Call me Kittie || Iām Eddie Munsonās wife and you canāt convince me otherwise Legit teen in the actual 80s = definitely NOT a minor F, bi/omni, āæļø, chronically spoon-deficient (iykyk) || 18+ content so minors DNI
Hi, hello, Iām Kittie and Iām obsessed with Stranger Things. In my head Iām married to Eddie Munson. I write for Eddie Munson and Steddie, plus Corroded Coffin and very occasionally Joseph Quinn. I'm percolating ideas for other characters too, including Scott Clarke and the girls. Iām very friendly so please feel free to message or āaskā š and come be feral in my inbox about our favourite blorbos. If you enjoy what I write please let me know! I have general and series taglists, if youād like to be on any just drop me a comment, ask or message šš
My pronouns, etc.: She/her/they, cis F, bi/omni
More about me: I still feel relatively new to all this and I'm old IRL so I feel simultaneously like a matriarch and a baby, and I've not been writing for long so if I get things wrong please be kind. I have diverse interests and experiences including science (especially biology), dance, sci-fi/fantasy, true crime, glitter, anatomy, cats and pink. I have chronic illnesses of various flavours and recently discovered I'm ADD, and I'm totally down for chatting and supporting others going through similar things. I am a safe blog and do not tolerate hate, bigotry or discrimination, and I hope to keep my reader inserts as neutral as possible (feel free to call me out if I could do better).
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Asks: OPEN || Inbox: ALWAYS OPEN || WIPs: GROANING AT THE SEAMS š«£ || Long fic requests: CURRENTLY CLOSED
Fiction Masterlists:
Eddie Munson
Steddie
Corroded Coffin
Joseph Quinn
Story Synopses/ WIP Graveyard
Stranger Things Bears
Non-ST writings:
If You Go Down To The Woods Today Freaky happenings in a forest featuring OC/RPG characters
Fic recs:
This section is a work in progress, but here are some to start you off:
Writers and artists whose work stays with me always
Authors and fics
Eddie fluff recs
Some of my fave authors
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I welcome transformative works based off of my fan works! This could be art, edited images, translations, podfics, anything really! You donāt need to ask permission, but youāre absolutely more than welcome to go feral in my inbox about ideas. I do ask that you please tag tf out of me in WIPs and finished projects so I can see šŗ (And if youāre a minor Iād ask you to contact me first so we can discuss what content, if any, is appropriate). A note for fanbinders specifically: Please only share non-editable typeset files (such as PDFs) with other fans. Itās okay to send typeset files to a service for printing.
And in case it needs to be said, I DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, edited, shared elsewhere (without asking first), otherwise plagiarised, or fed into any AI plagiarism machines
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rated T | written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt āthreeā + 333 words | slice of life, injury, being goofballs as always
ā
Three. Thatās how many front teeth Eddie knocks out of his head trying to pull off some boneheaded trick at the skate park. āOwwwww,ā he whines pitifully from the back seat of Steveās car where heās got his head in Robinās lap, the sound muffled behind a bag of frozen peas pressed to his mouth.
āYeah, well,ā Steve says, stepping harder on the gas. Eddieās teeth are in his pocket. āThatās what you get for trying to impress a little girl.ā
āExcuse you,ā Max glares from the passenger seat. āIām fifteen tomorrow.ā
āYouāre a baby.ā
āI have tits!ā
āEw.ā Steve doesnāt want to think about her tits, for godās sake.
āSteve,ā Robin chides, adjusting Eddie in her lap as they round the last corner into town. āDonāt body shame.ā
Max ignores her. āWhatever.ā She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. āIt wasnāt even impressive.ā
āHey!!ā Eddie sits up; takes the bag off his mouth to protest; ends up spraying blood across the roof of Steveās car as they go over a speed bump. Goddammit. Goddammit, heās lucky Steve would do anything for him.
Steve scowls at him in the rearview and pulls up to the dentistās office. āYouāre cleaning that up.ā
ā
They get Eddie in to see the dentist surprisingly quickly.
