#eddie month

[ent-is-indecisive]

id : a digital drawing of steve and eddie sleeping tangled in a messy college dorm. the style is very sketchy, the colors are indigo, pink and peach./end id

oct 10 : college / loser denial for @eddiemonth

the eepies, what a loser mess

(other colors /!\ bright under the cut. ty gradient map)

#stranger things #birdsongisland #steddie #eddie month #eddie munson #steve harrington

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th:  Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all. 

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention. 

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch. 

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl. 

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house? 

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.” 

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around. 

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington. 

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one. 

The jumpscare. 

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers. 

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds. 

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–” 

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!” 

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile. 

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it. 

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!” 

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him. 

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose. 

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned. 

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.” 

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back. 

“Thanks.” 

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms. 

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?” 

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes. 

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely. 

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man. 

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?” 

“Krusty knows everything.” 

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement. 

Nothing’s real in a haunted house. 

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead. 

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache. 

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that. 

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair. 

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand. 

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.” 

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.” 

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later. 

They’ve gotten him this far. 

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious. 

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.” 

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open. 

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly. 

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb. 

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair. 

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times. 

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.” 

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house. 

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.” 

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown. 

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away. 

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.” 

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #please consider reblogging if you enjoy! <333

[stevesjockstrap]

Eddie Month day 8

prompt: rockstar & confident

Eddie looked up into the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. 

“Hey there, easy, don’t try to get up yet. Can you tell me how many fingers you see?” The beautiful man came more into frame. There might’ve been a couple of him. 

“Eight? Or maybe six?” He answered confidently. “Are you my husband?” The man sucked in a breath and looked away, searching for something. Eddie didn’t like that. “I don’t care how many fingers you have, gorgeous. That doesn’t matter at all to me. The more the merrier-“

“Get someone, I don’t understand why they don’t have medical or someone. He’s definitely concussed. Because I know, okay? Just, ugh, stop arguing with me and go find someone in charge. Or try to flag down someone on stage.”

Eddie had no idea what was happening, but his very hot husband seemed to be handling everything. He laid back and continued to stare up at him. There was a sharp pain on his temple and a dull ache in his head and his left wrist, but that couldn’t matter much. 

“Forgive me baby, but I seem to have forgotten your name.” He smirked up at him. He reached a hand out to the middle person as his vision swam. That was fine, too. 

The beautiful man knelt back down next to him and took his hand. “I’m Steve. You didn’t know my name before, though. We sort of just met. You fell off the stage during a sound check. And no one seems to give a fuck that you’re hurt and probably have a concussion.” That seemed like a lot. His temple pulled tight and he hissed when he tried to frown to think. “Don’t worry, though. I’m going to take care of you.”

“I’m not worried, Stevie.” He pulled their connected hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of his husband’s. “You always take such good care of me.”

“Oh man,” he heard him sigh. They were so in love. Eddie smiled and closed his eyes. It hurt to try to focus on the multiples of Steve and the people moving around behind him. 

“What’s going on?” Someone with a stern voice made him jump some time later. He opened his eyes and saw Steve was still kneeling with him, so he closed his eyes again. He didn’t have to worry, Steve would handle it. 

“He fell off the stage and hit his head. No one even came to check on him. He’s out of it and confused and probably concussed. He’s seeing at least double and he thinks- um, he thinks he knows me and he doesn’t.”

He perked up at that. “Well I think I would know my own husband!”

The new guy blinked at him then turned back to Steve. “Okay. An ambulance is on its way. Do you think we can get him over to the parking lot? It’s going to be a mess to try to get a stretcher through the crowd.”

Steve mumbled something under his breath that sounded like a combination of very creative swear words and Eddie chuckled. His husband was such a hard ass. 

“We can try but if he gets dizzy or worse we’re stopping and you’re just going to have to do something to get a stretcher here. How do you plan a festival with zero medical staff? This is fucking ridiculous and-“

“It’s okay, baby, I can walk.” He sat up quickly and the crowd spun around him. “Woah. Maaaaybe not.”

“Exactly. Okay, lay back down. I got you.” Steve’s other hand came around the back of his head to guide him as he leaned back. There was a rolled up shirt or something he hadn’t realized had been tucked behind his head. Probably Steve’s. He was such a good husband. 

There was a bunch more talking above him and he didn’t really listen. Steve’s voice got louder and more stern and then calmed down. A female voice came and Steve seemed to calm down even more. 

“I love you so much, Stevie. Taking such good care of me. Gunna suck your dick so good when we get home.” 

Steve made a choking noise and someone giggled next to them. 

“Eddie!” A familiar voice called. “Eddie what the fuck?”

He opened his eyes to see Gareth and Jeff hovering over him. “Oh hey guys,” he greeted them. When he tried to sit up a hand pushed his chest back down. “Stevie here is taking care of everything. I guess I hit my head?”

“We thought you just disappeared. They finally got Chrissy on the radio to tell us you fell and they’re waiting on an ambulance. What the fuck, dude? And who is Steve?”

“Steve, my husband? Obviously.” He waved their conjoined hands for emphasis.

He looked up to see Steve wince and Gareth and Jeff share a puzzled look. The hand on his chest left. 

“Sorry. Hi, I’m Steve. I was just sort of here, when he fell. He’s confused. I think he has a concussion.”

He watched them all shake hands, the guys now looking more concerned than before. 

“Shit, man. If we don’t play we don’t get paid. We need this.”

“We can stay with him, if that’ll help. Can you go on without him?” Steve offered. 

The guys shared another look. Jeff shrugged, “I mean, we probably have to. We can swap out some of the songs where he’s the lead-“ he looked around. “We need to go talk to Chrissy. Gareth, give him your number so he can keep in contact with us. We really appreciate this, Steve.” Jeff disappeared and he watched, confused, as Steve handed Gareth his phone. Why were they acting like they didn’t know each other?

Before he could question anyone, there was a stretcher and people in uniforms helped get him onto it and wheeled him through a crowd of people. He kept his eyes on Steve who stayed beside him and held his hand the entire way. 

“You riding with us?” The EMT asked Steve after they locked the stretcher into the ambulance.

Eddie answered, “Of course, this is my husband.”

Steve sighed. “Yes and no. I’m coming. I am not his husband, though. He’s concussed and we just met.”

The other EMT raised her eyebrows. “Alright then. Glad you were around.”

Steve settled onto the seat next to him and took his hand again. 

Eddie settled back and looked up at him. “Me too.”

@eddiemonth

#Going out of order because my brain wanted to do this instead of kinktober today #Eddie month #eddie month fic #Mine #Steve’s a concussion expert #Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #stranger things #stranger things fic

[shares-a-vest]

@eddiemonth Day 23: Mixtape, Earnest

Word Count: 706 Rating: T | cw: Steve has a migraine

Eddie frowns as Steve's brows knit together as he stands behind the counter at Family Video, presiding over the very dead Thursday afternoon shift. Admittedly, he is waving a mixtape in Steve's face - or at least as close as he can get on the mere peasant's side of the counter.

He dares not get any closer because Keith is lingering somewhere in the store, ready to pop out and threaten him with reinstating a years-past ban.

He jumps as Steve snatches away the cassette tape, likely annoyed enough now to steadfastly put a stop to his taunting, and flips it over to examine the paper insert.

"It's blank," he says, holding it up as if Eddie doesn't know that and somehow, his frown deepens.

"I know," Eddie can't help but beam, puffing his chest out proudly.

"But... the tape isn't blank?" Steve continues, eyes darting about as he gets lost in thought.

"Nope!" he smiles and rocks on his heels, "Just keep it safe for when you need it."

Steve's eyes widen as he slowly places it in his vest pocket.

"Wait," he pauses and leans forward, elbows on the dusty counter as he lowers his voice, "It isn't a sex thing, is it?"

Eddie mirrors his stance – any closer and he'd be kissing his boyfriend in full view of sweaty mouth-breather Keith.

"You want a sex thing?" he stage-whispers, smirking, "On tape?"

"No!" Steve defends, voice small as he bolts upright.

Before he can retreat any further, Eddie takes a swipe, only just managing to reach and playfully pat Steve on the chest, right over his breast pocket.

It isn't even a week later when Eddie arrives at Steve's house to find him curled up on the couch with the tell-tale signs he is recovering from a migraine. He has a blanket pulled up to his neck, his bare feet sticking out the bottom. His clothes are scattered about, Family Video vest haphazardly tossed on the sprawling coffee table.

But, judging by the lack of snoring that typically reaches a chainsaw level of decibels, Steve isn't asleep despite his closed eyes and furrowed brow.

As Eddie creeps closer, stepping as lightly as possible in his work boots (that he probably should have shucked off at the door to save Mrs Harrington's pristine tiles), he spots Steve's headphones nestled in amongst a mop of messy hair.

He lowers onto the edge of the couch as best he can, taking a chance and simply estimating wherever the hell Steve's legs might be (or, hopefully not) under his blanket cocoon.

Steve's frown wavers, his eyes fluttering open as he lets out a small gasp.

"Hey!" he croaks, a little too loud for the quiet solitude of the house.

He fumbles around to slide one of the earpieces off, tangling it further into his hair. He grumbles and vaguely wiggles his fingers in a halfhearted hand wave.

"You made a mixtape of classical music," he smiles, eyes closing again as his head sinks impossibly further into the bed pillow he permanently keeps in the living room for such occasions, "S'nice."

"Nice and calm," Eddie adds, no longer able to resist the urge to reach forward and push back the front of Steve's hair.

"Dustin laughed at me when I said I liked Amadeus."

Steve squirms around, freeing the hand that's gripping his cassette player for dear life from the confines of the blanket. He holds it to his chest and sighs.

"Yes, I remember," Eddie replies, momentarily glaring at the nearest cushion, envisioning that smartass little dweeb's face within its swirling mixture of geometric shapes and brown blobs.

He settles for resting his hand on Steve's, foregoing his wish that the non-Dustin blob cushion would spontaneously combust.

"Want us to listen to it on the stereo while we make dinner," Steve hums, lacing their fingers together.

Yeah sure, Eddie made the mixtape partly to make up for the roaring laughter that came with Steve admitting he'd enjoyed the film about an envious Salieri despite being dragged to see it years back with Nancy.

But he was also determined to help Steve in earnest with his ever-frequent migraines – even if he still does owe him some sort of sex-based cassette.

#this... might be a little too focused on steve??? idk #i wanted to do a bit of a different take on a mixtape and my brain went to 'steve secretly like classical music' #eddie month #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie

[skepsiss]

His People - Eddie Munson

Wrote a small piece for the October 13th prompt "Monster" for Eddie Month! @eddiemonth. This is a short fic about Eddie coming back as some kind of monster after the events of S4. I might explore this idea more if people like it. (If I continue it, I'll probably make it Steddie, lol). Believe it or not, this is fluff. This is extremely soft and a look into Eddie's mind when he himself doesn't know his own mind anymore. He is more like a stray cat than something scary though.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

CW: Descriptions of gore/violence, body horror (minor), discrimination, mention of blood.

For as long as Eddie could remember he had felt like a monster. You were made to feel that way when you grew up poor without parents to rely on. You learned how to shroud yourself in mystery and grow teeth and nails to defend yourself with. How to be a viper and snap at anyone that dared provoke you. They made you feel like a monster, so the only way you could behave was monstrous. The only defense against the venom of humankind was to become something so grotesque they’d leave you alone. 

They’d made him a monster, a creature like from Frankenstein’s lab; just an amalgamation of parts that had never really belonged to him. Animated in the likeness of man, but deemed as cursed and obscene. How he’d been driven from town with pitchforks held high; a monster despite never being asked to be here. Despite never lifting a finger to harm anyone. Despite how little or fragile he really was. 

Eddie had always felt like a monster. It was how you grew up to keep yourself safe. My daddy was a demon and my mother was a mutant and they cursed this planet with a boy so terrible that no one would dare love him. That was how he had lived. That was all Eddie had to assume his future held.

How was it then that when Eddie had become a monster–a real one with fangs and claws, whose heart didn’t beat and skin didn’t bleed–how was it that he had found peace? How was it that he felt more loved now than he ever had when he was simply human?

At his return, his mind was a jumble, and scents and thoughts wafted through the air around him as he tried to recall everything to do with his previous life. He could remember things as if he was looking through a foggy window, grasping at the thoughts, but not always truly remembering. It had been hard not to fall silent in a room of people, to feel included, wanted, and safe. But these people–his people–they had celebrated his return. 

Eddie had come home to Hawkins stinking of death and polluted with tar. The places he had been wounded were marred with obsidian and tacky like dried blood. It didn’t hurt, but it had been disorienting. He hadn’t remembered anything–he hadn’t remembered anything but feeling like a monster. A freak. A bigger threat than he’d ever been… and he had curled up in his tub until he was found. Until warm water was sprayed on him to wash away the filth and a gentle hand had soothed his confusion. 

Scents were the first thing that had helped him remember. 

The way people smelled and the grounding odor of cigarettes. How Dustin, and Robin, Mike and Steve all had such specific scents that helped provoke feelings. The memories attached to those feelings came afterward, but he remembered feeling joy, concern, pride, and love. Good things. Good feelings. But even with the goodness he had shrunk in on himself, fearful that he’d frighten these people away even as they stared at him with glassy eyes and quivering lips. But he hadn’t scared them. He hadn’t scared them at all–he was a real monster and he had never had more people rally around him before in his life. 

