stone altar as he pulled out and replaced your panties into the correct position.

“You must keep this inside of you tonight for the full potential of the Lord's work to unravel. Understand, Sweetheart?”

“Yes, Father”.

[munsonology]

Listen I know the irl Warrens are terrible people

But the Conjuring Movie Warrens?

Something about Patrick Wilson COULD GET IT. Vera Farmiga? Could get it!

Literally me and my friend sat and watched the entire movie and we both went...hold up is this a romance? Watched the second one and went IS THIS A ROMANCE???

We have a list. Of romantic things Ed does for/to Lorraine in the first two movies. 1. Listens to her is THEE number one thing. She has a gut instinct? He's like damn you're smart absolutely babe. 2. HIS TIE MATCHES HER SKIRTS. 3. He plays guitar and sings. 4. He is a fixer upper!!! Broken car, broken swing, BROKEN HEART IT DONT MATTER. He could fix me 😤 5. He is a family man!!

Bro I could go on. Anyways this all stemmed from you mentioning biker Eddie and nunny but bro...exorcist couple...the potential

Yeah it must be done now lol

There’s so much to unpack with not only that couple irl but the movie too. I need to watch them all in order. And I need to watch the nun. I know it’s not a comedy but I can’t help but giggle at some of the jumps 💀💀

oooof and then imagine priest!eddie and nunny doing exorcisms and Eddie is the big man downstairs himself 😮

I’m gonna have so many au’s for biker!eddie and nunny 😭 they’re perfect for each other

[wheneverfeasible]

You ever think about Eddie Munson in his early 30s watching Rob Halford coming out on MTV? You ever think about Eddie, knowing he was queer but unable to come out for fear of repercussions? He’d been hunted by one mob before and he didn’t want to go through that again.

Maybe Corroded Coffin made it big. Maybe Eddie started or joined a new band. Maybe he does a solo act. Maybe he’s not famous at all and he’s living a regular life.

And then Halford comes out, and Eddie sees how the metal community accepts him, how the community embraces him, and Eddie realizes that yes it’s scary but also he wants that happiness that Halford has, that wonderful moment of coming out of the closet.

Maybe Eddie understood “Raw Deal” for what it was all along, maybe he’s always gotten the hints sprinkled here and there throughout some of the songs. Maybe he always suspected, always wondered. Sure, he lives in a podunk town in Indiana, but he’s sought out whatever information he could when he first realized he was different. He read zines and articles and listened to hushed talk in bars when he escaped Hawkins for a little while when he was younger.

You ever think about Eddie, coming out in his 30s, because even though he knows it can be dangerous, even though he knows it can go all wrong, he doesn’t want to be in the closet anymore and later he writes a letter to Halford, not really expecting him to ever read it, expressing gratitude for the courage and the strength to finally be true to himself, come what may.

Imagine Steve Harrington, adding his own little postscript, thanking him for helping him find the man of his dreams.

Years later, when it’s finally legalized and they’re both graying and a little soft around the middle, do you ever think about Eddie and Steve inviting Halford to their wedding not really expecting him to ever read it or show up if he even did?

Do you ever think about Rob Halford showing up with his own partner Tom Green and telling Eddie and Steve that they’ve been rooting for them all these years?

You ever think about Eddie, alive, happy, and loved?

Link to Halford’s interview

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (You Are Here)

Complete Thing on A03

Sure enough, Jason Carver had brought a priest. 

The idiot himself stood next to the guy, smugly grinning like a hunter posing with his prized buck, a small crowd already gathering. 

Opposing them was Michael Wheeler, hands planted on Hellfire’s table and back up like a pissed off cat’s, mouth moving faster than Eddie thought possible.

He couldn’t hear what Wheeler was saying. 

Frankly did not want to know what Wheeler was saying, and could only do his damndest to intervene before Mike tanked the situation entirely. 

Gareth and Jeff flanked him, both tense as hell. Neither had backed down though, standing tall and holding ground even as Jason pulled more and more people into his little spectacle. 

Lucas and Grant on the other hand, were standing off to the side.

They weren’t cowering exactly, but both were definitely wincing as Gareth opened his mouth to add his own two cents. 

Given the scowl on the priest, it was probably something nasty, 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie thought, teeth clenched, as Jason drew out his arms, making an even bigger production for his little audience. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ 

The worst thing of all? 

Dustin managed to reach the group before anyone else did. 

Wheeler and Emerson might have low charisma, but Dustin had a particular combination of snark and a know-it-all attitude that really pissed off authority figures. 

(And Eddie would know, given he was the reigning champion of pissing off authority figures.) 

He did, however, slide in right in time to hear the priest respond. 

“I don’t care for your tone, young man. Jason here has some concerns over your club and I have to agree, what I see is quite,” The guy paused, jowls jiggling as he looked over their table, clearly eyeing Hellfire’s logo. “alarming.” 

 At least wasn’t an actual sermon.

Not yet, anyway. 

Eddie came up right inbetween Mike and Dustin, intending to make himself out to be the new target for all to aim at.  

There was an art to making yourself the sole owner of everything evil in this world, and Eddie had learned it all, trial by fire style.  

“Carver is full of--” Mike snarled, and thankfully was cut off—not by Eddie, or the hand he’d just clamped onto Mike’s shoulder—but by Harrington. 

Who sauntered right up as if he was joining everyone for dinner, and not walking into a circus act.