Steve goes back with him, hangs out at the edge of the exam room and horrifies the assistant when he fishes three teeth roots-and-all out of the blood-stained front pocket of his jeans. Eddieās all loopy on laughing gas so they can reimplant the two front teeth ā āweāll need to replace the lateral incisorā ā and the whole ridiculous ordeal is kinda worth it when, at the end of the appointment, just the two of them alone in a tiny room, Eddie looks up at Steve like he hung the moon, gives him a big gap-toothed smile, and says āheyā like āI love you.ā
He reaches out to hold Steveās pinky. āThanks.ā
sometimes it just hits me like wow. we all fell so disproportionately in love with this silly little comic relief side character from one season of a tv show that we have dedicated hours and hours of our actual lives to giving him interiority and complexity and history and countless variations + interpretations and putting him through all kinds of situations and adventures and AUs and good times and bad times etc... and it never gets old because we are in love with him.
Thank you so much to all of you who are still writing about him and giving him all those precious moments and happy life he deserved. I seriously don't know what I'd do without your stories. Never stop sharing your writing and your love for him ā¤ļø
to be clear, I believe younger artists and minors can write good fics (not to say āfanfic must always be goodā either because it is a hobby and I still believe that as long as itās done with love and the artistās joy, it is good) and I believe itās good when younger artists and minors start making art at young ages.
that said, a lot of fanfics out there that you read and love are done by adults with kids, jobs and responsibilities. adults who have years, decades of practice under their belts. adults who donāt let life and responsibilities take away their joy in creating.
someoneās love and passion donāt suddenly go away the second they reach a certain age. so if anything, I feel sorry for people who say āadults shouldnāt write fanfics or make fan artā because what these people really say is that they expect themselves to stop having fun and finding comfort in things that bring them joy and comfort the second they reach a certain age. itās sad that they put an expiration date on their own fun and source of comfort.
For I wish you would write a fic where gameāSteve has a little bit of a flashback to something while theyāre in bed but is trying so hard to not let Eddie know and not ruin their night
In retrospect I'm not toooootally this fits what you asked for, but I tried. So did Steve but tbh I think Eddie did a better job than both of us.
1,578 words. (also on ao3)
(i wish you would write a fic where)
Itās the night after the Fourth of July, and Steve figures he should be safe. Itās a fucking Tuesday, who fires off leftover fireworks on a Tuesday? People have work and shit. And theyāre at Steveās house because Forrest Hills is a lot more prone to kids running around with firecrackers at the best of times. What are the fucking chances?
He hasnāt mentioned anything about the fireworks to Eddie because, like, itās stupid. If Eddie sees a bat swooping around dusk he freaks out, but that makes sense because he was literally almost killed by bats. Steve, on the other hand, got the shit beaten out of him and drugged out of his skull by evil Russiansā¦ and freaks out about stuff that didnāt happen until hours after that, and he didnāt even get hurt during that part.
But not long after Eddie sinks into him for the very first time, Steve hears that telltale whistle followed by a high boom, and suddenly every muscle in his body is winched tight. Suddenly everything is so loud, from Eddieās moan in his ear to every pop, whistle, and crack of artificial thunder that some jackass nearby is shooting off into the night sky.
āOh g-god Steve,ā Eddie gasps, his hips jerking faster andā
Steve is just cold, frozen goddamn through. He isnāt sure how much time has passed, only that his chest feels tight and each breath comes so fast itās accompanied by a twinge in his side. His ribs hurt, his head hurts, he works forā
āSteve? Did you notā¦? Hey, are you okay? ā¦ Steve, can you hear me?!ā
Someone is gripping his shoulders hard and Steve has his eyes screwed shut as he rasps, āS-scoops, I work forā¦ Scoops Ahoyā¦ā
He hears cursing, but in American not Russian. The pressure on his chest lets up and hands cradle his face, calloused butā¦ he knows those hands, can feel skin-temperature metal against his jaw. When he opens his eyes, tears of relief start to leak out.