With time the obsidian marks faded and his skin looked unmarred by the events of the Upside Down. He couldn’t fully remember what had happened or how he had crawled out of hell, but there were instincts ingrained into him that hadn’t been there before. Food curled his nose and tasted like water or ash in his mouth; the pleasures of sugar and salt felt like torture when he ate them, but meat had never tasted so good. 

Raw, bleeding, hot or cold, muscle and sinew, meat. He had craved it like a starved animal but had cringed away from the idea of killing something to feed his hunger. A fragment of humanity made him shiver and twitch with concern over the prospect. The idea made his mouth water, but it also flooded his guts with anxiety. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even like this. Even as a caged lion.

Eating was what had finally cleared his skin and Eddie had learned that abstaining from food for too long marked his flesh with the black substance once again. It made him look ghastly and Eddie had grimaced at his appearance as his body shifted under his gaze. He ate often and hid his unrest.

Still, the food had not been able to hide the secondary row of teeth that were wedged under his gums. It was as if he was a shark or a leech, but you could only really see the teeth when he curled his lip or smiled wide. They were weapons made for tearing and Eddie tried not to eat around his friends in fear the scene would mark him a beast. It was easy to talk around the fangs so long as he remembered. 

The claws were harder to get used to and Eddie had struggled with picking things up and not accidentally destroying everything he touched. They were sharp and he had refrained from touching any of his people in fear that he would wound them. Nothing seemed strong enough to trim his nails, but they didn’t grow either. It was like he had knives attached to his fingers and when he had remembered what his guitars were he had wept over the idea that he’d never be able to play the instrument again.

Nancy had been the one to come up with the idea and Robin had helped implement the plan. Acrylic nails to cover the tips of his fingers–they wouldn’t apply a full nail but the acrylic could be rolled into a bead and then applied to Eddie’s hand to cover the razer points. Eddie hadn’t known to feel foolish at the time, but he felt self-conscious about it now–even if there didn’t seem to be any way around it. Still, the girls had painted his nails black and he’d be free to touch things unbiasedly for a few weeks until the acrylic chipped off. It worked and he had encouraged the girls to make his claws look jagged or imperfect instead of nice and polished. He’d wear them as a costume, even though eventually he hoped he could figure out how to do the work himself. 

People had rallied to him and Eddie had felt meek in their wake. He had slunk around the party and shrunk into corners quietly like a scared animal, the onslaught of love and care too foreign and overwhelming to him. He didn’t even have his mind to joke and tease, it had just been too much even if he was inexplicably drawn to the attention still. He wanted it, but he didn’t. He needed it, but it felt like he was dying every time he got it. His energy had shifted eventually and he had learned that he liked compliments, so long as he could joke. He’d fain shyness and squirm, obviously touched but hamming up his reaction. 

Before he remembered that it was strange he had warmed up to everyone in quiet, affectionate ways. He had leaned and rested his cheek on Dustin’s head, relishing in the softness of his curls. He had tugged at Nancy’s shirt sleeves and followed her around while she worked, watching everything she did with the utmost interest. He had curled up beside Steve on the couch and slowly stretched across his lap like a cat looking to disrupt their owner, soaking in the warmth his body provided. 

Everyone had tolerated his oddities until slowly aspects of his humanity returned to him. Memories and social norms struck him at inopportune times and then flooded him with shame or nervousness. He felt like a toddler or enfeebled at times and it was difficult to keep up with everyone as they chatted around him. Still, whenever someone noticed him struggling they had softly explained in an aside or given him a reassuring touch. It was more than he could ask for and Eddie had fallen in love with every single one of his friends again and again. His people. 

It felt like he was bursting at the seams with platonic affection for every single one of them. He was taken care of and adored, not just tolerated. People wanted him for the first time, monster and all. 

He had been shamed into submission amongst the horde for his whole life, made to carry the mantle of vandal, plague, and devil whether he wanted it or not. Branded a problem–a defect. Branded a freak. He was everything he had been told he was his whole life but he did not fear it any longer. If being a beast earned him Lucas, and Jeff, Max, and Gareth he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him because he was celebrated for remembering things and he felt safe just lingering close to his friends. 

He was grotesque now; built from spare parts and left for scrap, but his people wanted him anyway and Eddie had never felt more loved in his life.

Chapter 2

#I want to snuggle and hold this weird little monster Eddie #he really sounds so fucking adorable to me #Eddie munson #stranger things au #my_writing #eddie month #Eddiemonth #Stranger things #Stranger Things Fic #stranger things fanfic #also I'll pledge my soul to whoever draws Eddie with acrylic nails

[redlegumes]

Eddie Month week four: Corroded Coffin

@eddiemonth

The Prompts (each page uses all of that day's prompts)

Oct 22nd: First concert | Triumph of King Freak - Rob Zombie | Eager

Oct 23rd: Mixtape | Nothing Else Matters - Metallica | Earnest

Oct 24th: Drama | His Kiss the Riot - Anaïs Mitchell | Magnetic

Oct 25th: Songwriting | Snuff - Slipknot | Melancholy

Oct 26th: Corroded Coffin | I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P. | Hopeful

Y'all don't even know- I've been working on the prompts since Eddie Month was announced but with kink/ink tober and the holiday exchange and the big bang and my regular WIPs - these were always gonna be late ╥﹏╥

#Finally posting my Eddie Month Stuff #This month has been bonkers #Eddie Month #Eddie Month Week 4 #yeah i made it steddie #steddie #eddie munson #temporary break up #angst and fluff #steve harrington #corroded coffin #'freak' #jeff #gareth #stranger things #fanart #comic #and his tattoos disappeared ugh

[llamalpaca]

@eddiemonth October 23rd: Mixtape | Nothing Else Matters - Metallica | Earnest

(click for better quality)

And as he sits there, all alone, music blasting from the tape - His tape - Eddie lets himself cry. Those words don't belong to the original author anymore, they belong to Him - they are a ghost of a touch, a ray of warmth that tastes like honey and smells like smoke, a promise that fell through the cracks.

Buy me a coffee, if you fancy :>

#eddie month #eddie munson #steddie #eddie munson art #steve harrington #st #woke up today and chose violence

[madaboutmunson]

Sweet Home Chicago Series - Stupid Cupid (Part 1)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth Week 1 prompts used Parents, Observant, Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, Lost, Role Model, Crush, Warm Warnings: None that I could think of, but let me know if you feel any should be added, and I'll do that straight away :) Romance/Fluff Word Count : 13K Ao3 Link

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1959 Little Italy, Chicago

Eddie arrives at night, and unlike Hawkins, this place is still bustling. He can only imagine what it might be like tomorrow. Alive, vibrant and diverse. Everything back home wasn't. Wayne has driven him all the way here. Even though he said several times he had the money and was fine taking the bus alone, his uncle didn't want to hear it. Besides, it would be an excellent opportunity to catch up with Eddie’s Mom.

Eddie knew this was a half-truth. Wayne was a worrier, even though it cost him time and money for gas and food at rest stops. It at least meant that he knew Eddie was safe. It did give him a chance to catch up with his Mom, but this wouldn’t be a chit-chat. Wayne didn’t mean to be judgemental, but Eddie knew he wanted to check the place out, make sure his Mom was okay, and that Eddie would be OK here.

Eddie was eighteen now, a man. He’d often told Wayne he didn’t need him protecting him and his mother henning around him. But he knew that was a lie, too. Eddie was too different to not run into trouble, and they both knew that, even if Eddie had set his mind to starting over and being someone brand new in a place where he had a clean slate. He didn't have to be the loud, weird, bad kid here. He could be the quiet, unassuming budding author, and people would like him for that, not be put off by his previous self. 

Eddie was evolving. He could use this place to settle in and to mault. Rid himself of his disfunctions become healthy and normal. That's how you get ahead in life. An easy life.

He was so nervous. It had been some time since he’d seen his mom in person, though they generally stayed in touch with occasional phone calls, letters or parcels. In the last ten years since she left, maybe five Christmases and three birthdays. But she always called him.

Since he’d hit his teens, Wayne had little to discuss with his mom that Eddie couldn't communicate himself, other than the bad stuff that Eddie always conveniently left out.

Eddie had been a good kid. He just had a less-than-ideal start in life. His father was in and out of life more often than the changes of school term. There was no nice way of saying it. His dad was a criminal. Specifically a conman. His specialities lay in being charming, blending in and rustling up disguises out of basically nothing. Maybe if he had chosen the right path when he hit that fork in the road of life, he could have been a phenomenal actor. He easily imitated voices, sounds, and mannerisms, effortlessly embodying characters like donning or doffing his hat. Which made the rare bedtime stories he told masterpiece performances.

From what Eddie can recall of his parents' relationship, it was very loving, but they seemed to be stuck in the cycle of teenage love and angst over and over. One day, they would be dancing around the kitchen, gazing at one another across the table, hardly touching their food at all, or curled up on the sofa together like two love-sick kids. But the next could be a complete warzone, arguments over the same things, either his dad’s risky next job or his mom’s failure to keep a steady one. Maybe none of that would have been a problem for the two of them, but when the third part of that equation was a young, hyperactive, attention-starved, anxiety-riddled son, it just fueled the fire.

His Mom and Dad never called him a mistake, and they did give him the love they could spare, but they were very young, and Eddie came along before they’d even caught a glimpse of the vague edge of their dreams. Neither of them had great relationships with their parents. His Dad’s were distant. Disowned him for his sinful way of life, being the god-fearing people they were. His Mom doesn't even remember her mom, she only remembers her Dad, who was essentially her best friend her whole life until the Munsons muscled into the scene, and he wanted better for her. When they ran away to get married against everyone’s advice, it broke her Dad’s heart, and they never spoke in person again. Eddie guesses it made sense they would cling to one another when they must have felt like flotsam just bobbing about in the world, lost and alone.

Eddie’s dad, criminally charming as he was, never strayed from his mom. Never looked at another woman twice. His dad said that was because he had never met a girl like his mom before in his life. 

When the Munson’s arrived in Indiana, it was tough. Tougher for outsiders. That was just the way Hawkins always was. Tough as old boots. But thankfully, the Munsons lucked out because the nearest house to theirs was owned by a kind, neighbourly mechanic Widower with an only daughter.

Eddie loved hearing how his Dad’s voice would change when he remembered his mom from their youth. He, his mom and Wayne became fast friends, roaming around Hawkins together. A happy outsider trio, going on adventures, star and cloud gazing together, cannonballing into the lake. He’d recall his mom, Esmerelda, or Em as he liked to call her, was not only fun, but she could shoot better than any he knew. She would have made a great sniper. Plus, she could strip and reassemble a car engine in record time. Only sported a dress for church on Sundays. The rest of her time, she wore pants, a shirt and braces like the rest. Though usually covered with a streak of engine oil, dirt or flour. The cherry on top was just how beautiful she was. Big, piercing green eyes and long, luscious dark waves of hair that bounced around her face as she outran them both through the fields playing tag.

The three of them were thick as thieves, but as they moved into their teens, Al started to peel off into the more real dangerous side of things, which got him kicked out, and that left his Mom and Wayne, still reading stories, and letting their imaginations run riot in the skies above them at the lakeside, or inventing future dream lives for themselves on the tire swing at the Munson’s.

But the day finally came when Al got brought home by the sheriff himself. They banned him from town, so he was plunged back into Wayne and his Mom’s life with a thump. His parents wanted nothing to do with him, so his Mom’s father let him stay in a barn on his land. Though the three spent most of their days together as kids, Al seeing Esmerelda in her everyday home life enabled him to see more sides of her. Not just showing off, being goofy or tough, but kind, careful, generous, and protective. That's when he realised it wasn’t just the friendship he felt for her and decided he should do something about it. So one night, he sent Wayne back to the house for some sodas, which Wayne argued with him over, didn’t want to do at all, nearly ruined the moment, and as soon as he was out of sight. Al made his move. Shuffled closer on a hay bale and kissed her on the cheek, and as he liked to say, the rest is history.

Then he’d turn to Eddie and say, “One day, Eddie, you’re gonna meet a girl, and Cupid is gonna line you up in his sights and pow, it’ll be over for you.” Eddie would be so scared, his dad would chuckle and pull him into his lap, “I’m sorry, son, it’s not that scary, but you’ve got the genes of your mom and me. You’re a hopeless romantic on both sides, but that just means you’ll find your one easily,” he’d tap him on the chest, “Your heart is so full of love it’s gonna shine so bright for them, they’ll see it from miles away.”

Eddie didn’t realise at the time how dysfunctional his family was. When they weren’t arguing, they had the most fun together, but some of the things he thought were games weren’t that at all. They would play the weeks-long hide-and-seek game with his dad, but Eddie mustn’t tell anyone else about it. Otherwise, the game would be over. The scavenger hunts that either they would lay out for his Dad or he and his mom would follow, the prizes always being wads of cash. Or the big box of dress up he and his mom sometimes had to rifle through and take outfits to his dad so he could play too. That was the last game he remembered them playing together.

His dad had told Eddie and his mom that he’d had a vision about work, how something might go wrong. So they were to meet him at a gas station to play pretend. Though Eddie was excited, he couldn’t figure out why his mom was so upset.