“Hello Father.” Harrington said, voice warm and welcoming.  “Would you like some of our cookies? We have a sample platter.” 

“Oh--Steve!” The priest blinked, actually blinked, that he was startled to see Hawkins’ golden boy appear next to him. “I’m sorry but no. I’m ah, here for other reasons.”

He paused so long it was nearly comedic before tentatively asking; “ Are you with this table?”

Like the guy couldn’t see the same Hellfire logo plastered across Steve’s ridiculous jock chest. 

Eddie opened his mouth to give a resounding no, Hellfire shirt or not--when Mike of all people put an elbow into his side. 

As if Eddie was the one who needed to be silenced.  

“I am.” Steve put an arm down on Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that looked like fond encouragement (but what Eddie was pretty sure was actually a warning in the same way the hand on Mike’s shoulder was.) “I came to help out my friends and fundraise.”

Then he beamed, face lighting up with the full Harrington charm, giga watt smile and all. 

Now the priest just looked awkward. 

“You’ve apparently been fundraising for what I have been told is a…Satanist Club?” 

It was hilariously delicate, how the priest said it. Like now that a respectable member of Hawkins was here, he had to be more careful about what words he used. 

Eddie would have interrupted then.  Retake the reins and do what he did best in terms of making everyone forget about everything but him--except Carver was rounding on Harrington, and well.

He was always a fan of the rich eating each other. 

“You cannot seriously be with these--these,” Jason’s eyes darted to between him and the priest, before physically reigning himself in. “hooligans, Harrington!” 

“I’m sorry.” Harrington said, and whatever Jason had been expecting to get hit with, it wasn’t “good ol’ boy” southern charm. 

He blinked, taking on the air of a kicked puppy who couldn’t understand why someone would be so mean as he glanced around the crowd.  “I think I'm a little lost here.” 

Jason clearly wasn’t prepared for that either. 

“What?” 

“This table is for a storytelling and math game.” Steve spoke slowly, in the same way one explained things to a toddler. “You have to roll dice and add the numbers up to do anything."

“It’s not a game, Steve.” Jason spat back. “It’s an evil trick made to tempt the susceptible minds of children to the dark arts!” 

Personally, Eddie was amazed Carver even knew the word susceptible let alone be able to properly use it in a sentence. 

(He tried to open his mouth to say so, and once again got elbowed, this time by Gareth. 

The look he gave his younger friend could have melted steel beams.)

“That’s what this is about?” Harrington slid his arm off Dustin's shoulders, leaning back to look at the priest and the people around them in a show of blatant disbelief. “You think the nerd club is related to satanism?” 

It was Eddie's own tactic--arguing that D&D was “using academic skills” and “making math fun!" not that Hellfire had ever been successful using it.

Of course, they weren’t Hawkins golden boy either. 

Jason sputtered. 

“It has monsters and--demons in it! It makes children do spells and sign over their souls!” He flung a hand out, for the first time acknowledging Eddie by pointing at his shirt. “Just look at that! It’s awful!”  

"Hey." Eddie said, hand going over his very well drawn dragon.

“I once had to stop an argument about how much weight a wooden bridge could hold.” Steve countered, hands moving to his hips. “I only got them to stop by agreeing to take the kids to a library so they could look it up.” 

He squinted, in Carver's direction, deadpanning; "I take it you think the library is evil now too?"

“The name of the club is called Hellfire!” Jason shrieked, sounding more like an angry teakettle than anything dangerous. 

“Look I get that it sounds scary,” Steve said, the tiniest hint of pity entering his voice, “but they’re trying to make math problems and English essays sound cool. It’s the same reason Father John here calls our annual haunted house Hell House, isn’t it? So people go in it to begin with?” 

Harrington turned to look expectantly at the priest, and Eddie had to admit it was an excellent way to both pander to the guy and sound like Jason was making a big deal out of nothing. 

Perhaps, he’d stay quiet after all. 

(Even if it went against Eddie’s entire being to do so.)

“Well, yes, but--” Father John had clearly picked up on the fact he was losing this particular argument, but plowed forward regardless. “Those activities are supervised by the church…” 

“This is evil Harrington, and you should know better to promote it.” Carver tacked on, like this was a two bit comedy sketch. 

“When I played it we just saved some poor town from a bad guy who set it on fire.” Steve rolled his eyes. 

Then he leaned in, converting his voice into a stage whisper that somehow projected it, giving the impression that everyone around them was listening in on a secret. 

“The doctor said it was a really good way for Dustin and Erica to process the mall fire. He’s a specialist--my mother managed to convince him to fly down to help all the kids who got hurt.” 

Eddie was 100% sure that was total bullshit, but the mere mention of Harrington's mother had seemed to have an effect on the people around them.

 Like Steve had invoked the name of an old but beloved God, not always benevolent but definitely memorable. 

“She’s always been a champion of helping when you can.” Steve spoke to the priest, like they were having a conversation between just the two of them. “Encouraging people to volunteer and helping fundraise.”

“She has been." Father John said, in the kind of instant way one does when they don’t want to offend a very large donor.  "Tell your mom I look forward to her coming back from her--ah, trip.”

 With an awkward glance to the table, he added; “...I suppose I don’t see how math comes into play?” 

“Oh it’s right from the start. Hey Jeff, come here, show Father John how you have to do a bunch of calculations and stuff to make a character.” 

“Ah--right.” Jeff sprung to life, moving around the table to Steve.