āThere you are,ā Eddie breathes, his hair wild and damp and his face still flushed. āFuck, baby, are you okay? Did I hurt you?ā
Steve shakes his head. It wasnāt Eddie who had hurt him, the evil Russians had done that. Doctor was going to pry his fingernails offāhe curls his fingers protectively into his palms.
Thereās a pop-fizzle of the sparkly kind of fireworks outside and he flinches again. Eddie sees it this time, face falling in grim understanding. Realizing that the whole Forth of July thing is rearing itās ugly head, even though itās 1988 and Steve should be over this by now, what the fuck is wrong with himā
Eddie is cradling him in both arms, Steve resting on his chest where a moment ago theyā¦ theyād been in the opposite position, more or less, hadnāt they? Hand with the fewest rings smoothing over Steveās hair, repetitive and soothing. Murmuring reassurances that donāt make any sense to Steveās scrambled brain. Because heās concussed again, isnāt he? No. No, that was three years ago. He wasnāt naked and sticky after being tortured.
Blood didnāt get sticky, it gets tacky. Important distinction. Importantā¦ ish.
Eddie is humming something in Steveās ear, possibly Master of Puppets. It helps drown out the deafening static of waiting for more fireworks.
āEds,ā Steve sobs, forcing his hands to uncurl so he can grab on and, and warn him. āWe have toāgo, not safe, th-the vents, Dustin andāTheyāre just kids, itās, this is all m-my faultāā
āTheyāre safe, theyāre safe,ā Eddie assures him quickly, cupping his cheek and tilting up until their eyes meet. Steve can see him through both eyes; this is important. āRobin too. Everyoneās okay, itās all okay, itās over.ā
Steve tries to nod, but his eyes well up again and his throat feels too tight. āIt keeps coming back.ā
āI know baby, but not anymore. We ended it. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down was destroyed for good.ā
With a shuddering breath, Steve tries to internalize all that. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Dustin is safe. Erica is safe. Robin is safe. Itās 1988. Vecna is deadā¦
Thereās another bang outside and Eddie starts humming again, loud, while petting Steveās hair. Just holding and rocking him.
Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Dustin is safe. Erica is safe. Robin is safe. Itās 1988, not ā85 or ā86. Eddie is alive.
Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Eddie is alive. Itās 1988. Steve is naked. Eddie is naked. They wereā
āOh my god,ā Steve whines, clutching at him tighter, mortification threading through the dread in his veins. āOh my god I r-ruined it. Eddie Iāmāā
āNothing ruined,ā Eddie interrupts gently. āIām sorry I didnāt realize what was happening sooner, sweetheart. Iāll, uhā¦ Iāll get you cleaned up in a second here, you just focus on breathing. Okay? In and out, with me. Feel that? Inā¦ and outā¦ā
Steve just tries to breathe. His ribs hurt. They donāt. His head hurts. It doesnāt. Eddie is holding him and rocking him and showing him how to breathe like a person instead of pure panic with arms and legs.
Heās tired. Itās all so much.
The Upside Down is dead. Itās 1988 Everyone is safe, and alive. Eddie is here. Eddie is holding him. In and out. The Upside Down is dead. The Russians are long gone. Steve is naked and safe. Eddie is safe. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The fireworks will end. This isnāt Starcourt. In. Out. In. Itās 1988ā¦
Heās so fucking tired.
By the time Steve feels steady again heās cold, and Eddie is already pulling the blankets up in answer to his shivering. He grumbles wordlessly into Eddieās chestāthe mess thatās dripped out from his hole has long cooled and is probably getting on things that might not have needed to go in the laundry otherwise.