His mom had made new outfits, especially for the occasion: a priest, a nun and a choirboy. They parked around the back of the building, already in their costumes, and waited for hours. Until there was a screech of tires, the sounds of yelling and running. His mom had grabbed the brown paper bag and Eddie and ran from the car to the outdoor toilet, and they hid behind the wall. In seconds, his dad appeared with a massive smile on his face, “Look at you, my angels.” he laughed, grabbed the bag, and kissed his mom before disappearing into the toilet.

More cars were pulling up, but there was more yelling and slamming. He even heard someone shouting bad things about his dad until his mom covered his ears with her hands and pulled silly faces at him until he smiled.

Then came the sirens and gunshots. Eddie remembers being so scared until his dad reappeared, “Hey buddy, it’s ok. We’re gonna pretend we’re going to church now. So just put your hands together like when you say your prayers, close your eyes, and we’ll be on our way before you know it.” He beamed a huge toothy grin at him. Eddie could see dark grease in his hair. It almost made it look jet-black. Eddie did as he was told, the other noises continued, but he kept walking until someone lifted him into his seat.

That was the last time he saw his dad. Heard from him a few times and got a couple of things through the post, birthday and Christmas gifts, usually a few months late, but as Wayne would remind him, it’s the thought that counted.

There is something strange in the space between them in the car as they pull up outside the address she’d given them. All the buildings crowded around one another, and looming over them felt like a stark contrast to the feeling within the vehicle.

Wayne kills the engine, “Ed, if you ain’t sure bout this, it’s no trouble at all to drive ya home. I’m going back anyway.” He speaks the words up at the large building.

Eddie does actually think about it, the fear of the unknown creeping up his spine. Then he looks at Wayne. He looks tired, “Yeah,” he replies, trying to hide the crack in his voice, “I’m sure. A fresh start somewhere new, I can be someone else.” He looks up into the night sky as if asking the stars to make it so.

He feels his uncle’s hand on his shoulder, “Eddie,” Wayne’s voice is quiet and full of a soft sadness, “You ain’t gotta be no one else. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya. You were just a kid whose life was flipped around. You did the best ya could, son.” Wayne's soulful eyes shine in the darkness.

“I coulda been less trouble,” Eddie says with a sweet half-smile to try and lessen the weight of this conversation, “I coulda been good, made things easier for myself. Coulda not had the sheriff and neighbours knocking at your door.”

“Our door,” Wayne adds and shakes his head, with a huff of acceptance, “Kid, I just want ya to know, I’d take a hundred knocks on our door at any hour, as long as you were there with them. Safe. At home,” Wayne adds, he turns away from Eddie and looks out the window, “The only good thing I ever heard about this city, Ed, was that your mama done well for herself. Everything else was bad news.”

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says cautiously, but the word uncle makes Wayne’s head snap towards him. He’d been calling him Wayne mostly, but when he was little, sick or upset, he used uncle as a small plea for his comfort and support. “I came here to start over. I’m not interested in getting into trouble, joining greaser gangs, or getting into drink or drugs. I just want a chance to see more. Experience more without a brand on my forehead telling everyone I'm different. In Hawkins, I stick out, here there are so many differences no one is gonna notice lil’ ol’ me,” he smiles fondly at his uncle, “I'm gonna write a book and illustrate it, and when I make my fortune. I'm gonna come get you outta Hawkins, and me, you, mama, and pa are gonna live somewhere so grand.” His dreams widen his smile at Wayne, who offers a slight shrug of a smile back.

“Well, I ain’t never been one to stand in the way of anyone's dreams, so I reckon we better get up there before your mama falls fast asleep,” Wayne gets out of the car and gets Eddie’s cases.

Eddie shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into Chicago. 

He inhales deeply again, letting the city saturate his lungs, with all its good and bad. The buildings around here were so vast and gigantic that it made him feel small, but for once, that felt good. He grins up at the lights still flooding the night, some from apartments and restaurants, some from cars driving by, and the faint sound of jazz on the wind whips around the place. 

He walks around and takes the cases from Wayne, “I got this old timer,” which puts a genuine smile on Wayne’s face as they make their way to the large brick building.

He could clearly see three floors from the sidewalk, though, on approach, it looked like there might be an attic right at the top and a basement down below. On one side of the building was a set of hard stone steps that bypassed the apartment at street level and went up to the main middle floor he could see.

Eddie halts at the two big main doors like this threshold will tear him asunder, let him leave the old bad boy Eddie behind, and only leave behind the good. He sets down one case, but his hand shakes as he reaches for the handle. Soon, he feels Wayne’s hand on his shoulder again. He turns to look at him, “You got nothing to lose. Home isn’t going anywhere. You can always come back,” Wayne smiles warmly at him, and Eddie takes hold of the handle and opens the door. As he steps into the cold, tiled hallway, he feels the warmth of Wayne’s hand leave him. As he turns, he finds his uncle neatening himself up, Straightening his tie, smoothing down his jacket, and rearranging the flowers in his hand, which were starting to look a little sorry for themselves.

Eddie looks at the numbers on the doors, and it seems they have another floor to get to his mom’s place. Eddie notices on the group of mailboxes as they pass that she hasn’t opted to change her surname, and something about that makes him feel good. Despite their distance and his dad's behaviour, it wasn’t so bad she needed to cut them off entirely.

As they reach the door of her apartment, Eddie’s anxiety takes full hold, he feels his breathing shudder, and the muscles in his back burn with a new tension. He thumbs at the ring on his finger that was a going-away gift from Wayne. He’d found it in a hide on a hunt the day after Eddie told him he wanted to leave and said he thought it was a sign. It was a simple silver signet ring that Eddie had to tape up to fit his slender fingers. He kept it on his index finger so his thumb could easily reach it. The repetitive movement, who gave it to him and the gift sentiment all helped bring him back down to earth a little. He’d been using it the whole way here.

“You know what could be fun? If she sees me first, then I step aside to reveal you? Lord knows I won’t get a word in once she’s got holda ya,” Wayne beams at him, and Eddie nods, in the full knowledge Wayne was gonna take this first step for him.

When Wayne had offered to take care of Eddie, it had been because he’d been left at his grandparents for a spell whilst his mom found her footing in the city. Eddie’s grandparents were the first people he met who branded him bad simply because he was energetic and was born of two delinquents, as they called them. Wayne had told his mom, who moved Eddie to her Dad’s, and everything was fine until he started getting sick. So Wayne worked on vehicles with his Mom’s father, cared for him and Eddie and never complained. Eddie couldn’t be that good, not as good as Christian as Wayne, but he tried. He was kind to people and animals, said his prayers, and helped around the house, but school and that kind of life were too restrictive for his imagination. Wayne plied him with fantasy books and art supplies, and they worked for a while until the differences started showing.

He was supposed to like cowboys, not knights. He was supposed to play soldiers, not sorcerors. 

His Mom came back for his grandpa’s funeral but didn’t stay. She took money and trinkets and left the house, land, and everything else for him and Wayne. That’s how it had been for the last ten years. Just him and Wayne in his Mom’s old house.

The combination of grief and being in opposition with his peers had sparked a rebellion within Eddie. He was supposed to like pop music and country, not blues and rock’n’roll. He was supposed to wear his hair short, but he preferred it longer. He should have had a pick-up. He had a motorcycle. He was a one-man gang for a while, glaring at anyone who gave him a second look, spooking locals with sinister tales until he was othered because he wanted to be. Then, a few others flocked to him, and he had his own mini band of brothers. But they got out of control. It took a few sheriff visits and a near fire to reign Eddie back in and ultimately sparked this decision to move.

Wayne knocks gently on the door, the bouquet of flowers held in front of him more like a shield than a gift. The other hand behind his back reaches for Eddie’s arm. 

“Yeah?” A deep, booming voice rings out from behind the door.

“Uh, apologies, we’re looking for Ms, um, Mrs Munson. Must have the wrong place,” Eddie hears the slight tremble in Wayne’s voice and feels his hand grip his arm tighter.

The metallic sound of latches being hurriedly undone fills the hallway, the increase in speed matching Eddie’s heartbeat, until the door is wrenched open and Eddie sucks in a breath in anticipation, but with Wayne in front of him, Eddie doesn't see much at first.

“Wayne!” An excited voice calls out before she leaps into a bear hug squeeze, and Eddie laughs when he hears the faint crunch of the flowers.

“He came?” He hears his mom say in disbelief as Wayne is shoved to the side, and there she is. Older but more beautiful than he remembers.

She’s a small woman, a smirk in the place of a smile, but it radiates joy all the same. On top of her head, her jet black curls are piled on top of one another in an untamed bun, a scarf is neatly folded into a headband of sorts and tied around her head, at the top in a small bow, from under which a set of shorter curls spill out and frame her emerald eyes, rounded nose and delicate jawline.

Her hands reach forward and grab Eddie’s face, and she plants kisses on his cheeks, too many for him to count, leaving them both giggling as she moves her rough hands away and steps back again to get a good look at him, “Oh sweetheart, look at you! You look so grown up with your little suit on,” Her hand raises to her mouth, and Eddie thinks he can see the start of tears brimming, but she quickly averts her eyes to Wayne and waves them inside, “Come in. Come in. I’ll, um, show you to your room so you can drop your bags in,” As she shuts the door behind them, her arm braces around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him in for a side hug, “I can’t believe you’re finally here sweetie, oh my goodness you are gonna love it. Sorry everywhere is a little empty, I um, I only just moved into this apartment from upstairs. Here we are,” she says excitedly, then stops, gives him another squeeze, and gestures into a plain looking room.

The wooden floor is adorned with a mishmash of rugs, there is a single metal framed bed, a desk which he can see has been stocked with stationary, a full-length mirror attached to a tall wardrobe, and next to a tall chest of drawers, on top of which sits a record player.

“I didn't wanna do too much. This is your room, so you can decorate it as you like, and I can get rid of anything you don't want or like, don't worry about that. Just wanted you to have what I figured might be essentials.” She releases him and opens up the wardrobe, “I got you a set of towels, and um,” she moves over to the chest of drawers, “Some new socks and underwear. I hope I got the size right. I did try to remember the numbers your uncle gave me,” she smiles, and Eddie begins to see how nervous she is.

“Wow, it's so great. Thank you, Mama, I mean, Mom,” Eddie corrects himself, trying to sound a little more grown up. He puts his cases down by his bed and almost removes his hat before looking nervously at Wayne and then his mom.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” She asks, a little worried, looking between Eddie and Wayne.

“Who else is here?” Eddie asks quietly.

His mom looks at him quizzically, “No one, sweetie. It's just us.”

“But the voice at the door,” he says, pointing back to the hallway.

“Ohhhh,” his Mom says in realisation, cups her hands to her mouth and booms out, “You mean this voice?”

Eddie's shoulders relax, and he nods and laughs, shaking his head.

“Is that what you were worried about, honey?” She asks again, but Eddie shakes his head, unable to find the words.

“Emmie,” Wayne starts and looks at Eddie with a reassuring smile, “The boy doesn't much like the barbers.”

Her worry fades, and she smiles mischievously, gesturing at her hair, “Me neither.”

Eddie carefully removes his bakerboy-style hat that hid his hair and takes the clips out so that his dark waves of hair fall around his face. It’s not long like his mom’s, but it's long enough to reach the top of his shoulders.

His mom lets out a tiny squeal of delight, “Oh my goodness, you look like a little angel. Sorry, I mean, your hair looks very handsome on you, Eddie.”

“I like it this way, but I know it's not what others like. So I keep it tucked away.” Eddie advises.

“Well, no need to do that here, sweetheart,” she beams at him and takes down her hair. This is our home, and you can be yourself here, ok? You’re whole true self,” her eyes dart to Wayne nervously and back to Eddie, “I mean, your Chicago home, you know. Not like your home-home.” She laughs awkwardly, “You know what? I’ll rustle us up a quick supper and leave you boys to it.”

Eddie busies himself unpacking, and Wayne doesn’t speak until his mom’s footsteps fade away. He strolls around the room and looks out of the window, out onto the city.

“Nice view,” he says.

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Say what you really wanna say, Wayne.”

Wayne turns around and starts picking up the clothes Eddie is laying on the bed and transferring them to the wardrobe hangers or drawers for him, “Just promise me if you wanna come home, you’ll call, ok? Don’t matter the time. I’ll come get ya as soon as I can. It ain’t no failing just ‘cus a place is too much for ya. It’s a big change, Ed, and you ain’t like ya mama. She’s like a damn rubber ball the way she bounces back from every knockdown.”

“I promise,” Eddie smiles at Wayne’s protectiveness, “Maybe you can’t see it, but maybe in a bigger place, I won’t stick out so much? I’ll stand a better chance slipping under the radar here than I did in Hawkins.” 

Wayne hums in that grumbly fashion he does when he knows he has to agree with Eddie but doesn’t want to.

“Let me just try, and I promise, I won’t hesitate to call if things start to go wrong,” Eddie reassures him.

Wayne tilts his head into view to receive the last of his knitted jumpers, “Even if that’s tomorrow?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs, “Even if that’s tomorrow.” 