“We uh, we start with this character sheet…” 

“Eddie Munson runs the club.” Jason interrupted, before Steve could get Jeff to going.

“He’s right there! Does he look like this whole thing is just an innocent board game?” 

This was a last ditch effort, and it was clear by the chattering that had started circling amongst their audience that everyone knew it. 

Unfortunately, it was a good one.

This was the downside to making yourself a target. Once a bad guy, always a bad guy--particularly in the eyes of the PTA. 

“Munson?” Harrington dismissed with a scoff. “He’s harmless.” 

Which was news to most of their audience given the amount of attention Eddie suddenly had on him, but it was fine. 

He was used to the disapproving stares and glares, and gave his best award winning smile in response. 

Jason looked at Harrington like he’d lost his mind. 

“He has skulls on his fingers for fucks sake!” 

“Jason.” Steve admonished, in a perfect mimic of an upset southern mother. “Language.” 

Carver's jaw dropped, face purpling in rage.

Steve ignored him, turning back to the Priest. “I don’t know what's gotten into him but I’m sorry Jason’s wasted your time, Father.” 

“Munson is a drug dealer!” And ah, here came the Hail Mary move, Carver's one and only trump card.

“We all know he’s a drug dealer, and he’s using this--this game, to give drugs to kids!”

“Really?” Steve turned. “Lucas, what happens if I ever catch you smoking weed?” 

Lucas answered instantly. “You’re going to make us run laps at five in the morning.” 

“For a month.” Dustin added, with an exaggerated shudder. 

It would have been too much--except his disgusted face sold it. 

“Eddie’s just loud and wants to be a rockstar.” Harrington said, like this he was harmless.

No one on Steve's side of things had ever thought of Eddie as harmless.

 “I’ve babysat these kids for years and Eddie was a huge help in making sure no one in high school messed with them.” He continued, like they were some sort of team or friends even.

(Like Eddie hadn't been at Harrington's throat all day, pissy and defensive.)

“We have a real bullying problem right now. Funny enough,” Steve’s nailed Jason with a look, “I keep hearing that it’s coming from the basketball team.” 

“What are you implying?” Jason asked darkly. 

“Just that it’s funny how nobody got caught fighting when I was team captain.” Steve returned. 

God the man was such a bitch. Eddie kind of wanted to kiss him a little. 

Okay, more than a little.

“I get you have some kind of beef with Munson, but let’s not drag a bunch of people into it. Especially not Father John.” Harrington was playing up to the mothers around him now, dismissing Carver entirely as he did so. “He’s a busy guy.”

“Very.” Said Father nodded solemnly. “I do not appreciate being pulled into a high school squabble.” 

Jason’s mouth swam through shapes, words stuttering out of it. “This isn’t, thats not--”

“We can talk about this after church on Sunday.” Father John interrupted, the finishing blow to Carver's little show.

“You came all this way, at least have a cookie on us.” Steve said with an appeasing tone, reaching an arm back behind him.

Quick on the uptake, a cookie appeared in his hands. 

He offered it out to the priest, who took it happily.

"Okay, who wants cake!?” He called, in a clear and obvious dismissal of Jason. 

Who stood there, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. 

His eyes slid to Eddie's, fists clenched tightly at his side, hatred pouring off him so strongly one could almost taste it.

Eddie winked at him.

(Unknown to him at the time, Jason had also looked at Steve--and Steve would wink too.)

xXx

Steve Harrington, who Eddie had been an absolute ass all day too, had looked Jason Carver, a Priest and half of Hawkins in the eye and announced that he, Eddie Munson, was a good person at heart.

It made Eddie want to vomit a little when he thought about it too hard.

“I know this is horrible timing,” Robin said, sidling up as the crowd finally dispersed, “but I really, really need to talk to you.” 

Eddie turned, head full of far too many thoughts and ready to tell her such, when he caught sight of Buckley's face. 

Was reminded, by the sheer nervous, ‘horse about to bolt’ vibe, that he owed it to Robin as a fellow queer not to be a dick about her accidental outing.

Even if all he wanted was to preen in the wake of Carver’s defeat. 

‘See Mothers of Hawkins? Your own golden boy just gave me his stamp of approval!’ 

A mental image that immediately changed to Steve Harrington’s name stamped on his ass and dammit he had to get ahold of his thoughts before he fell down rabbit holes like this--!

“Back there, at the stairs,” Robin started, voice dropping low, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her eyes kept seeking out Steve, like he was some kind of safety net--which he probably was. “What um--what did you hear?” 

It took a lot of guts to come talk to him, knowing what he'd overheard--particularly given they'd just fended off the church.

He'd never exactly underestimated Robin Buckley, but then, he'd never expected this level of badassery from her either.

“Eddie?” Robin prodded again, chewing hard on her bottom lip.

“Sorry, distracted.” Eddie waved a hand behind himself. “Not everyday the King decides to defend your honor to a priest.” 

With a little bow, he offered his elbow out to her, a clear signal to take it and let him escort them away from unwanted ears.

In a show of bravery, Robin took his elbow and let him lead, even as she frowned up at him, looking like she was about to say something.

Likely it was in defense of Harrington, but Eddie had been interrupted enough for one day. 

“You and His Highness over there really should be more aware of your surroundings." He started, voice low. "Lucky for you, you’re among friends. You and Dorothy both.” 

He reached a foot out, tapping Robin’s own. 

Right on top of a doodled pair of tits. 