āBaby,ā Eddie responds with a ghost of a chuckle, ādonāt worry about it, Iām gonna strip the whole bed in a minute anyway. As soon as I get you in a warm bath, mākay?ā
āBut we wereā¦ We were going toā¦ā He holds back a sniffle. āFor the first time.ā
āWeāre gonna have a new first time later,ā Eddie tells him with a kiss to his forehead. āOne without projectile explosives whistling through the air. I promise.ā
Steve pulls back a little to squint at him. āI feel like you should be more mad at me.ā
āOkay? Wellā¦ā Eddie gives a halfhearted little shrug from where heās half propped up on the headboard, arms slung low and loose around Steveās waist, holding him without any impression of restraint because he knows about the Russian torture stuff. The broad strokes, anyway. āIām not.ā
āYouāre all red,ā Steve presses, a different sort of distress making his pulse pick up again. Because Eddie is blushingāand itās not the cute bashful kind, itās the avoiding eye contact and chewing on the inside of his cheek kind. Frowning, Steve musters his little remaining energy and starts to pick himself up, rising onto his knees. āIf youāre mad at me I wish youād justāā
Eddie groans and spares a hand to press over his burning face, andāAre those tears in his eyes? āOh my god, Steve, Iām not mad. You got all tense and Iā¦ thoughtā¦ you were, yāknow, finishing, and I came. I came in my boyfriend while he was having a panic attack, like an asshole. I feel like you should be mad at me.ā
It takes a moment for that to sink in, and Steve is tired. What were the chances there would be fireworks, all the way out here, tonight? Or the chances of Eddie surviving the demobats attack. Or the chances of Eddie kissing him for the first time. Or the chances of it working out, of them making it all the way to this, of Steve clinging on instead of lashing out, ofā¦ anything. What were the chances of being born?
Christ, his thoughts get weird when heās this tired.
He sinks from his knees back down onto his side, leaned against Eddie again, and sighs, āWouldnāt I be the asshole, and youād be the dick?ā
āIā¦ā Eddie blinks too-rapidly down at him as Steve rubs a cheek sleepily against the remaining tattoo fragments across his scarred chest. āI guess?ā
āOkay,ā Steve says, as if that settles that. It does, for now. The pounding in his head and chest have stopped and thatāalong with just wanting to be held stillāis about all he has the energy to care about. āWeāre both getting in the warm bath. Do the bed when we get out. Please?ā
He lifts his head, angling for a kiss, for comfort, and Eddie immediately gives it to him. Soft and searching, like theyāre both simultaneously checking that the other is okay and they havenāt messed anything up.
Eddie is safe, and heās Steveās safe place, and no one is hurt or dead (except for the monsters, who should be). Maybe Steve will be more upset about spacing out through the technical loss of his guy virginity, or whatever, but for now this is enough.
Theyāll try again later.
When the leftover fireworks have all been used up.
Permanent tag list (ask to be added removed): @a-drop-of-magic @cosycryptid @gambita7x @grtwdsmwhr @hamiltonswiftie
important reminder that most people you follow online are significantly lamer than you think they are including me. and if you feel insecure comparing yourself to someone online: DON'T. theyre probably also lame and weird. most people on the internet are
Having friends on tumblr is really great. I often refer to you guys in real life as āmy friend from england/autralia/california/new yorkā and it makes people think Iām very well traveled when really Iāve just spent a lot of time on the Internet.
Oooh this is fun! Have some completely random ones to go wild with:
Steddie+soul mates+too many beds+good friend Carol Perkins?
Yes!
(send me a ship and 3 ao3 tags and Iāll make a little scenario for it)
Okay, soulmates au where you have the first thing you hear your soulmate say (not necessarily to you) written somewhere on your body in their handwriting.
Steve and Carol haven't talked since high school but she's pretty familiar with the scrawl on the back of Steve's wrist that declares something silly but non-identifying. She studied hotel management and hasn't spoken to Tommy H. since she surprise visited him at his college only to catch him in bed with a dude, laughing in his face when he followed her trying to insist that it didn't mean he was gay and that he still wanted to date her. (First of all, no way was she staying involved in that hot mess. Second, she has since discovered how fun it is to fool around with girls and the hearts dotting the i's on her soulmate's handwriting hidden on her inner thigh now makes a lot more sense.)
Anyway, it's been years. So Carol shocked to see Steve one night, checking into her hotel with Eddie the Freak Munsonāwho signs the guestbook in a scrawl she recognizes, holy shit. She makes eye contact with Steve and instinctively gets that he's seen her notice it, that he desperately does not want her to say anything, and that Eddie must have no idea.