Once all the clothes are away, they sit together around the kitchen table and demolish the plate of sandwiches between them. Eye-opening stories for each of them, some about baby Eddie, some about his mom and Wayne’s adventures, some tales from Wayne about older Eddie’s misadventures, and even some about his Mom starting out in the city. They laugh and share fond smiles until his Mom lets out a yawn, “I’m so sorry, I’ve been up since five this morning,”

“Sorry, Darlin’, I didn't realise the time. I should get goin’,” Wayne says as his eyes nervously dart to Eddie before focusing back on cleaning away the dishes.

“Now, Wayne, you haven't gotta do that, it’s fine!” “I won’t hear non’ a that. You made the food. I can sort the dishes before I head off,” Wayne says, collecting the plates.

Eddie watches his Mom play nervously with the hem of her shirt, “You know, Wayne, it’s kinda late. You could stay if you want to? I’ve got a camp bed or the sofa. You can take my room,”

“Absolutely not! It's Eddie’s first day in the city tomorrow, and he don’t need a shadow. Needs to make his own way,” Wayne says, clearing his throat afterwards.

Eddie feels that familiar nervous swirling in his stomach as he realises he hadn't spent more than the occasional sleepover or overnight camping trip away from Wayne in the last ten years. 

This was really it.

Suddenly, he felt lost, like he was drifting away from his mooring into the unchartered waters. Nausea was a very real and present sensation. Eddie quickly gets out of his seat to help Wayne with the dishes. He stands shoulder to shoulder with him, sending him an occasional smile while humming one of Wayne’s favourite songs.

Before they know it, the dishes are done, and all that is left is goodbye.

“Don’t wave me off. Stay up here, get a cocoa in ya, and off to bed. That's an order for both of ya,” Wayne tries to joke, but Eddie can hear a slight tremble in his voice, “So um, if anything, call me, ok, doesn’t matter what it is, like I said-”

Eddie pulls him in tight for a tight squeeze as he bites back his tears against Wayne’s shoulder, “Gonna miss you,” Is all Eddie can manage.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy, son.” He squeezes him back harder, “And speaks into his hair, “And if anything happens to you out here, you have my solemn vow, I’ll raze Hawkins to the ground, cus it’s that stupid fuckin’ town that took you away. I’ll give them hell until the end of my days.” 

“He’s gonna be ok, Wayne. I promise,” Eddie hears his mom attempt to reassure him.

His uncle squeezes him tightly one more time, pats him on the shoulders, and moves back to look at him, tears in both their eyes. Wayne swallows and wipes his eyes before turning to his mom, “Emmie, it was good to see ya. Uh. See ya later, Ed,” he says, shakes his hand, nods his goodbye to him, and leaves.

Eddie rushes to the window of his room. In the dark, he finally lets his tears fall as he watches his weeping uncle drive away.

“Gotcha, that cocoa, you’re uncle suggested, pretty plain, I’m afraid. Tomorrow, I’ll pick up some marshmallows.” he hears her set the mugs down, “May I?” She asks, and Eddie only weakly nods as he finds himself crying in his mother's arms for the first time in eleven years.

Eddie didn’t sleep well that night; he was not used to the noise, and his worries wouldn’t let him rest even if it were as quiet as back home.

He lays awake in bed, waiting to hear his Mom get up. He checks his watch, gives her five minutes, and then joins her.

“Morning Sweetheart, want some coffee?” He hears her call out as he walks to the bathroom.

“Yeah, that would be great, thank you,” he rolls his eyes a little at himself at how formal he’s being, but he’s just trying to be polite.

He makes his way to the kitchen and finds not just a coffee but a plate of scrambled eggs, too.

“You still like eggs, right?” She asks with an awkward smile.

Eddie nods happily, “Yeah. I do. Thank you.” He tucks his pajamaed self in by shuffling his chair forward with a squeak against the floor, and he instinctively winces, “Sorry.” He glances slightly up at her from the corner of his eye. She’s probably regretting this already.

She moves from the counter and sits beside him, “Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. You’re fine, honestly.” He raises his eyes to her piercing green ones, and she gives him that sweet smile of hers, “Listen, sweetheart, I get we don’t know one another too well. That’s on me. I love you, always have, and always will. Even though maybe I didn’t show it in all the ways a mother should,” she cautiously reaches her hand over his, and he pushes his hand into hers, “But I want to get to know you, as you are. Wayne filled me in on a lot, and I just want to repeat, this is our, um, Chicago home, right? And behind this door, you are one hundred per cent okay to be one hundred per cent yourself, even if you can’t do it out there. I know I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Eddie says, and he realises his voice sounds small, unlike the eighteen-year-old man he’s supposed to be.

“No way. Are you kidding me?” she laughs, “I’ve built myself from nothing here. I can do the jobs I wanna do. Manual work that doesn’t involve putting on a full face of makeup or putting up with sleazy guys. Sorry, too much. Uh. What I’m trying to say is if I acted my true, daydreaming, singing, ditzy self out there, even though I do every job I take on extremely well, no one would take me seriously. I wouldn’t be a person to call for people that live around here. I wouldn’t have been trusted to take on maintenance for this building and get this bigger apartment,” she squeezes his arm and softens her voice, “but when I step through that door. I drop all those masks. I’d go crazy if I didn’t,” she smiles at him, “and I don’t need a crazy man in my home. So just be yourself, sweetheart. Wayne has filled me in on some things you’re dealing with, but I won’t make you talk about them unless you want to. I know you want a fresh start. Just like I did when I got here, I want this home to be your springboard to your dreams, Eddie. Everyone deserves to try.”

Something about that sets Eddie more at ease, “Got it, M-mom,” he corrects, and she raises an eyebrow at him, “Mama.” He says with a happy smile, and she nods.

“Better?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he says as he moves his hand on top of hers and squeezes it, kissing her on the cheek, “Tons better,” he says, picking up his cutlery to eat. Against his better judgement, he eats exactly as he would at home, pretty much inhaling the food on the plate, as his Mom laughs and gets up to pour another coffee for herself.

“So I got a few jobs to do today. I know you said you didn’t want me chaperoning and wanted to discover the place for yourself, but I also promised Wayne I’d keep you safe, and obviously, I want that, too. So, I thought maybe you could do some shopping for me, stick to the area. I’ve even put the names of the stores down for you. When you’re done, if you want to roam around, don’t stray too far from Taylor Street, ok. That’s the kind of hub of this area, and it’s the community I know,”

“Yeah, I read about that. Is it just all Italians ‘round here then? Because of the name,” Eddie asks, finishing his last mouthful and picking up his coffee.

“No, not really. There are people from all over. Well, at one point in their family tree, but most of the people your age around here are born and bred in Chicago. It’s fascinating, really. You’re gonna have tons more things to inspire you here,” She smiles and pushes him over a piece of note paper with some money, “Feel free to grab yourself some lunch out of that too. Keep the change for yourself. Don’t wanna deprive my little wordsmith of anything,” She smiles at him in a way he’s seen before somewhere in his distant memories and something that reminds him of Wayne. She’s proud of me, he thinks to himself, and that surges him into action. 

He quickly cleans the dishes and gets ready for the day. His Mom kisses him goodbye, leaving him at his desk for a while, pondering out his window. Watching people come and go, he decides to wait an hour or so for it to quieten down. He spends time sketching out some people on the street and the buildings. His mom was right. This place had so much going on it was impossible not to be inspired, and an urge to get amongst it all sweeps over Eddie. He pins up his hair, hiding it under his hat, grabs his satchel, dumping in his art and writing supplies. Rushes into the kitchen to pick up his keys, money and jacket. 

He gives the door a shove to make sure he’s shut it properly, and confident in that, he tries to step away but finds himself yanked back because he’s closed his jacket in there.  Eddie rolls his eyes at his clumsiness and unlocks the door again, releasing his jacket and closing and rechecking it. He takes a breath, starts over, and makes his way down the stairs to the foyer, tips his hat and smiles at his new neighbours as he passes.

It’s not until he steps outside that anyone stops him. 

“Ey! You new around here, ain’t ya?” a deep voice calls out after him. Eddie’s heart is pounding. This is the first person he’s going to officially meet here as the new him. He puts a friendly smile on his face and turns to greet them.

It’s a guy who looks about his age with blond hair, most of which is slicked back in a pompadour style save for a solitary ringlet that fell down his forehead. A cigarette limply hangs from his lips as he mirrors Eddie's smile and uses his shoulder to push himself from the wall he is leaning against.

“Morning,” Eddie chirps back, “Yeah, uh, just got here last night.”

“Oh really?” He tilts his head and looks Eddie over, “Huh.” He steps forward and grabs Eddie’s satchel.

Eddie feels immediately flustered by the intrusion and how quickly this guy got into his space. He tries to laugh it off, “Hey, easy there,” he says, tugging his bag back and taking a few steps down the staircase from the man.

“Easy there,” he mimics and laughs, “You one of those squares from the university?”

Eddie tries to smile again, even though he can feel his old self just beneath the surface, ready to knock out this guy’s teeth. It must have been some sort of dumb prank, “No, I just wanted to try the city out.”

“Oh, you’re a hick?” The guy asks, narrowing his eyes. His grin grows to something sly as if he knows he’s pushing Eddie’s buttons. He jumps down to the step Eddie is on with a thud, takes a long draw on his cigarette, and blows the smoke in Eddie’s face. Eddie waves it away with his hand, making him throw back his head and laugh.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, repressing the urge to retaliate, turns his glare away and starts down the stairs again.

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you!” He shouts after Eddie.

“Oh, I think we’re done here, buddy,” Eddie waves back with a forced laugh.

”Was that your old man last night? Crying in his car like a little bitch?” He shouts louder after Eddie.

That does it. Eddie wipes his hand down his lower face to contain the bubbling rage within him. No one talks about Wayne like that. Not this fucker, not anyone. 

What he wouldn’t give to be able to launch himself back up these stairs and send that dick crashing down them with his fist. But he’s not gonna let this asshole ruin his new start.

He turns back and looks up at him. “Ah, there he is,” the guy says with a weird sort of relief and a satisfied grin.

“You know, friend, maybe you shouldn’t be peering in the car windows or old men at night. You’ll get yourself a reputation,” Eddie shouts back at him and watches the guy’s face drop as a passing group of kids giggle at him.

Eddie smirks up at him and sends him a wink before continuing his day, leaving him standing dumbly on the staircase. 

This place was incredible. Eddie gets most of what his mom has asked for on the list from the locations on the small map she drew him. The grocery shop was the place nearest home and looked like the heaviest order, so he’d save that for last.

He circles back and drops in the light bulbs and various cleaning stuffs, and as it’s nice out, instead of staying cooped up inside, he decides to sit on the stairs and sketch some of the scenes around him as he munches on the sandwich from the deli.

He spots a group of girls over by a bench. Two are sitting down. One a light brown Italian-style haircut, like Sophia Loren, her big blue eyes bore into the pages of the book she's reading. Beside her is another girl trying to get something out of her light, mousy brown hair. Though their purposes seem different, they seem to be conversing, and the third, a girl with red hair, has decided to pretend the kerb is a tightrope and keeps her balance walking along it.

Eddie smiles to himself and gets to drawing. He should be trying to think of a main character for his story and draw that, but the inspiration hasn’t hit him yet. This place has too much he wants to capture. Maybe he should see if his mom has a camera or something.

Lost in the piece's details, he overlooks the shadow looming over him, and he’s too late to grab his sketch pad as it is snatched away from his lap. 

“Hey!” Eddie shouts and tries to grab it back, but the problem quickly becomes evident. It's the guy from earlier, only he has two other guys with him this time.

“Geez, what even is this shit,” he sneers at Eddie's drawing and shows it to his friends, who laugh along with him.

Eddie is so over this bullshit already, “Ok, you don’t like it. Fine. Just give it back, ok? And I’ll get away from your stairs, or whatever it is that's making you so upset,” he sighs and extends his hand towards him.

The blonde glares right into his eyes. He licks his teeth and spits on the ground before looking back at Eddie. A sinister smile spreads over his face again as he holds the pad aloft and turns his attention to the girls, “Hey! Ladies! Did you know you were all being perved on by some creep?” he yells over to them.

Eddie springs into panic, waving his hands in front of him. “Oh my god, no. It's not like that at all. I swear,” he frantically pleads with them as they frown at him and walk away, leaving the guys cackling amongst themselves. Great. Day one, and he’s already a fucking creep. What the fuck was this guy’s problem, anyway.

The guy plucks the cigarette out of the freckled boy's mouth and stubs it out on Eddie’s sketch pad, “Oops, better put that out, hadn’t I?” he drops the pad to the steps, stomps on it, grinds his boot into the pages and kicks it over to Eddie.

Eddie’s blood is boiling with rage, but he also feels like he could erupt into tears simultaneously. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just have this chance? Maybe he’d been so bad all the gods and the universe decided he doesn't get a do-over, and he has to pay for all the trouble he caused.

He looks at the trio and wonders if this is how Hawkins saw him and his gang. A cloud of terror just drifting to cause trouble and leave. Though Eddie never bullied anyone, he did annoy most businesses in town with his antics.

He picks up the pad and dusts it off, putting it in his bag, and he’s about to walk away, but he just can’t help himself. He turns back, eyes this dickhead with absolute disgust, “What is your problem with me anyway? I just got here. I’m not looking for trouble or trying to muscle in on anything you’ve got going on,”

They laugh, and the freckled one smirks, “How the fuck could you muscle in on anythin’? Look atcha. Nothing but an itty bitty weakling,” he jeers.