Robin let go of his elbow and glanced down, before flinging her head right back up, panicked.

"I--"

“If you’d like I can pretend I never heard a thing.” Eddie interrupted, dropping his voice into the gentler tone he reserved for delicate conversations.

People were always surprised by the lengths he went to make sure someone was comfortable--but then, people also forgot how often Eddie heard things he shouldn’t. 

People didn't take drugs just for fun, after all.

“Or I can offer a friend of a friend discount on my wares,” He put a finger to his lips, miming smoking with one hand while he opened his vest with the other to flash the little pink triangle pin that sat inside, announcing his own sexualities status.

“and we can, say, discuss the differences between radical and social feminism while admiring the fine forms of Susan Sarandon and Peter Hinwood?”

The smile he gets is two parts relief, one part genuine delight and Eddie grinned right back at her, flicking his vest closed.

“I did not take you for a Peter Hinwood type.” Robin said it hesitantly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Thought you’d find Tim Curry’s…acting skills, more to your taste.”

“In the case of Rocky Horror? I am Tim Curry.” He announced, loud and proud (well for this kind of conversation at least.) 

He was rewarded by the tension finally melting out of Robin’s shoulders. 

(This, Eddie reflected, is what he should have been doing this entire time, instead of getting tied up in knots over Harrington and turning into some kind of non-conformist tyrant.) 

“Do you actually know the differences between social and radical feminism?” Robin challenged, braver now, and Eddie knew then and there he’d been successful in assuring her her secret was safe.

That she was safe, with him.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Eddie said, giving a playful nudge to her shoulder. 

Baths in the laugh he gets for it, and for the first time today feels like he’s finally on firmer ground.

They chatted for a moment longer, making a loop on the very outskirts of the gym, voices hushed when it came to things that small town ears shouldn’t overhear--but of course, Robin couldn’t just leave things at that.

“Hey Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you do me one more favor?”

“Anything for you, my favorite feminist.” 

For the first time since this conversation started, Robin managed to sound firm. 

“Stop referring to Steve as a King.” 

She rushed ahead, anticipating being cut off, and thus Eddie is hit with a wave of words, none of which he’d ever thought he’d hear in relation to thee Steven Harrington. 

“He’s working really hard to get away from it, the whole King thing and how he used to be. I don’t know what all he did to like--you guys,” She flapped her hand in the general direction of Hellfire, “and I know he wasn’t an innocent bystander, but I kinda realized over the summer that I blamed him for a lot of things that were in my own head, and that he wasn’t--he was never as bad as I thought he was and he's still trying to make it up to me anyway.”

Robin trailed off, seeming to try and piece out what she wanted to say next without giving away the whole farm. “It’s not some act, Eddie. Steve’s really trying to change.” 

Which yeah.

Eddie could see that, now. 

Maybe not before but…

“Okay.” He said, after a long, long moment. “No more King Steve. Got it.”

The smile he got for that also felt like a victory, even if it was wrenched out of him.

xXx

Two hours and a dispersed crowd later, Eddie found himself once again stuck in his own head. 

The facts were thus:

Steve Harrington was a good dude. 

He used his good dude-ness to save Hellfire from a literal priest, right smack in front of God and Principal Hairy Ass both

All of Hellfire actually liked him 

According to Robin Buckley, Steve was entirely fine with “all us triangles” quote/unquote 

And;

Eddie was jealous.

He was self aware enough to admit it, alongside the fact that Jason Carver aside, maybe Eddie had been the villain today instead of Steve. 

Which meant he not only owed Harrington an apology, but he owed it to both of them to work out his own stupid shit before it blew up in his face and cost him all his friends.

(He’d have called this move “pulling a Harrington” before today but now that feels mean, which Eddie supposes signals he’s grown as a person or some shit.) 

So now he sits on Steve’s beemer, knowing the move will likely antagonize the ex-jock but equally knowing he’s planning on jumping off the car the second the guy comes near, and that the move itself will get Harrington to listen to him the second he’s done supervising whatever Hellfire’s youngest is doing.

(Eating leftover cookies like the older members are as they finish packing up, Eddie assumes.) 

Ducking out like he did had allowed him some much needed time to think things though. Figure out what he was going to say--without an audience present.

He’d apologize publicly if he had to. But being vulnerable is hard, and given the way his friends had been acting, Steve isn’t the only person he owes an apology to. 

For now, he’ll begin here, without an audience. 

Eddie doesn’t get to plan for long--only gets to rehearse a few lines of his little spiel when a pointed cough jerks him back to reality. 

There stands Steve Harrington, a fat wad of cash in one hand and a box in the other.

Like a man sent to the gallows, Eddie leapt off the beemer, squaring his shoulders. 

He could do this.

 Apologize-- and mean it. 

Not that Steve gave him the chance to. 

“The guys told me to give this to you.” He said, holding out the cash. Then he took a breath, like he was preparing to go to war, and added; 

“I know you weren’t happy with me being here, and you probably don’t want this, but Dustin said you really liked cinnamon brownies so I made you some.” 

The box was now held out alongside the cash, proof that Steve had tried to start this whole thing off on the right foot. 

Eddie stared at it, then at Steve. 

Felt the guilt chew on his gut just that much harder.

“I have been shitty to you all day. Why are you giving me this?” 

Steve shrugged. 

“To be fair I didn’t exactly make it easy on you either. You said jump and I said ‘watch this’.” Steve laughed, a small, almost self depicting sound. “Dustin’s been on my ass all day about it.” 