An hour or two after they check in, Steve wanders back into the lobby. Carol pulls out the small bottle of liquor she keeps in the desk during slow night shifts and doctors both their coffees and they chat. They exchange their stories of self-discovery like it's hot gossip, and yeah, Eddie has no idea because Steve doesn't want to risk their friendship. But Steve is also completely head over heels.
Carol is very aware that they're in a room with two twin bedsāwhich is obviously one too many for anything to happen. After a while she takes pity on him and passes him a tampon from her purse. "Go back to your room and flush this," she advises with a smirk. "Since you're both guys it'll just get written off as something the previous occupants did. When the toilet overflows, I'll get you a room with just a queen bed so you two can get all cosy. Turn on the charm, cuddle up, and see what happens. And if it doesn't go well, you can always come back out here to the open arms of Jim Beam."
She doesn't know if he'll have the nerve to do it, but she hopes so. One of Eddie's rings had slipped while he was signing the book and she'd caught a peek of Steve's cramped scribble across one of his knuckles. š
Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed): @a-drop-of-magic @cosycryptid @gambita7x @grtwdsmwhr @hamiltonswiftie
@iridescentrylandgrace I always love your tags, have I told you that lately? ā¤ļø
I love āhave at theeā for the words on Steveās wrist, and maybe he heard them his freshman year when he was still trying to get in good with the popular jock crowd so once he realized it was that weird sophomore guy he started wearing a watch to cover it up. Still feels kinda guilty about that which is why heād never bought weed directly from Eddie before s4 and still hasnāt made a move until now. But heād always kind of liked the playfulness of the words, and even as a freshman privately kind of hoped he could at least get to know Eddie someday.
Eddieās words would have to be pretty short to fit under a ringā¦ Maybe he was horsing around with his friends in the hallway one day in his second senior year and Tommy comes around a corner on a tear and zeros in on the school freaks for some stress relief, and Eddie hears the fallen King Steve mutter āah shitā under his breath before moving to intercept. That day Tommy made himself feel better by ragging on Steve instead.
None of Eddieās friends heard it, but heād been covering up the words for years already because, well. He just always figured heād say some words that appear on someone elseās skin and immediately hear an āah shitā of disappointment as they realize. So no one else knows realizes that Steve is his soulmate. The following year Dustin Henderson arrives to constantly talk Steve up, and the tips of Eddieās ears go bright red every time because heās thinking of the day Steve diverted a bully for some nerds he didnāt even know. Heās not holding out hope that Steve has his words on his skin, making his peace with just being friends and loving him from armās reach.
Steve does take Carolās advice and puts the tampon in the toilet, but it doesnāt work right away. He flushes and stares down at the swirling bowl, disappointed when nothing happens butā¦ thatās fate for you. An hour or so later Eddie shuffled into the bathroom and ends up screeching an unfortunately literal āoh SHITā when the toilet overflows. Heās muttering to Steve as they go into their new room that Carol mustāve recognized him and given them the room with the finicky plumbing on purpose, only to stop short when he sees this one only has one bed.
āItās late, letās just crash, come on,ā Steve encourages with a yawnānot even faked. Heās sleepy, but thereās no way heās going to just nod off when Eddie is so close. So warm. He scoots closer as an experiment, and when Eddie doesnāt protest he does it again.
Eddie is dying a little bit. It feels like heaven to have Steve this close, practically cuddling up, but heās acutely aware that he doesnāt get to have this. And basically Steve is scooting towards him back to front, making Eddie the big spoonāgod, he wants nothing more than to wrap an arm around his friendās waist, pull him even closer, and inhale the scent of Steveās fancy-pants shampoo straight from his head. Thinks he could get high off it, if heās not already. He wants to roll over in self-preservation but heās stuck, body too heavy under the stiff hotel sheets. Suddenly all too aware that his rings are on the bedside table and his words are bare in the dark room.
Steve wishes heād been brave enough to do this facing Eddie, so he could see the other manās reaction. Such an expressive faceāhe loves the way Eddie wears his heart on his sleeve, in most situations except for when heās DMing. So Steve decides to be brave, despite knowing that if he messes this up heās going to go sleep in the bathtub or something out of humiliation, and rolls over.