The one with shorter, cropped blond hair and narrow, icy blue eyes mimics him, “What's your problem with me anyway?” 

The main guy has a satisfied smirk, “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the shirt and pulling him in close, but Eddie doesn't cower and does not retaliate, just coldly stares right back at him. 

The guy looks Eddie’s face up and down. Like a closer inspection, now he's only inches away from it, “My problem is, I don’t like creeps on my block,” then he leans in to whisper in Eddie’s ear, “And also…I know what you are…Freak!”

Eddie’s stomach churns at the thought of what this guy could have already deciphered about him so quickly. Could he just be talking about the drawings, that he wasn't from here, or he wasn’t dressed right?

He jolts backwards out of his grip as the guy smugly tilts his chin in the air, the victor.

Not wanting to add to today's problems, Eddie simply gathers his things and decides to get the groceries.

The group blocks his path down the stairs, saying, “I’ve got things to do. So if you kindly let me pass, I can be on my way,”

“Don't be too long, now. We’ll be here waiting for when you get back,” the main stocky guy teases.

Eddie hurriedly bustles his way past them, briskly walking away, and doesn't look back. Not even once, as his pulse thunders in his ears. The city seems to swell and contract as the anxiety starts to weave its way into him, and he might have walked right on by the grocery store if not for the uneven sidewalk.

He manages to get his hands in front of him, preventing his face from meeting the pavement and scrambles to his feet.

“What? Not even a postcard?” A thick Chicago accent rings out. Eddie starts to feel the defensiveness rise in him. He’s going to give this joker a piece of his mind. It's only his first day here, and already, it's going to hell. It's a stupid joke, anyway, which makes no sense at all because he didn't trip. He fell. Couldn’t this moron even see that? He dusts off his new clothes and notices a small tear in the knee. And that might be the final straw. Eddie screws up his face in rage. Fists clenched at his sides, one finger extended, ready to point right at this guy.

“No! Not even-” Eddie begins angrily as he turns to the voice. But all language and oxygen leave him, and all he can do is take one gulp of an inhale like a human goldfish.

Standing in front of Eddie right now is something he can barely comprehend. A miracle has occurred, and it doesn't seem like the rest of the world has noticed because it's carrying on like this isn’t even happening. He can vaguely hear the cars and the shouts of others, but they are all starting to dwindle. It was like someone was turning the volume down on planet Earth, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat and breathing.

Then, almost like a vignette is placed over his vision, blurring and darkening the edges, he can only focus on one thing.

The man of Eddie’s dreams.

Physically, at least.

He is right there.

Like the great animators in the sky plucked him out of his mind and drew him into existence.

Had he not put his hand out in time? Was he, in reality, currently knocked out by the fall, and that's why he can see this guy now?

He’s about the same height as Eddie. His hair is neatly cropped, not shoved away and hidden under a hat like his own. It’s side-parted, with a perfect swoop of brown, neatly combed and styled hair. Save for a few strands that hang over his forehead, rebelling against the pomade. His light brown eyes are shaped with a slight slope downwards, giving them a natural, hooded, adorable sadness, just like Elvis himself. But these are larger, which made them infinitely easier to get lost in. But there isn’t an ounce of sadness in the rest of that face as a cocky open-mouthed smile spreads across it. Tucked in the corner of his lips is a toothpick that rolls, as his tongue is idly toying with from inside his mouth as he looks Eddie up and down. 

Then there are those rose-blushed lips of his. They looked so soft, in direct opposition with the perfectly chiselled jaw they rested above. And all of this with a backdrop of olive skin littered with beauty marks. As if this guy needed any more indicators of how beautiful he was. Jesus.

Eddie dares to give him a rapid look up and down, and it is also awful news because not only did they give him the face of an angel, but they had to provide him with a body that would launch a million classical sculptors across all time into action. His shoulders are broad and sit atop two very pleasantly muscular arms. The white cotton t-shirt embraces them, one tighter than the other as it's rolled a little higher to hold his pack of smokes. The fabric stretches over his chest to reveal the mounds and dips of an anatomical landscape that Eddie is sure he would happily sit and admire for longer than any national landmark this fair country had to offer. Then the killing blow by this everyday garment is struck by how it falls and clings to his stomach, revealing he’s even got a slightly soft tummy. Eddie is starting to feel light-headed. This cannot be real.

Then Eddie notices something else, he’s wearing an apron, and in his arms is a crate of apples. He fucking works here. Oh god. Oh, god, no! Eddie starts to feel like he's overheating, and he’s eyelids flutter unintentionally.

“You ok dere, buddy?” The man’s smile and amusement take an eighty per cent plummet as they look over Eddie with concern.

He’s overwhelmed by everything happening right now, the whole day of mistakes leading up to it, questioning if it was even the right choice to come to the city in the first place. If all of these things were glaring warning signs, pointing him to go back home to Hawkins, stop chasing stupid dreams, and get a job with his Uncle Wayne at the factory. And this…this man at his local store of all places spelt trouble for him. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t good at hiding his thoughts or feelings. 

That was it decided. He would turn around now, go pack, and go home. This was a stupid idea. Eddie feels a tightness across his shoulders start to spread, his palms heat up, and he realises he’s been staring into space for the last few seconds. 

He tries to run, but his legs suddenly feel like lead, and though he’s stopped, the world spins around a few more times. Instead of the street being in his eye line, the horizon starts to fall, and all he can see is the sky before he feels his back hit something, but it's not hard like the ground. Soon, the horizon returns, as does the street and the face of an angel, moving him to sit on the ground outside the store, next to a pyramid of oranges.

“I need ya to sit right here, ok buddy. I’m gonna get ya some water, alright?” the angel’s mouth moves, and Eddie watches it seriously to make sure he can hear every one of his precious words.

He pats him on the shoulders, steps toward the store door, and pauses before looking back and tilting his head, “What's ya name?”

He is still a little dizzy, but he knows the answer to that question, “Eddie.” he replies quickly. 

The man smiles hugely and repeats his name like he’s testing it out. He places his toothpick behind his ear, “I’m Stefano, yous can call me Steve. Most do,” he gives him a little two-finger wave and disappears inside the store.

Eddie nods a dopey smile of thanks and then tries to take in his surroundings but nearly snaps his neck, looking back just as the guy goes through the door. Holy heck. Turns out it wasn’t just the front of this guy that was stunning. Eddie blows out a breath and stares at the ground. Yeah, this was bad, very bad. He needed to get his things and go home. Maybe getting knocked out by three guys might be slightly less painful than what this situation could be.

Eddie wobbles to his feet and walks to his bag and drawing equipment strewn across the sidewalk.

“EY! I thought I told you to sit right ‘dere?” Steve orders with a loud authority, and there is a clatter of something wooden.

“I’m fine, really,” Eddie says quickly, avoiding looking at him.

“You ain’t fine, buddy. You near hit da deck twice!” Steve says, grabbing his elbow and pulling him back towards the store. Eddie’s eyes turn to him again, and he feels all resistance leave him entirely and is seated on an upturned wooden container. Eddie notices that Steve has made a makeshift table and two chairs entirely out of crates. 

He can’t resist looking back over at him as he bends over to pick up Eddie’s things from the ground, and an internal battle rages as Eddie has to force himself to look elsewhere. This guy had been kind, so far anyway, so it wasn’t right to gawk at him, and also, Eddie shouldn’t be ogling guys. That was a one-way ticket to getting your head kicked in town.

Eddie’s stomach drops as he sees Steve stand and observe the sketch pad as he walks back over to him, “Oh…er… it's not what you think. I swear,” Eddie quickly defends.

“What? That you ain’t an artist?” Steve looks up at him, confused.

“No, well, kinda. I men. Fuck. I mean, “ As Steve’s eyes meet his own with a smirk, he gets lost in his eyes again, “Shit, I don't know what I mean.” He says finally with what he is sure is the dopiest, enamoured smile on his face.

Steve sits on the crate opposite him and hands him back his things apart from the pad he’s still observing. Eddie follows his eyes as they trail over the paper and watches his beautiful long lashes bat as he blinks. He vows to draw them all night until he has a perfect version and then hide it in an old tome in the national library so they’ll never be forgotten by time.

“OK, first, your soda. Hope dats alright. I thought yous might need the sugar,” he turns and whacks the cap off the bottle against the store window ledge. The muscles in his arm visibly flex as he does so and offers it over to Eddie, who accepts it gratefully and quickly diverts his eyes to the bottle itself.

For a second, Eddie's fingers brush against Steve’s, making the skin tingle like there is static between them, and he finds himself avoiding his eyes again as he drinks.

Eddie has not been shy since he can remember. He’s an all-singing, all-dancing, one-man vaudeville extravaganza, and he was trying to be a quieter, more reflective version of himself, but he wasn’t trying to be shy. But this guy made him feel goofy. Like someone had injected him with pure intoxication. Eddie knows he should stop biting the inside of his lip and stop staring, but he feels like it’s out of his control. The universe had put this heavenly body in Levis before him, and what was he supposed to do? Reject the gift? Force his way out of its orbit? No, but he didn’t want to repay the guy's kindness with his weird staring, so he kept trying to focus on other things. Anything that might save him from the flawless man realising he was appreciating him in a more than friendly way.

Eddie figures he must be doing an okay job. The guy hasn’t exhibited any of the usual aggressive tells Eddie had learned in Hawkins. When you're eager for a kiss or to dodge a fist, you learn to be observant of that shit quickly.

Steve tilts his head into his eye line, and once he has his attention, he moves it back to upright and smiles and asks, “Now I got a coupla questions, alright witcha?” Eddie nods in agreement as his eyes obediently follow him, as does the same smile he can’t seem to wipe from his face.

“You don’t sound like yous from here. You lost?” He asks.

Eddie shakes his head, “Nah, not lost. Not at all,” he means that he feels found when Steve looks at him, “But I did only get here last night,” Eddie offers up freely, and part of his brain is too slow to protest the fact he shouldn’t be telling a stranger more than they ask for.

Steve’s smile widens, “Dat makes sense,” Eddie watches his fingers trail over the paper where the cigarette has burned the pages, and a fresh feeling of embarrassment floods him. He could have taken the three of them. This guy sure wasn’t going to be impressed when he found out he’d effectively run away.

“It does?” Eddie asks, suddenly eager to have Steve look at him again.

“Yeah. I ain’t seen you before. Woulda remembered,” Steve sends him a charming boyish smile as the toothpick in his mouth moves from one side of his mouth to the other, “So, uh-“ he starts but is quickly interrupted.

“STEFANO!! ‘Owa, long is it gonna take for yous to finish the apples, eh? We’ll have a whole orchard ina here beforea you’re done. Amonini!” A woman’s voice rings out loud and clear, bursting the dreamy bubble Eddie was sitting in.

He looks over for Steve’s reaction. His eyes are wide, and a faint blush hits his cheeks and jaw, “‘Scuse me, Eddie,” he pockets Eddie’s pad in his apron and returns to the crate of apples Eddie had seen him carrying. He sets it out on the sloped display and is about to sit back down when he’s stopped in his tracks again.

“Stefano!! Why you no answer me?” The woman’s voice calls out again, annoyed and getting closer. Eddie watches Steve close his eyes slowly and slams down the second crate.

“IM DOIN’ IT, MA!” He yells back at the top of his lungs, goes back inside and re-emerges with another few crates piled up on top of one another.

“Urgh dissa boy, I swear. STEFANO!” Eddie hears the woman very clearly now, even though she isn’t shouting, and he looks up to see an open window she must be upstairs.

“MA! I'M DOING IT ALREADY!” Steve yells back, his beautiful brow frowns petulantly as he roughly shoves the crates into the display in an adorable little tantrum.

“Why you take-a so long? Huh?”

“Ma! I just fucking stepped foot out here! Gimme a fuckin’ chance! I’m only one man! Jesus!” 

“STEFANO EMILIO HARRINGTON, Don-na tell me you takin’ Jesus’ name in vain,” her voice travels around the place until Eddie hears the sound of footsteps and the ring of the bell as the door is yanked open. A woman’s face emerges. Initially, she looks furious, “Listen to how my son talks to me. You heara dat? What kinda terrible mother have I been to deserve that? Oh, the worst!” It feels like she says it to Eddie, but her words could have been for anyone in earshot.

Eddie's eyes turn to Steve, who, though now quite red in the face, probably from carrying all those crates around, is having some kind of absolutely silent conversation with his mother. It was the complete opposite of the yelling match they were just having. They gesture their hands in pointed, stern ways at first. Fingers pinched together, their eyes and faces express some kind of disagreement that soon dissolves to calm, and his mother’s eyes turn to Eddie for a second before she turns back to Steve and drags her thumb down her cheek with a big smile at him. He shrugs and looks a little bashful. She nods and goes back inside.

He watches Steve take a deep breath, and he walks over to sit back down on his crate seat, “Sorry ‘bout dat. So, uh, are you an artist den?” He pulls the pad back out and places it between them.

The sudden intrusion of Steve’s mom seems to give Eddie some of the English language back, “ I, um, yeah, I like to draw, but I wanna write,” he says and takes a swig of his drink immediately after speaking, to prevent himself from waffling too much.

“Oh, like for da paper?”

“Uh, well, maybe,” Eddie cannot bring himself to tell this beautiful being he’s wrong, “But books mostly. Stories and things like that,” now he feels that shyness again. Sometimes, it feels dumb to talk about his dreams out loud. Steve probably thinks he’s an idiot without a real job, but there isn’t a crumb of negativity on Steve’s face, just a broad smile.