Of course he had. 

“Mine too.” Eddie admitted. “It's his tone, I swear."

“Yes!” 

Carefully, Eddie reached out, accepted the box and the cash. 

“Thanks by the way. For the stuff you said about me earlier.” 

Steve grimaced, cheeks tinting a (lickable) red. “Yeah sorry, I--”

“No not--not that stuff.’ Eddie said, mentally hauling his thoughts back in line, fiddling with the cash. “The stuff about being a good person. No one’s uh. Said that. About me.”

Not except for Wayne, but Harrington wouldn’t know nor care about Eddie’s uncle. 

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

He’d argue that, except something was off. 

It took Eddie a moment to place it--that the wad Steve handed over was way too big for the little bake sale they’d just attended. 

He tucked the box under his arm, quickly counting the stack with a smoothness only drug dealers and bank tellers could manage.

“It’s all there, I promise.” Steve told him simply, but without judgment. He sounded like he expected this and that didn’t sit right with Eddie either. 

Not that he could do anything about it because he’d just counted up didn’t make any sense. 

Not trusting himself, Eddie stacked it back together, before counting it all again. He was faster this time, trying to figure out among all the ones, fives and tens how the hell they had managed to sell that many cookies. 

Particularly considering the most expensive thing was one of the cakes and he’d watched Steve sell it for fifteen dollars. 

So why were there three twenties sitting in the stack? 

“Either you up charged the absolute shit out of someone’s mom, in which case I congratulate you, you sneaky devil,” Eddie said slowly, “Or you put extra cash in here.” 

Steve blushed properly this time. 

Eddie zeroed in on his face, watching as Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to pull his charming mask into place.

He didn't quite manage it.

Hadn’t even been wearing it before now, Eddie realized suddenly.

This entire conversation Steve had a realness to him that Eddie had never really seen. 

Had maybe not wanted to see, from someone like Harrington. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve protested, like a kid who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “That’s what we charged.” 

“You are a terrible liar.” Eddie accused, hand trembling. “We can’t take this, man. This is a almost two hundred dollars.” 

Way more than what they’d need for Gen Con. It was enough to get them two fuckin’ hotel rooms! 

“If It helps any, I didn’t do it for you.” Steve’s blush slid into something more genuine, as he nodded his head to where Hellfire was spilling out of the gym doors, laughing and shoving one another. 

“They deserve to have a good trip.” He added, eyes fond as he watched Dustin and Mike squabble over how to fold Hellfire's banner.

It made his whole face soften, the harsh features of his jaw turning into something that was so adorable Eddie wanted to bite through it. 

“Do you want to come?” Someone said, and it took both Steve’s startled look and a second long pause for Eddie to realize that someone was him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid-! 

“To the convention?” Steve asked, looking doubtful. 

Pity that Eddie was already nodding, like his brain and his body were at a total disconnect.

Maybe aliens had finally taken him over. Or a demon. 

(Demonic possession could frankly explain a lot about today, Carver’s weird little power play aside.)

“Dude you don’t even like me.” Steve said. “Why would you want me to come along?” 

“I dunno Harrington. All of Hellfire seemed to like you, and not just my freshman.” Eddie countered easily, gliding right over the fact that he himself did like Steve.

Way more than he should, and that right there was half of Eddie’s problem. 

“They have pretty good taste in things.” He waived a hand, as if this wasn’t a complete 180 from how he’d acted all day. “I could understand if you didn’t want to slum it with us nerds though.”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve been slumming it all day with you nerds, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Yeah? What’s your verdict on us?” 

“Not as bad as you could be.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and laughed. “High praise from the King!”

He felt bad immediately after, and made himself promise to be more mindful about Robin’s ask--but  thankfully Harrington didn’t take it hard. 

(Habits, Eddie knew, were hard to change.

Took a lot of careful attention to change. 

He had a long road ahead of him, and he hoped this little olive branch put him a few miles down it.) 

Steve awarded him a small smile. “I haven’t been the King for a long while, man. But if you guys have an opening, I think I wouldn’t mind being a knight or whatever.” 

“Ste-eeeve Harrington, defender of the realm.” Eddie nodded once, decisively. “I can see it.”

He tucked away the cash, and thus missed how Steve looked weirdly contemplative at that. 

Raised his head and stuck out a hand. 

Tentatively, Steve took it. 

“Welcome to the club, Harrington. We meet on Fridays. Bring snacks.” 

“Cookies okay?”

“Going by Gareth’s judgment, they’re more than okay.”

Eddie smiled and Steve smiled back, and God how he hated how fucking cute Harrington’s face was. 

Particularly since he now got to think of the guy as “Steve” without feeling weird about it. 

As in his possible, potential, friend Steve.

What a fucking trip that was. 

“Oh, and Steve?” He called, the thought hitting him as Steve turned to welcome the group making their way to the beemer.

Steve had let his hand fall, turning to open the front door of the Beemer with a cocked eyebrow.

Eddie flicked a finger out, lightly tapping the Hellfire logo. “Tell Lucas I’ll get him another shirt. That one’s all yours, big boy.” 

If there was a pink hue to Harrington’s cheeks, he was blaming sunburn. 

(Two months, six days, and one meddlesome asshole named Henderson later, and Eddie would find out that Steve had in fact, been blushing.

He’d be furious at Dustin’s involvement, if it hadn’t directly led to Eddie finding out Steve’s blush did in fact go down his chest.