Straight into Eddieās arms. He hadnāt realized he was that close, and opens his mouth to apologize only to pause when he realized thatās where Eddieās eyes have zeroed in. Pausing, he licks his lips and watches Eddie track that too. Deciding again to be brave, he murmurs, āHi.ā
āHey Stevie,ā Eddie whispers back, transfixed. āCanāt sleep?ā
āNo. Um. Can I ask you something?ā
āAnything.ā
āDo youā¦ Do you ever think about soulmate stuff? Like, finding yours?ā
Eddieās breath catches in his throat. āYeah, wellāI, um, kinda already know mine.ā
āOh.ā Steve wills his face not to fall, figuring that either means Eddieās soulmate is someone else or itās him but Eddie hasnāt brought it up before because he doesnāt want it to be. āIs thatā¦ Um, anyone good?ā
āThe best,ā Eddie replies earnestly, hope blooming foolishly in his chest. āHeās, uh, pretty out of my league though.ā
At least itās a he. Steve had been pretty sure Eddie liked guys, and at least now he knows his radar for that sort of thing isnāt total shit. A consolation prize for when he has to go out looking for someone to fill the void when Eddie inevitably rejects him. āIf he doesnāt want you heās an idiot. Youāre great, the leagues donāt know what theyāre talking about.ā
āOh yeah? Leagues are just like that?ā Eddie teases to cover how flustered he is. A big chunk of that is due to Steve not freaking out that heās gayābut then, there is Robin. She might have inoculated him against that kind of shock. āCareful big boy, flattery works with me.ā
Steve bites his lip. āWhat if I want to flatter you, Eds? What ifā¦ What if I think youāre really great, and Iād do anything to keep you around, any way I can get?ā
āYouāve got me, Steve. Iām not going anywhere.ā
Written for the first of the @steddiemicrofic 3rd year anniversary celebration prompts, three | WC: 333 | Rating: E | POV: Steddie, but ambiguous | CW: 18+, SMUT, NSFW, MDNI, explicit sexual content, allusions to homophobia
Steddie masterlist | General masterlist
āBaby, it's our third anniversary. I know you can do this. Will you try? For me?ā
āPlease, Iā I don't know if I can.ā
His voice is strained, he sounds in pain. But he loves his boyfriend, so he's willing to try.Ā
It's been a hard three years.Ā
To start with, they dallied around each other for ages, too shit scared to admit how they felt in case the other didn't reciprocate, and wasting so much time in the process.Ā
Then, they had to navigate coming out to their friends, revealing their relationship, and deciding how much affection they could safely express in public.Ā
After, there was the excitement, and anxiety, around shared accommodation, not least the necessity and extra expense of renting a two-bed lest people asked questions.Ā
But it's also been amazing. Joyful. Wondrous. Having a loving boyfriend to come home to, to build a life with, and give just as much love back to in return? Worth it.
But this boyfriend isn't above asking for demanding what feels like the impossible.
Heās already made him cum twice. First with his mouth on their shared sofa, cumming in his pants as he humped himself against his leg.Ā
Then again in the shower as they cleaned up, this time with fingers in his ass as his wet body trapped his still-sensitive cock between his belly and the cold tile.Ā
And now, as his beau rails him into their shared mattress, their hard work and adoration and devotion flowing between them, he falls over the precipice one final time as the love of his life spills inside of him.
He's rewarded with tender kisses peppered all over his sweaty, aching body, knowing the aftercare will be just as sweet. And yet his boyfriend is still somehow of the opinion that he's the lucky one, as he squeezes his ass cheek one last time and mumbles into the crook of his neck,
āThank you, baby. I knew you could do it. Best. Gift. Ever.ā
Thanks so much for reading!
Who did you put where? (I couldn't decide so I thought I'd let you choose š)
A/N: Hmm, I only have 333 words for this most meaningful of microfics, what shall I concentrate on? *slams hand on table* SMUUUTTT!!!