“O’ course, you write stories and draw. Course ya do,” he says with a happy shake of his head, “Well ya know, if, er, yeah, I can always put a word in for you at da paper. I knowaguy,” Steve offers kindly, and Eddie can feel himself falling in love with how he talks with every word he says, on top of how kind and beautiful he is.

“Gee, that’d be swell,” Eddie says, unable to hide his gigantic grin.

Steve taps his finger on the pad, “I think. I might know these girls,” though Steve says it with a smile, Eddie freezes. Worried this man’s initial kindness was going to sour quickly now. He probably thinks the same as the guy outside his building. He feels such an idiot for drawing it in the first place, but he doesn’t see anything wrong in it because, for starters, one was an actual child, and the other two were beautiful. He could see that, but the same way he’d feel about a sunset or a lovely tree, not beautiful like attraction, not like he felt about Steve, but he couldn’t just tell someone that, so he plays along.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie keeps it short and tries not to make this worse than it needs to be.

“Yeah, dis one with da book. ‘Dats Nancy, she used to be my girl,” Steve says, not taking his eyes from the pad. Eddie's space rocket of impossible dreams explodes before it even leaves the stratosphere and sends his stomach plummeting. What did he expect, though, really? Steve’s finger moves across the paper, and he taps the heads of the other two girls, “Deez two, my sisters.” Shit. Eddie feels the need to run. This guy is gonna flip out any minute and probably crush his head like a melon between two of these wooden crates. But both through fear and the fact that Steve raises his soulful brown eyes to meet his, he stays put.

He knows he should say something, but he’s struggling to find the right watertight words and has no chance of being misunderstood. But he can’t think straight when he can see almost every small pigment detail in Steve’s eyes and presses his lips together, afraid he might just say something about them instead.

A loud slam of a car door pushes a word out of Eddie, “B-beautiful,” he blurts out.

“Oh,” Steve replies and pushes the pad over to Eddie. The smile fades from his lips, and Eddie hates it, so he just lets his motormouth let rip.

“The scene. I mean. The scene was beautiful. Not the girls. I mean, yes, they are beautiful, but I don't mean in that way. They were together but so different, and when I sat down to draw, they were perfectly framed from where I was sitting. I was inspired by them, you know? Like a nice tree or something. Back home is so different from here. All I had to draw sometimes were nice trees. I don’t know why I’m telling you about nice trees. I’m just saying that I didn't mean any harm. I know better now. I won’t do it again. I swear. This city has plenty more things that are inspiring. I just thought they looked kinda like if a personality was a group of people. I thought that fit this place because it's a huge mixture of cultures, sounds, and sights.”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave Eddie’s, “Da girl holdin’ the book. Dat’s Nancy. We used to date a while back. She’s real smart. I reckon yous two would get along real well. I could introduce ya if you want?”

“Oh god, no!” Eddie says way too quickly, with a laugh, “I mean, no, thank you. I’m not looking for a girl. I mean, I’m not looking to date right now. But thank you.” he awkwardly recovers as quickly as he can. Well, at least hopes he has. He thinks maybe he’s slightly successful as Steve leans forward a little to rest his chin on his fist, and a smile reappears.

“You know, maybe you could do it from here next time you wanna draw or write? ‘Deres normally a table, but I had to take it inside to fix somethin’ on it,” Eddie glimpses through the window of the store and quite clearly can see two elderly gentlemen playing checkers on it, “It’d be nice to have a creative type use it, prob’ly attract more people like ‘dat. If you wan’ I mean,” he says kindly.

Eddie can’t believe his luck. Yeah, sure, today had started off a complete mess, but now he had a movie-star-looking guy, basically saying, spend time with me every day, doing what you love. If it wasn’t for how Steve flips the toothpick around in his mouth, Eddie would have been completely lost in his eyes and swooned clear off the crate in front of him.

“Gosh, that's really kind of you. When are you usually here? Every day?” Eddie asks, maybe a little too enthusiastically, which makes Steve laugh, and it might be sweeter than morning birdsong to Eddie’s ears.

“Well-” Steve starts but is interrupted as the bell above the door rings again.

His mom emerges with a tray of coffee and tiny cups. This time, Eddie jumps to his feet to introduce himself properly and not just sit and stare. He quickly neatens up his clothes and clumsily tries to angle his leg, so it hides the tear in his pants. He almost laughs at his eagerness to impress her. He supposes he is new and wants to make a good impression, but he knows it's more than that. He knows that his fantasy brain is running away with him again, trying to impress the object of his affection’s mother. Like this could ever be a thing.

The small woman has beautifully coiffed dark brown hair, and her eyes look just the same as Steve’s, except her’s are expertly lined with makeup. She beams at Eddie as she sets the tray on the crate, which wobbles, and Steve rushes inside the store momentarily. Leaving Eddie and his mom smiling awkwardly at one another for a moment. Eddie can hear some raised voices but can’t make out any of the words the raised voices are exchanging and figures they must be talking in Italian. The two elderly men from inside emerge, grumbling. One with the checkerboard under his arm storms out first, followed by a second, who flicks his hand under his chin at Steve, who laughs and yells after them, “Well, if yous two ordered more dan a biscotti to share every day, den maybe you’d keep the table!” he shakes his head, “Fuckin’ stunad,”

“Stefano!” his mom reprimands him as he exchanges the crates for actual furniture. He seats his mom first as if that doesn't make Eddie’s heart beat faster with how sweet he is. He looks at Eddie and then down at the tray, and for a second, Eddie can’t do anything except look back like he’s hypnotised or something, but his mom coughs daintily, and Eddie realises what he needs to do and lifts the tray, as Steve swaps in a small table, and goes rushes back into the store and virtually jumps down the steps on his return, puts a chair one side of his mom, and then walks around to where Eddie and set down the last chair.

“Ma, dis is Eddie,” Steve whacks him hard on the back, and Eddie has to pinch his lips together in a smile to stop the oof from being expelled from them, from the sheer force of it, “He’s gonna be a big shot writer, ain’t dat right, Ed?”

Eddie dared not look at Steve right now. He was so close he felt the breath that contained his abbreviated name against his cheek. He keeps his eyes on Steve’s mom and offers an upturned hand towards her. She looks at him strangely but obliges him, putting her hand in his, and he kisses the back of it.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m sure gonna try to make it at least,” he smiles back as she raises an eyebrow at Steve with an impressed face, and Eddie feels like this is his first shoot and success of the day.

But he’s not ready for feeling Steve’s warm hand slide against the small of his back as he guides him down into his chair and tucks it in for him, “Dere you go, much better, right?” Steve says happily as he returns to his own seat, and Eddie’s eyes obediently follow him all the way there, but when Steve’s eyes catch his again, he quickly looks away.

“You look, uh, wassa the word, similar,” his mom says, pulling his attention from the mosaic pattern on the tiny cups and saucers.

“It’s familiar, Ma,” Steve corrects, gently pouring the coffee into the cups from an odd-looking contraption.

“Ah, yeah, familiar,” she moves a finger quickly in front of her face, “Your eyes.”

“Oh, maybe you know my Mama, I mean mom,” Eddie says, quickly correcting himself again, but Steve and his mom exchange a happy look with one another and then back at Eddie, so he figures maybe they at least found it amusing rather than stupid.

“What's her name?” Steve asks, passing a tiny cup and saucer to his mom first and then to Eddie.

“Esmerelda,” Eddie tries, but two blank faces look back at him, “Uh, Esmerelda Munson, she lives right over there,” Eddie points out the building as he turns behind him.

The clatter of a teaspoon makes him spin around quickly to two now stunned faces.

“You're dat Eddie? Mrs Munson’s boy?” Steve asks hurriedly. 

Though the fear swirls in his gut that maybe his reputation might have preceded him, he’s in too deep to lie, “Yeah, you know her?” he says, swallowing nervously.

Steve’s mom claps her hands together, holds them up to her mouth like she's in prayer, and looks up to the canopy above them with a big smile.

“We sure do,” Steve grins, “She helped us out a lot when Pa passed. She’s a real kind lady.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must be difficult,” Eddie adds somberly as he watches how Steve drinks from the small cup and saucer and copies him. He understands immediately why this stuff is sipped and is in such tiny cups. It's much richer than regular coffee, almost thicker, and sweet too. It's delicious. Eddie can’t help himself and takes another sip immediately and lets out an involuntary sound of appreciation before setting down his cup.

“Si, a real, uh, ball-busta,” Steve's mom says happily.

Eddie nearly chokes on thin air as Steve complains, “Ma! Jesus! You don’t say that!” but Eddie can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, I guess she is a bit,” he beams at Steve’s mom, who pats pinches his cheek.

“Biddicchiu,” she laughs with him as Steve passes her the sketch pad and juts his thumb towards Eddie. Her eyes scan over the paper.

“I said Ed was welcome to work from here if he wants,” Steve says, “Hope dats ok?”

His mom nods, then gestures to the cigarette burn on the paper and the scuff marks. She speaks to Steve in Italian. Eddie guesses that because he can’t understand much, but he recognises her anger when she points her hand sharply at Eddie’s building, frowns deeply, and taps her temple. Eddie stays quiet and watches Steve reassure her.

“Can I have dissa one?” she says, gesturing at Eddie’s drawing.

“Yeah, but I can draw you a better one than that, on nicer-” Eddie starts, but she has already torn out the paper and folded it away in her own apron pocket.

“Ma says you’re welcome here anytime,” Steve smiles at him. Eddie is pretty sure there is more to what his mom said than that, but he doesn't want to press it, “We live just above here, so, uh, it dont matter what da time is, you know? One-a us’ll be here.” 

“Thank you, that's real kind,” Eddie says politely.

Steve's mom grips Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him seriously, “Listen to me, don-a talk widda, those boys over there. They no good. You come here, we not mucha further. Then your mama, no worry,” Eddie nods, and her red lipstick smile adorns her face again, “Besides, we gotta good food, better coffee, and a much nicer view, uh?” Eddie follows her eyes to Steve, who is blushing. Maybe he’s a bit embarrassed because he’s also had a run-in with those guys.

“Yeah, much better,” Eddie agrees, and Steve’s mom pats his cheek.

“Smart boy,” she says happily and looks up at Eddie’s building again, “I think deeza buildings so close you could see Stefano’s window from yours,” Eddie has no idea why she’s blessing him with this information, but his brain rapidly works out that he could probably see it from his own bedroom.

“MA!” Steve says in alarm and nudges her, then hurriedly clears up the tray as she lets out a melodic laugh, clutching her sides. Her eyes trail after him as he goes inside.

She turns back to Eddie, “My boy, he's good. Make you-a good friend. Yes?” She asks and puts a finger to her cheek and twists it around. She looks encouragingly at him, “You like?” She repeats the gesture against her cheek.

“Yes,” Eddie says enthusiastically. Even though he doesn't just like it here. He loves it here. They’d been so friendly and obviously tried to not think about the other things he liked about here.

“Si,” She says, takes Eddie's hand, and makes him mirror her gesture.

She lets go and tries again, “You like?”

“Si,” Eddie repeats and actions the gesture himself this time. She claps her hands together happily.

As Steve rejoins them, she starts talking at him, rapidly gesturing with her hands between himself and Steve. He can pick out his name and cafe, which he thinks must be related to coffee.

“Alright, alright, geez ma,” Steve says, looking a little confused at her and then turns to Eddie, “Before she has some kinda fit aboudit, she wants me to ask if yous liked the espresso,” Steve looking at him with a bashful smile.

Eddie is nudged in the ribs by Mrs Harrington, who nods encouragingly at him again. He cautiously raises his finger to his cheek and turns it, “Si?” he says awkwardly and looks between them.

At first, Steve's mouth parts ever so slightly, like he's going to say something, then his eyes move to his mom, and he shakes his head but can’t seem to wipe the smirk from his face.

The bell over the door rings, and they all turn towards it, and the customer that just entered. Steve stands, but his mother shakes her head at him and gently pushes him back into his seat as she stands up. At the door, she turns back to Eddie, “If your mama worksa late, you come eat with us.” That didn't sound like a question to Eddie, but he nodded anyway. She tuts and tilts her head at him, a playful frown on her brow.

“Si,” Eddie tries again, and she looks delighted as she ruffles Steve’s hair and walks into the store.

“Sorry about dat,” Steve says, picking at the table, “She’s a a lot sometimes.”

“Oh, I didn't mind at all,” Eddie replies truthfully, and suddenly, he remembers why he was coming this way anyway, “Oh god, food. Yeah, I have to get food, that's…” Eddie rummages through his things and finds the notepaper.

“Want some help?” Steve asks, standing at the same time Eddie does.

“No, you’ve done so much already. I couldn’t keep taking up your time like this,” Eddie laughs awkwardly, but all he really wants to do is say yes.

Steve waves his hand, “It’s no trouble for a paying customer,” He says and walks towards the steps to the store with Eddie. As they reach the door, Steve pushes it open for him, “Allow me, Sir,” he chuckles and follows Eddie inside.

Steve guides him around the place, helps Eddie find everything on his list, and puts an extra small box on top as he rings up the groceries.

“What's that?” Eddie asks curiously.