And his happy trail.

And his--

Well.

Men do not kiss and tell. 

Not to fucking freshmen, anyway.) 

THERE IS A GEN CON, "THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED BECAUSE DUSTIN IS A MEDDLESOME SHIT" BONUS BUT it's on A03 cause it was long enough to be its own post and I wasn't gonna add it to this one. You can read it here LINK

[donttellunclesam]

drunk walk home: halloween edition

(close ups under the cut)

[cholvoq]

“Softly you stir, Gently you moan

Lust in the air, Wake as I groan

In the dead of night, Love bites”

Literally the most vampire Steddie-coded song ever—

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Here is a little scruffy Eddie to help you get through the day

Please give credit if you repost or use

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie, a thousand-year-old vampire: One either dies a human or lives long enough to become a cradle-robber.

Steve, just reborn eighteen years ago: Really? That's the first thing you're thinking about when we finally meet after many years?

Robin, an elf: I mean he kinda has a point–

[ccscocoapuffs]

KINKTOBER LINE UP

Warning the following content contains 18+ themes. I am not held responsible for your media consumption nor the horniness any of the fics give you LMAO. Without further ado please enjoy This line up. All fics will be linked here when they are released. (All fics will be in headcanon format or a short fic! and not all will be super smutty some may border more on fluffyish)

Day 1- Pegging- Aegon Targaryen

Day 2- Roleplay- Mark Hoffman

Day 3-Overstim- Robb Stark

Day 4-Edging- Crowley

Day 5-Collaring- Daemon Targaryen

Day 6-Chasity- Corey Cunningham

Day 7-Waxplay- Viserys III Targaryen

Day 8-Breeding- Cooper Adams (Trap)

Day 9-Lactation-Aegon Targaryen

Day 10-Praise- Gabriel May

Day 11- Breathplay/Choking- Michael Myers

Day 12-Somnophilia- Bo Sinclair

Day 13- Daddy- Cooper Adams (Trap)

Day 14- Size Kink- Thomas Hewitt

Day 15- Mommy- Brahms Heelshire

Day 16- Mirror- Lady Dimistrescu

Day 17-Threesome- Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Day 18-Spanking- Karl Heisenberg

Day 19-Voyeurism-Damian Priest & Finn Balor

Day 20-Marking (Hickeys, bites, bruises etc.)- Jaime Lannister

Day 21-Dirty Talk- Aemond Targaryen

Day 22- Bondage- Eddie Munson

Day 23- Punishment-Negan

Day 24-Recording-Drew McIntyre

Day 25-Temperature Play- Aemond Targaryen

Day 26- Phone Sex- Mickey Altieri

Day 27- Knife Play-Ethan Landry

Day 28-Fem Dom- Daenerys Targaryen

Day 29- Body Worship- Theon Greyjoy

Day 30-High Heels- Rhaenyra Targaryen

Day 31- Special Surprise (hehehe)

[rose-n-gunses]

I have a post in my drafts about Eddie and Wayne and Hawaiian shirts that I'll post eventually but anyway Judas Priest just launched their summer merch collection and PLEASE tell me Eddie wouldn't buy this

(the very specific version of him in my brain is wearing this and drinking a pbr in a kiddie pool in the front yard of Wayne's trailer)

[wxlfbitez]

i have read many a fanfic where baby steve either looks up to or has a little crush on someone like george michael or bowie in the baby gay phase and i would like to also raise you the fact that this is what the people eddie listens to look like (in the 80s)

just putting that out in the world

[n33dlew0rk]

Bad Boy Boogie

I’m thinking about how in The Dirt they depicted Vince Neil as someone who was not into the alternative scene as much as Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee were.

And I'm thinking about Steve being recruited in some glam rock band in a similar way after he’s been scraping the barrel for a few years because his poor excuse of a father kicked him out and cut him off for being queer:

He’s working dive bars, strip clubs, lame pool parties, whatever gets some food, smokes and the occasional joint on his table. He liked to sing when he was younger, but it was never something he thought would be one of his main income sources in his twenties. So it's like you know whatever, as long as it keeps him alive and kicking.

He’s not very social these days, too busy surviving the late 80’s. But someone from high school still remembers him from his King Steve days, knows what happened because of the typical small town talks + sees him kind of around the scene sometimes, between Indianapolis and Chicago, hears him sing lame slow ballads and chart stuff.

So after some laughs (he does not take the thing seriously at first) and some uncertainty (money is not guaranteed ofc), he gets recruited and slowly starts to fully embody this glam rock sexy kind of androgynous and ambiguously sensual charismatic frontman role.

They do good. Like really good. Papers talk about them, mothers pray clutching their pearls, kids go nuts. Their gigs are sweat, fishnets, smeared make-up, tall boots, short skirts, tight pants.

---

Now cut to Eddie and Corroded Coffin, still a small town band, still dreaming big. But someone in their extended friend circle, probably someone a little bit less socially awkward than them, knows someone in Indi, who knows someone in Chicago, who finally hooks them up to open for a bigger band on a small state tour. Only it's Steve's band.

Eddie is fuming.

Not only did a fucking jock got to get bigger in music faster than him, he also did it in a genre that was not popular among metalheads. Even Metallica had feuds with Mötley Crüe, after all. You know that thin veil of elitism that makes metalheads a real pain in the ass despite how intensely GAY most of Judas Priest’s lyrics are.