“Cannoli, your Ma likes ‘em,” Steve answers as Eddie places the money in his hand, trying not to let his fingers linger against his palm longer than they should.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Eddie smiles, unsure exactly what it was, but he’d be sure to pass it on, all the same.

“Want me to walk you home? I’ll make sure Billy, Jason and Tommy don't give you any trouble,” Steve says, leaning over the counter towards him.

Something about that made Eddie’s heart race, but he didn't want to appear weak, “No, it's fine. I’m used to it, just it was my first day here, and it kinda got to me, is all.” And that doesn't feel like as much of a lie as it seemed. Having this oasis of safety with Steve and his family didn’t make the thought of Billy and his goons seem so awful.

“You still gonna come by tomorrow?” Steve genuinely asks, his eyes big and innocent, scanning over Eddie as he gathers the grocery bags.

“Yeah, course I will,” Eddie answers like Steve asked him the most ridiculous question in the history of all mankind, “I feel pretty inspired again already,” Eddie smiles fondly at Steve, who was rapidly becoming one of his favourite things in the universe.

“Yeah?” Steve says, plucking the toothpick from behind his ear and putting it back in his mouth, “I reckon dis place could maybe be a great beginning…for your story, I mean,” he says, walking around the counter and holding the door open for Eddie again, following him outside.

“Tomorrow then,” Eddie smiles at him, trying not to sigh because tomorrow already felt too far away. Steve nods back, and Eddie catches a glimpse of Steve’s mom in the window. He gives her a wave and starts walking back to the apartment.

As he reaches the corner, he looks back. He can see Mrs Harrington buzzing and fussing around Steve, who looks like he is laughing and pretending to fight her off. He smiles to himself, and with the staircase of the building clear of idiots, he thinks that maybe Steve is right. 

This could be a perfect place for the beginning of his new story.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie month #eddiemonth #madaboutmunson #eddie month week 1 #madaboutmunsonSHC

[lady-lostmind]

Eddie Month Day Twenty-five: Songwriting/Melancholy

Eddie leans back in his chair, mumbling under his breath as he scribbles in the notebook on his lap. Tries to get the words to fit together, figure out a melody, already hearing a little guitar riff to go along in the back of his head. He’ll need to switch gears and pluck that out on his guitar soon so he doesn’t lose it. But he wants to figure these lyrics out. Needs to get this out, somehow. Can’t stand to sit with this ridiculous longing feeling anymore. Knows it’s ridiculous. That he should be happy. He’s not fucking dead, for one. The world didn’t end. He’s not in jail for a slew of murders he didn’t commit. He has people, now. More people than he ever has before. He should be fucking estatic. But here he sits. Wallowing around in feelings of woe. 

Eddie sighs and slumps his head back, stubbing out the butt of the cigarette that has mostly burned itself down in his fingers untouched. He pushes the notebook away and rubs a hand down his face before reaching over to grab the pack of cigarettes off the table. He pulls one out, popping it in his mouth and going to light it when there’s a knock at the door. Eddie’s eyes flick over to watch Steve lean against the doorframe, a big grin on his face. 

Eddie’s mouth quirks up in response and he takes a long drag from his cigarette, purposefully ignoring the intense swoop his stomach takes as he looks at Steve and all his stupid, perfect hair. “Hey there, big boy. How’s it hangin?”

@eddiemonth

#eddie munson #eddie month #day twenty-five

[ent-is-indecisive]

id : a digital painting in shades of orange and ocre of steve and eddie kissing. they have their hand in each others' hair, steve has a bandana around his neck and eddie has a hat. over them in the corners are some stickers, in the shapes of stars, a lasso, a fancy boot, a trans symbol and a frilly heart which reads "pardner"./end id

oct 9 : cowboys for @eddiemonth

if you're looking for pretty men/gay cowboys i urge you to check out noahdea.art on instagram

#birdsongisland #steddie #eddie month #eddie munson #steve harrington #i did no research whatsoever only noah

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 3rd: School | Bad Reputation - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts | Combative

cw: pre-steddie (vaguely set s2), weed, migraines, un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

It’s 1985 and the boys bathroom smells like weed.

Interestingly, the boys bathroom smells like weed before Eddie ditches his last period to smoke in the little cement block room, window cracked and far less obvious than whoever’s in there ahead of him.

Probably a Freshman who doesn’t know any better, or some first-timer who hasn’t learned the ropes yet, he thinks to himself. 

What he doesn’t expect to find when he pushes the heavy wooden door open is recently dethroned King Steve, sitting on the disgusting tile floor smoking a poorly rolled joint in the corner of the bathroom. Wedged between the sink and the wall, he looks… small, sad, lost, even. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d recruit him for Hellfire. He certainly looks the part of lost sheep. 

Steve startles when the door opens and, in what may be the only time in Eddie’s many years at Hawkins High, relaxes when he sees Eddie. Steve’s eyes widen and then look away, back down at his hands. His shoulders clench and drop. His entire body seems to move to defend itself before retreating back into whatever stupor he’s smoking himself into. 

Eddie has no idea what the fuck is happening that Steve Harrington doesn’t take him as a threat after his years of proving himself to be just that. Nor can he imagine what the fuck Steve’s experienced that’s caused it. Seconds pass and Eddie just stands there, door closed behind him, unsure of what to do. Hotboxing the bathroom with Steve hadn’t been his plan, but he’s been desperate for just a few drags off the joint sitting heavy in his pocket all day. 

“You uh, you know that window opens, right?” Eddie asks, gesturing toward the window with his chin. 

Steve doesn’t look up. “Sure do.” 

“Got it. Cool. Okay, uh—” Eddie sputters. He’s had very few interactions with Steve, each one civil enough to leave no bad blood besides the company Steve keeps. Or, well, kept. But none have been long enough for Eddie to get a handle on Steve, not in the way he usually can.

Steve sighs and begins to stand. “I’ll get outta your way, man.” 

Something in the way he moves, the way he grips the sink edge tight and rocks once to gain momentum before Eddie stops him, reminds Eddie of Wayne. Veteran Wayne, who works a harsh manual job and is no less than 25 years their senior. That can’t be normal, he thinks. 

“Hey no, I’m uh, actually here for the same reason. Mind if I just,” Eddie trails off as he locks the door and wiggles his joint around, holding it between his pointer and middle finger. “I’ll crack the window so we don’t get busted.” 

“Yeah, I don’t care, but leave the window closed. It’s too fucking loud.” Steve shrugs and Eddie stops mid-stride. 

Eddie looks back down at the spot Steve has settled back into, his head carefully resting against the painted cinder block wall with closed eyes. It’s easier to watch him like this, long eyelashes spidering across his cheeks and brows furrowing. A tiny line appears between them, vertical, and Eddie holds himself back from smoothing it out. 

“Alright, just know we’re probably gonna get caught.” Eddie compromises as he sits on a toilet, the stall door open, and lights up. 

The flick of his lighter brings him a moment’s comfort, followed by the familiar warmth curling into his lungs. His throat burns and he coughs once, then twice, before exhaling. Little puffs of smoke leave his lips in one long, continuous breath. Immediately, the frustration of his meeting with the guidance counselor, the anger at his English teacher for failing him when he was fucking trying, the shame and disappointment of having to go home and tell Wayne he’s being left back– again– vanish. He knows it’s temporary, that it’ll all come rushing back to him in an hour or two, but for now, his brain is quiet. 

For now, the bathroom is silent. Long moments pass in surprisingly comforting stillness, just Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington in the strangest show of camaraderie imaginable. 

Eventually though, Eddie’s lips loosen.  

“Why are you in here anyways? Shouldn’t you be like… I don’t know,” Eddie starts, miming the act of dribbling a basketball. “Doing some sport thing?”

“I do more than play sports, Munson.” Steve’s eyes roll and he shakes his head, grimacing at the movement. Eddie can’t quite put it together, what that reaction means. 

“Huh. Coulda fooled me. And probably like, the rest of the school’s population. The rest of your Kingdom,” Eddie teases, gesturing widely with both arms. 

“There’s no Kingdon, you ass. Much as you pretend to stay outta the gossip, I know you know what happened. And I’m glad it did, so drop it, okay?”

Steve has a bite to him, an attitude that Eddie admires and can’t help push a bit further. 

“So you fall from grace and now you sit on grungy bathroom floors to smoke? Alone? That’s sorta my thing, just say–”

Eddie’s words get drowned out when Steve interrupts. “I’m down here smoking, alone, because I have a fucking migraine. If I have to see one more fluorescent light or hear one more high-pitched screech in the hallway, my brain is going to leak out of my goddamn ears.” 

Even stoned, Eddie puts it together all at once. The closed window. The cool tiles. The struggle to get up. He doesn’t know the full story, but he remembers Steve walking around with his face beaten in and the rumors that it’d been Billy’s doing during a fight, and the time before that, when Jonathan had gotten a few good shots in. Damn his bleeding heart, but Steve suddenly feels more like a lost sheep than he could’ve imagined.

Someone Eddie feels the urge to protect. 

Eddie stands carefully, all too aware of the sound of his own footsteps as he finds the hidden switch to turn the lights off. There’s still a tiny bit of light filtering in from beneath the door and through the window, but it’s darker. Safer. 

“I can be quiet.” 

Steve looks up at him, brows drawn tight in confusion, and Eddie’s chest aches. How infrequently does someone care for Steve?

“I’ve been in classes with you. I’m not so sure you can,” Steve retorts, a little less sarcastic now. Eddie makes a show of sitting back down on the toilet and mimicking zipping his lips and throwing away a key. It gets an actual laugh from Steve, and goddamn him, Eddie loves the sound of that. 

Eddie watches as Steve’s eyes close again, this time with a relaxed forehead, and stares at him while they  finish their joints. Alone, together. Maybe they could actually be friends, Eddie and Steve. Steve and Eddie. There’s a ring to it that Eddie hates because of how good it sounds. 

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by a rattling at the door and subsequent pounding. Steve’s eyes open and dart between Eddie and the door. “Fuck,” he whispers. 

Fuck is right, Eddie thinks. If he wasn’t already getting held back again, he would be now for what he’s about to do.

He crouches over next to Steve and takes what’s left of his joint from his fingers. “Do you have anything else on you?” 

Steve shakes his head No and opens his mouth, only for Eddie to press a finger against his lips. “Get in the stall and flush the toilet when I open the door.” 

“What–”

“Get in the stall,” Eddie whispers harshly, helping Steve to stand and all but shoving him in the stall he’d been in previously. 

“Dude, they’re gonna know I’m here, it’s fine,” Steve resigns. 

“Not if you have nothing on you, just say you had to take a piss and I was already in here. I’ve got a reputation, you don’t. Who are they gonna believe? Besides, I’m not graduating and you are. Consider it a graduation gift.” 

Before he can open the bathroom door, before he takes the fall as planned because of course, the principal believes the story they’d concocted, Eddie feels Steve place a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks.“

As he’s dragged to the Principal's office and suspended, an all too familiar setting, he hopes it’s not the last time he gets to smoke with Steve Harrington.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie month #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myfic #eddie month prompts

[stevesjockstrap]

Eddie Month day 7

Prompt: Wayne & warm

Wayne knew his nephew had been seeing someone and trying to hide it. He was gone more, smiling more, and if he was being completely honest, showering more. There had even been a few mornings when he’s gotten home from working third shift that he thought Eddie might’ve just snuck someone out of their trailer. He couldn’t be sure of course, but the guilty look Eddie had given him and the quick anxious breathing he had been doing made him think he’d been up to something. There was also a time he'd come home wearing a suspiciously not-his-own jacket that Eddie had gone red-faced and stammery about when asked. Wayne had shrugged it off. He was a nineteen year old boy once, too. He was a little more put out by the fact that his nephew hadn’t told him about this person and instead thought he had to sneak around. 

When he switched days with a guy at work, he maybe forgot to mention it to Eddie.

“You got plans tonight?” He drawled, keeping his voice casual as his nephew came out of the shower with a shirt that wasn’t ripped to shreds (the jeans were still ripped in the knees but he was done trying to have that conversation). 

“Uhhh, yeah, why are you- uh, I mean, it’s Friday, shouldn’t you be at work?” Eddie turned his wide eyes from him to peer out the window anxiously.

“Swapped with Gary for Monday. Your date coming here, then?” 

Eddie’s shoulders slumped. “Fuck, Wayne. How long have you known?”

“Just guessed, it’s been good to see you happy, is all.”

He sat at their tiny dining room table with him, leaning over to hang his head into his hands. “I wasn’t not telling you, I just… didn’t want to get excited over nothing, or, I dunno, jinx it. He's-" His head shot up, his eyes even wider and stared at him like he hadn't meant to say that. Like Wayne hadn't been expecting that or knew his nephew well enough to know the truth since right after he came to live with him.

"He treats you right?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah, he does." A small smile appeared on his face.

"That's all I care about. So, do I get to meet him finally?"

"Oh. Um, yeah, sure. Of course. He should be here soon. His parents are home, so, uh-" Eddie looked sheepish again.

"So you were going to be here, and I'm crashing your date. I can clear out, that's no problem."

Eddie looked even more put out, somehow. "No! No way. I'm not kicking you out on your only night off, you can hang out with us, we're just-"

The door opened and one Steve Harrington was standing in his living room staring at him. "Oh. Um, hi Mr. Munson, I was just, uh, stopping by for..." he stared between the two men at the table then finally grabbed the back of his neck anxiously.

"It's okay, Steve, he already knows." Eddie was grinning at him, and stood up to pull his hand away from his neck to hold it. "Guess we weren't being very covert. Uncle Wayne, I know you already sort of know Steve, but uh, this is my boyfriend."

"Good to finally meet you, Steve. I hear you two were supposed to hang out here, and I don't want to interrupt, so I can get out of your hair-"

Steve's eyebrows came together in a frown and he looked at Eddie. "No way, we're not kicking you out of your own house, we're just watching a movie and hanging out. If you want us to clear out, we can, we just- why are you both looking at me like that?"

Eddie and Wayne shared a knowing grin. This boy was good for his nephew, and he could tell he was genuine about his not wanting them to bother him. "That's almost word for word what Ed just told me when I offered."

"Oh. Well, that's good. What do you like on your pizza?"

They spent the evening watching some new horror movie that had come out on tape, the boys snuggled under a blanket on the sofa and him in his recliner. He was sure there were some kisses he didn't catch but other than that it felt calm and casual, like he had pictured any normal family movie night like he'd dreamed about having with his own family. Towards the end of the movie, he looked over and Eddie was asleep with his head on Steve's shoulder. They shared an affectionate smile and Wayne got up to rewind the tape before the static could wake him up.

"He always says he's going to make it 'til the end of the movie, but he never does. That's part of the reason I said it wouldn't matter if you stayed, this was pretty much the extent of our plans."

"It's good for him. And it means he feels safe with you. So, how long has this been a thing?" Eddie chuckled when Steve ducked his head. The kid definitely wore his heart on his sleeve, just like his nephew.

"I don't really know how to give a timeline, we sort of just fell into being friends, then suddenly it became more? We were kind of idiots for a while there." He laughed and when it made Eddie shift closer to him, he stopped with a shy smile.

"It seems like it's going well though," he surmised. 

"I think so. I'm sorry we didn't tell you, and I'm sorry for all the sneaking around. We didn't like it either. Eddie was a mess. There was one day I definitely passed your car because we didn't time it well enough."

Wayne nodded. "Well now you can just spend the night and there won't be any issues." Wayne chuckled again at the look Steve gave him.

"Oh. Um, I mean if that's alright with you. I'd understand, like, I can sleep on the couch, or-"

"When you were sneaking out, were you sneaking out from my couch, son?"

"No, sir."

"None of that, either. You're family now," he waved his hand in the air. "Keep taking care of my boy and I won't make a fuss about where I know you've already been sleeping. Far be it for me to take issue when I've seen how happy he's been."

Steve pulled his arm tighter around Eddie and nodded. "I'm really happy, too."

@eddiemonth @lighthousebeams

#Eddie month #eddie month fic #Eddie munson #wayne Munson #steddie #steve harrington #mine #stranger things #stranger things fic #Steddie fic

[shares-a-vest]

@eddiemonth Day 8: Rockstar, Confident

Word Count: 952 Rating: T | cw: No Happy Ending, Break-Up Fic, No Resolution, Hurt No Comfort My first post for Eddie Month! With this event's prompts, I reallyyy want to challenge myself and write things I typically wouldn't/haven't so far. I'm sorry for starting out a week late with a no-happy-ending fic, I didn't mean for it to work out this way 😭😅 Thanks to both Lex and Lex for creating and hosting this event 💖💖💖

Since he was a boy, listening to a healthy combination of his mother's records and any and every radio station his dad could tune into, Eddie dreamed of being a rockstar.

When he was six, his grandma gifted him a battery-operated plastic microphone with sound effects. Later when he first moved in with his uncle and the Munson family had dwindled down to just the two of them, Wayne brought home an acoustic guitar from Goodwill.

Eddie practised and played away, sometimes for hours too long until underdeveloped callouses stung and bled. Wayne helped him paint 'This Machine Slays Dragons' on it so he could be just like Woody Guthrie, one of his mom's favourites.

He soon found his fellow bandmates in Jeff, Gareth and George. Gareth offered up his garage and Jeff came up with the name Corroded Coffin. Eddie and George made merch and drew up posters.

They practised and played until Gareth's mother kicked them out of the garage, complaining about what the neighbours might think of their noisy metal thrashing. They entered the Battle of the Bands contest in middle school, then started playing at The Hideout perhaps a few years too early for a handful of drunks who probably weren't listening anyway.

Then they spent the next few years scrimping and saving between jobs, travelling to other towns in his shitty van until they found an even shittier (but bigger) van and a studio that was willing to give them a booking to record a demo.

They shopped it around for a good long while as Eddie turned on his charm.

And one day they got a chance.

George called Eddie, frantically talking about a producer who wanted to re-record the demo with an expert on hand, all the while promising more music and a meeting with a potential manager.

And if all that wasn't enough, Eddie found himself with none other than Steve Harrington by his side.

After a good few years of pining and failed dates and the temporary comfort of other people, they finally got their act together. It was Christmas, just a few months after the demo got picked up. They kissed out on Claudia Henderson's front porch with snow falling around them as they promised each other more.

Then Corroded Coffin made it.

The perks came fast. Money – oh-so-much fucking money! Private cars and drivers to take them anywhere they wanted. Touring around the world and sightseeing between gigs. Adoring fans. Photoshoots. Magazine covers, interviews and TV spots.

Eddie always maintained it was about the music, though. The rush, the confidence and power it gave him to be performing on stage. Whether it be The Hideout or a goddamn stadium. It filled his soul from the moment he stepped on stage until the band finished their encore.

But most of all, he had Steve by his side. Always.

Until he didn't.

Until the night he got back to their hotel room, a swanky penthouse overlooking New York City that they always stayed in. They were barely a night out from returning back to the States from a quick promo tour in Europe for the new album.

Steve had left a note scrawled in his messy handwriting on the hotel's branded notepad.

'Going to Robin's' is all it said.

Eddie was angry at the time. He balled the note up in his fist and hurled it across the room.

At the time he was pissed because Steve was acting all bitchy pouty at the airport after barely speaking a word to him the whole flight. Then he was tapping away incessantly on the limo's middle armrest the whole car ride, looking at the window with his stupid Tom Cruise sunglasses on.

At the time he guessed it had something to do with the last night in Amsterdam. The band had a gig, the last one and Eddie just wanted some quiet so he skipped out on dinner, telling their security to pass the message on to Steve.

But it was just a tiff, right? Steve knew what it was like – how exhausting being on the road could get sometimes.

He thought Steve knew what the deal was, that he didn't mean anything by not going to dinner. Hell, Steve was used to a last-minute change of plans after years of this, right?

At least that's what Eddie told himself until Steve didn't call.

Or come back.

So, Eddie called Robin's number. No answer.

Then he asked Jeff to call, even their manager. Still nothing.

A call to Wayne made it real though.

"Eddie," his uncle had sighed, voice low and impossibly disappointed.

And then everything he had gained came to mean nothing.

As Eddie now stands at the door to Robin's apartment in Chicago, he knows he fucked up. Knows that it won't be easily forgiven.

Knows that Robin will probably cut his dick off if she arrives home from... Which gallery had she moved to, again? Steve told him. Weeks ago... months? He thinks...

He should have asked his publicist to look up the name of the gallery along with Buckley's address.

His stomach drops and tears begin to fall as Steve opens the door.

"Oh," his boyfr – Steve – mutters as his brows quickly knit together.

Eddie slaps his hand onto the doorframe, chancing the guy slamming the door shut and thus smooshing his guitar-wielding digits.

But then Steve rips off his wire-framed glasses and presses the heels of his palms into his reddening eyes.

"How could you just forget about me?" he sobs, his whole body shaking.

And Eddie is confident the sound of Steve choking on his own breath as he cries will haunt him for the rest of his life.

#made myself sad writing this outta nowhere in one of the stwg writing sprints and rolled with it #if i miss any tags indicating sad content let me know and I'll add it #no happy ending #hurt no comfort #rockstar!eddie munson #corroded coffin #eddie month #breakup fic #break up #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fanfiction

[steddieasitgoes]

For @eddiemonth day one prompt parents. | rated: t | wc: 899

cw: parental death, feelings of abandonment

A/N: technically, I'm cheating this because the start was originally a prologue for something else, but it never saw the light of day, and this is the perfect way to show it off now.

Eddie is used to being forgotten. 

It’s a feeling he had to get used to after that fateful day when he was just four years old. When the underpaid daycare worker, who always smelt like lavender and wore her whitening hair in a tight bun, swaddled him in his arms before securing him in the backseat of her car. 

He remembers her driving ten miles under the speed limit and mumbling about her lack of a car seat for him, even though car seats weren’t even mandatory, and he rarely rode in one because his father deemed them a waste of money.

Eddie didn’t know what was going on beyond the fact that his mom hadn’t shown up at her usual time to whisk him away for their secret ice cream mission before taking him home for the day. 

“Where’s my mommy?” he eventually asked, leaning his whole body between the driver and passenger seat. 

The daycare worker, whose name he has never remembered, shoved him back as gently as she could before sighing wetly. 

“You’re mommy? She uh… uh, she’s gone to a better place.” 

And what a fucked up thing to say to a four-year-old who has been left behind. A four-year-old with no concept of sayings that eluded death as a better place. A four-year-old, who moments ago, was dreaming about getting ice cream with the one person he could always rely on no matter what. 

“She forgot me?” he asked, his own voice wet as he felt the prickles of tears building in his eyes. 

“Oh, sweetie,” the woman had said, stomping on the break to turn and face him. Her eyes were red, clunky mascara streaking her cheeks. The wrinkles she tried to hide were more apparent than ever as she frowned at him. “She didn’t forget you; she just couldn’t take you.” 

Eddie had a hard time believing that. His mom wouldn’t have gone anywhere without him. It was the whole reason they were still living with his father in their cramped trailer on the outskirts of Hawkins. 

His mom wouldn’t leave him behind. Not when she spent every night tucking him safely into the bed in the living room after telling him about all the wonderful adventures they were going to go on as soon as she saved enough money to get them out of there. 

“Just a few more shifts,” she had said just two nights ago before kissing his forehead. “Two more shifts, my sweet boy, and then we’re out of here.” 

That mom wouldn’t have left him. 

Wouldn’t have forgotten him. 

But she had, in a way, because there Eddie was being handed off to Al Munson in the parking lot of Hawkins Memorial like a business transaction. No mom in sight. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with him?” the daycare worker had asked, swiping at her eyes, which only made the mascara worse. 

“He’s my boy, ain’t he?” Al said in that thick Southern drawl of his. “‘Course he’ll be alright.” 

It was enough to get the daycare worker to leave — to forget about four-year-old Eddie Munson as she climbed into the driver’s seat of her car and pulled out without so much as a second glance in her rearview mirror. 

“Come on now,” Al said, setting Eddie down with a bit too much force. “We’ve got things to do.” 

The things to do didn’t involve explaining to Eddie what happened or where his mother was. Instead, he spent the afternoon ice cream and mom-less, sitting idly in a crowded hospital waiting room while Al lay on the theatrics, crying and shouting about how he deserved justice for his wife. 

Justice in the form of a lofty settlement from the police cruiser that plowed into the back of her car on her way to pick up Eddie. 

Eddie didn’t learn of this until months later when he stole the papers from his father’s office and stumbled through the big words in the document, trying to understand what it all meant despite being only four years old. 

His mom always said he read above his age level. 

So, maybe his mom dying wasn’t her forgetting him per se, but it did lead to the chain reaction of him being forgotten. Because Al Munson only remembered his tiny, broken-hearted son when he needed something. 

Only remembered his existence when his day drinking and casual drug use gave him the shakes, and his hands were unable to cling to the wires of whatever car he deemed “borrow-able” that afternoon. 

It was only then that he remembered his buzzcut son cooped up in the living room, talking to himself like the weirdo he was already becoming. And it was only then that he’d spend “quality” time with Eddie, teaching him which wires to cut and where to cut them before shoving him under the driver’s seat of some Chevy. 

So, yeah, being forgotten is kind of Eddie’s thing, which is why it doesn’t surprise him that no one answering his calls for help. 

“Hey, Dustin. You there?” Eddie asks, tense as he looks out the window of the boathouse. “It’s Eddie. You remember me, right?” 

Nothing. 

“Hey, if anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here. Okay? Wheeler?” 

Silence. Static.

Eddie slaps his hand against the stupid walkie-talkie. 

“Anybody?” 

Yep, forgotten again. 

#eddiemonth #eddie month #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson headcanon #eddie fic #dani writes

[redlegumes]

Close up of my Week Four @eddiemonth comic, last page last panel but with .°˖✧sparkles✧˖°.

Full Comic

#Eddie Month #Eddie Month Week 4 #steddie #eddie munson #temporary break up #angst and fluff #steve harrington #corroded coffin #'freak' #jeff #gareth #stranger things #fanart #comic #kissing #sparkles #forgot the tattoos #i had covid while I drew this so I'm gonna blame that

[eddiemonth]

The prompts for today (Oct 29th) are:

Trick or Treating | I Put A Spell On You - Screamin' Jay Hawkins | Skeptical

We can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with, and remember we do take late submissions!

FAQ | Masterpost | Playlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson fan art #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #eddie month #stranger things prompt #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanart #stranger things fan art #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things