By the way, back to Eddie.

Fuming.

He doesn't wanna go. Pleads the guys to please have some integrity, for fuck’s sake. Tries to convince the owners of The Hideout to make them play more nights.

But when money is thrown into it, like actual money, money like a month’s worth of day jobs, he can’t really say no to the proposition.

So they go.

Eddie refuses to even listen to the other band's demos, determined to spend the entire tour playing his own set and then getting blackout drunk in the back of the van for the remainder of the night.

He manages to do just that for the first two nights, until he gets cut off from the free alcohol because the bar owner is a sad greedy bastard.

And since spending a whole evening sober inside a van is not nearly as fun as he thought, he goes back inside, searching for his bandmates, barely managing to move through waves of sweaty half naked people and groupies.

A disappointed growl leaves his throat as the lights go down while he’s still in the middle of the pit. Scorned and absolutely annoyed to the core, he turns towards the stage, fully prepared to boo his way to the side of the room.

So you can imagine how totally and utterly shocked he is when Steve fucking Harrington appears: red cowboy boots under the tightest leather pants ever created by humankind, held together by flimsy flimsy strings on the sides. A brutally ripped white tank top (more like a sad reminder of it) under a goddamned leather harness with spikes and chains, all of this on top of his hairy, toned (is that glitter??) chest. Black make-up beautifully ruined under his rich brown eyes, a shadow of red lipstick on his lips. A black bandana tied around his forehead like a crown over his messy mullet (still rich in volume, that’s a magic trick the king still brings along for the journey).

Eddie feels like a lost greek sailor hearing the sirens for the first time.

Mouth: dry.

Hands: sweaty.

Jeans: dangerously tight.

The place feels like a fucking furnace and he cannot, for the love of all things unholy, tear his gaze away from Steve’s body, his face, the way he cups the microphone, how he grinds on the mic stand, how he falls onto his knees during guitar solos panting in front of his guitarist.

Lastly, I'm thinking about when the show is over and a phantom trace of Eddie’s rationality tries to persuade him that Steve will turn back into his jock self, preppy clothes and all, like a rock'n'roll Cinderella; but instead Steve smiles big to the crowd, tears the bandana from his head, wipes away some of the sweat from his neck and then stuffs the very same black bandana right into his right back pocket.

Gareth and Jeff literally have to drag poor Eddie out of the venue because his knees are so wobbly they stopped working indefinitely.

[blessyouhawkeye]

need to find out whatever stranger things costume designer made the choice to have eddie munson flagging in rural indiana in 1986 and shake their hand, send them flowers, maybe even kiss them directly on the lips because hey? that's so funny. it's made even funnier that he COMMITS to flagging so hard to the point that he at one point asks max if she has a mask or bandana he can wear as a disguise despite having one in his back pocket. yeah he's wanted for several murders but god help him if he's going to risk another fag seeing him and not knowing he's gay. the only time it comes out of his back pocket is when they're actively going into battle in the upside down, where there are no potential gay hotties. my personal hero.

[edsforehead]

Forgive me Father for I have sinned

A lil triptych inspired by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple’s priest!eddie series. My first time using procreate :) My goal was to not show anything explicitly, and draw seemingly normal scenes that suggest something more.

[strangersatellites]

saw a tiktok recently where this girl’s bf got her a bracelet made out of guitar strings donated by one of her favorite artists that had been used to record her favorite song. it’s this company called the guitar wrist and they make all kinds of jewelry.

something something- steve buys eddie an engagement ring made from the strings metallica used to record master of puppets

[attentionthisisarobbery]

Eddie Munson’s Bandana: An Analysis

Content Warning: discussion of flagging, sex, sexual preferences, HIV/AIDS, drugs

Y’know, I’ve seen a million takes on the handkerchief Eddie has in his back pocket. I’ve seen people who prefer Eddie as a top in fanworks point at it and say, “there’s your proof, no point in denying it.” On the other hand, I’ve seen people who prefer him as a bottom say that he is unaware of the implications of the bandana, or simply write his bandana to be in his other pocket. I even saw a fanfic where it was because Eddie didn’t know his left from his right.

But I think there could be more subtly to it. As a gay guy, I gotta tell you, there’s a million reasons for Eddie to have that bandana in his pocket.

One is the obvious — he’s flagging his preferences so other queer men know what he’s looking for. The pocket he wears it in canonically would indicate that he prefers a top/dominant role in the bedroom. Now that could meant submissive top or dominant bottom, not just dominant top. The color is another issue. A black hanky is indeed representative of S/M, but in the 80s, around the time of the HIV/AIDS crisis, black and white hankies were worn to represent safe sex. Basically, “Hey, it’s cool if we hook up as long there’s protection.” Does Eddie have handcuffs hanging in his room? Yeah. Would that indicate an interest in S&M? Yeah. But the black and white hanky DID have another meaning at the time the story takes place.

Another option is that Eddie wants other queer people to think he’s a top, even if he may not identify that way. As a short king myself, I have to say that in certain situations (see: gay bars), I tend to attract more aggressive guys. By dressing and acting in a more aggressive, masculine way, I can sort of deter those kinds of guys when I’m not looking to hook up. I found that was less true when I lived in San Francisco, but while living in a small town (like Hawkins), I see a lot more of that “masculine tops” and “feminine bottoms” mentality. Also a lot more of the “no such thing as a true switch” mentality. Now, I’m not old enough to tell you what it was like to be queer in the 80s, but there wasn’t nearly as much information about being gay back then. You could only learn from other individuals — no looking up how gay sex works on Google. So it wouldn’t shock me if that whole “who’s the man in the relationship?” thing was something queer folks had to reckon with way more than we do now. Basically, for Eddie, that bandana could be a sign to other queer folks that he’s a safe person to talk to, while simultaneously working as a deterrent to “doms” who wouldn’t know safe, sane, and consensual is it slapped them on the ass. And, even today, there’s a lot of those.

Or, given Eddie’s, er, career path, it could be a sign to potential buyers. If you’ve never been a gay man, you might never have heard of poppers. In the 80s, it was known as the gay drug. And honestly, it still sort of is today. In a queer space, you can say poppers and everyone will know what you’re talking about, but I’ve mentioned it to straight friends and had to explain it, since they’d never heard of them. I’m one of those so-sober-he’s-boring people. I’ve never done recreational drugs, and I rarely drink. I’m often the designated driver, and I’m happy ordering a Shirley temple at the bar while my friends get sloshed. And I still know about poppers. The idea is to make anal sex more comfortable and enjoyable. So, by flagging, Eddie could be signaling that it’s safe to ask him for some.

If Eddie is flagging for non-sexual reasons — just trying to signal to other queers that he’s safe — the pocket he chooses could be incidental. What if he’s a switch? I’ve read articles saying that you can take a bunch of bandanas, tie them together, and wear them like a belt to show you’re a switch, but as far as I can tell, that wasn’t a thing back then. Whether or not it should be a thing now, from a fashion standpoint, is another issue. Something that I like about Eddie is that he does actively go out of his way to create a safe space for other “freaks.” It’s a really endearing part of his character, so flagging without sex being his actual goal makes sense for him.

The last possibility I want to address here is probably something that angst writers will eat up. I’m gonna tell a personal story here, just heads up. What if Eddie has been TOLD that he is a top? I was in a long-term relationship with this guy — I mean we were living together and talking about marriage, adopting kids, it was serious. And he basically said that I was bad at bottoming. Really, he just wanted me to top all the time, but he got it in my head that I wasn’t a good bottom, that I made unattractive faces, or it took me too long, or fucking whatever, but after we called it quits, I didn’t have sex for four years. Because I thought that the way I enjoyed having sex wasn’t enjoyable for my partner. If Eddie did have a partner who made him feel insecure about his preferences, he could be flagging as a top, maybe even believing that he is a top, because his experiences bottoming haven’t been great. In truth, he could be a switch, or hell, just a straight up bottom, but not want anyone knowing about that side of him.

Finally, just to wrap this up, I want to point out that this was all just food for thought, not what I see as the “correct” way of viewing Eddie’s bandana. Basically, I just wanted to show writers that they don’t have to say Eddie didn’t know he was flagging if they want him to bottom in their fics. I honestly think the fanfiction community gets hung up on top vs bottom way more than is actually realistic. While I am one of those people who does have a definite preference, I think I’ve run into more switches than tops OR bottoms, doms OR subs. And at the end of the day, we’re all just getting off to fictional characters, trying to find content that caters to our own preferences, so there’s absolutely no reason to fight each other about it.

Aaaaaand that’s that. I’m curious what you guys think about all this, so feel free to comment or shoot me a message or something.

Update: @nam-draws reminded me that Eddie’s bandana has implications in the metal scene as well, I wanted to talk about those as well!

So, one of the bands that we see Eddie likes a lot is Judas Priest. He’s got a pin on his vest and two posters in his room. Their lead singer, Rob Halford, is a homosexual man — he officially came out in 1998, but he had a coming out song, Raw Deal, way back in ‘77, that he said queer fans recognized for what it was while going over the heads of straight fans. Halford wore a bandana in his back pocket whenever he performed, and some metalheads started wearing them as well, trying to emulate his fashion. He contributed hugely to metal fashion; according to Rob Halford himself, the aesthetic of his outfits on stage came from the San Francisco gay BDSM scene in the 70s.

In the photo above, you can see what his look entailed. Note the handcuffs! We see that Eddie has handcuffs hanging in his room, not to mention his belt buckle. It could mean that he’s into BDSM, or it could be in homage to one of his favorite musicians. That’s another way authors can play with the implications of his costume and set design — maybe Eddie is super kinky, or maybe he just wants to emulate Rob Halford! It’s up to you. So maybe Eddie wears his bandana like that as part of his metal fashion instead of his queer fashion. After all Rob Halford ensured that the two would have significant overlap for half a century to come! There is another musician who Eddie could be paying tribute to (although I think it’s less likely for reasons I’ll get into in a bit).

James Hetfield, co-founder, lead vocalist, and rhythm guitarist of Metallica also wears a bandana in his back pocket on stage, but not for flagging purposes. He claims that he shouts into the bandana before a show, so if he loses his voice on stage, he’ll always have an extra yell in his back pocket. Just for reference, Judas Priest released their first album in September of 1974, but didn’t get mainstream traction until their Sin After Sin album released in April 1977. Metallica, on the other hand, released their first album in 1983, and didn’t see commercial success until their Master of Puppets album released in 1986. It’s also worth noting that Metallica hasn’t found its way onto Eddie’s battle vest yet, likely because he discovered them recently. Basically I’m saying that if Eddie really is emulating either Halford or Hetfield, Halford makes more sense from a timeline standpoint.