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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year

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Steve’s dad is the kind of guy who would have a kid with another woman and leave the baby with Steve to take care of. Unknowingly, to his dad, Steve is hiding Eddie Munson in his loft. His dad just dropped the baby off and left. That's when Eddie decided to wake up from his nap. He stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and his hair a mess. He was missing a sock. Steve stood at the counter with a baby on his hip.

"Oh, good, honey, I'm glad you're up. I think it's your turn to take care of our baby," Steve said.

"What the fuck? How long was I asleep for? Am I still awake?" Eddie asked.

"I think someone must have wished really hard because now we have a baby," he said sarcastically, messing with Eddie.

"Oh my God!"

Eddie was panicking. This was his fault. Stupid. He just had to go and imagine Steve with his baby, a baby that looks just like Steve. Of course, magic was real. The Upside Down was real. Eddie wondered if a fairy happened to be passing by when he made his wish.

"I'm sorry, Stevie, this is all my fault!" Eddie exclaimed.

"It's your fault that my dad passed off his child he had with another woman for me to raise?" Steve asked with amusement.

The little girl started making grabby hands at Eddie.

"Oh yeah, that makes more sense. Your dad is a dick, man. Ugh. Also, you cannot fuck with me when I just woke up," Eddie said rubbing sleep from his eye.

"Mama!"

"Oh yeah, you do kind of look like her!" Steve giggled. "He had the decency to leave a picture of her for Rosie."

"Fuck off, Harrington. Look, I'm not your mama, kid," Eddie said.

"Mama?" She looked at him with big, watery eyes and a pouty lip.

"Aww, you hurt her feelings!"

"Ah, hell, come here," Eddie said and took the baby. "I'm sorry, but - "

"Mama!" Rosie exclaimed and started bouncy on his hip. "Mama! Mama! Mama!"

"Okay, question, since she brought it up, where is her mother in all of this?" Eddie asked.

"Abandoned her," Steve replied.

"Damn, kid, doesn't she know how cute you are?" Eddie asked. "Okay, if you're going to call me something, why not Dada? I'm a dude, Rosie."

"Mama!" Rosie said firmly.

"Dada."

"Mama!"

"Dada!"

"Mama!"

"Eddie, you're arguing with a baby," Steve explained.

"Dada!" Rosie said, looking at Steve.

"Oh, well, it looks like you got your wish after all, Eddie," Steve said. "We do have a baby."

"I hate you."

A few days later, the party had been gathered together to meet Rosie. Eddie was bouncing her on his hip, cooing at her.

"Mama!" Rosie grinned happily and grabbed his face.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm your mama!" Eddie said happily.

"Eddie, you're a guy. You can't be her mother," Dustin said.

"Aww, my little Rosie-roo, Uncle Dusty didn't mean that," Eddie scowled at him. "I am your mama."

Eddie blew a raspberry at Dustin, and Rosie followed suite, dimples appearing as she poked her little tongue out. Steve came into the room and Rosie squealed.

"Dada!" Rosie exclaimed.

"Man, I thought for sure that Steve would be the mom in this relationship," Mike said.

"We all did, Mike," Lucas said, slapping him on the back. "We all did."

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #accidental baby acquisition #mama eddie munson

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

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Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

#still no name for her but oh well #she can just stay mama Munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #mama Munson #I’m begging someone to write something with all this #I ain’t got the TIME #or the ENERGY #I have little spurts of thoughts like this and then NOTHING

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munsonfamilyband · 1 year

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I am a HoH Steve truther and I also firmly believe that he had to he dragged to get checked out the first time (Eddie said it was a date and he drove them to the ear doctor where Robin was waiting). He hates that he has to wear a hearing aid, but he’s glad it’s only on the one ear. Still, he hates it, it’s an ugly off white color and it looks terrible with his hair. He hates that people can see that something in him is broken. Logically he knows that he shouldn’t be ashamed of the hearing aid, Robin has told him that enough times, but he still feels awful whenever he sees it in the mirror.

He would regularly “leave it behind” when he went to visit the kids and he would go a couple days without it before the kids found it and gave it back, or Eddie and/or Robin realized he wasn’t wearing it and made him go get it.

That is, until the last time he left it behind at the Hopper-Byers house. He doesn’t see the Wonder Twins for a couple days after that, until they come rolling into the parking lot of Family Video on their bikes. Steve clocks them as weird immediately because it’s just Will and El, no one else. When they come in, Will looks nervous but El walks right up to the counter and grabs one of his hands, dropping something in it. It takes a second for him to recognize it, but he realizes that she’s returning his hearing aid. Only, it isn’t that awful cream color anymore, it’s been covered in colors and little flowers. Turning it over he sees a small crown with a baseball bat filled with nails going through it. Will, avoiding eye contact, tells him that it was El’s idea to paint it and so they came up with what to cover it in - they even called Eddie to get his favorite color (which explains the amount of yellow on the plastic). He also reassures him that they had Joyce help so that they wouldn’t get paint or marker in anything important.

Steve never takes it off after that, and every time he sees it in his reflection it makes him smile. (Years later when he has to replace it, he cries and calls Will to see if he can paint the new one too)

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #no idea if this is something you can do with hearing aids but I needed this to be a thing #mama steve

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navnae · 1 year

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No because let’s figure this out, I just saw a tiktok about how Steve threw his shirt at Eddie when he clearly could’ve thrown it on floor of the boat, or give it to Robin or Nancy but decided to give it to Eddie instead.

This is what makes Steve and Eddie’s relationship so complex because on the outside we’re supposed to get the vibe of them not liking each other but then they turn around and do shit like this.

Steve reaching for the walkie talkie when he hears Eddie’s voice then immediately taking charge to find him, Eddie invading Steve’s personal space whenever he got the chance, genuine happiness and softness around each other, Steve telling Eddie not to be so hard on himself, the stolen glances done when nobody else is looking, both of them having rough experiences with family but making sure that their the best role models for Dustin, when Steve asked about what car Eddie didn’t shut him down with a slick remark when he easily could’ve because that’s what everyone does to Steve but shockingly his “rival” didn’t, the flirty gestures towards each other, then with their final moments Eddie made it his MISSION to call out only to Steve once he realized that they were separating and this was probably going to be the last time he’s ever going to say anything to Steve again.

Lastly Steve being hesitant to look at the board that had Eddie’s photo on it after everything that happened. It was obvious he wanted to look but kept his head at this angle instead of just looking. We never got to see what Steve’s initial reaction was when Eddie died but I like to think that it was a heavy feeling in his chest knowing that he was gone. Part of it was feeling bad for Dustin knowing how important Eddie was to him but he started to realize he developed these feelings for him that Steve thought were for Nancy because that’s what felt right at the time. Steve got it wrong and he hates that he didn’t get to tell Eddie how he really felt about him when he had the chance.

Their story could’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened in season for if it was written better and more risks were taken. Steve deserved his self discovery storyline when he started having trouble with women and later on he could’ve realized maybe it because he’s tire of the same thing, that’s when Eddie comes in. Eddie is different from anything Steve is used to in many different ways which is why they would’ve been perfect (opposites attract). Then Eddie’s story could’ve been taking Steve’s advice and giving himself some slack but still feeling like he didn’t need to run, Steve would be the one to tell him that running away doesn’t define him in the slightest. Eddie never thought he would take anything that Steve Harrington says but here he was listening to him like his life depended on it.

In the end they were perfect for each other, going from “hanging out with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, yeah I’ll pass.” “I wouldn’t save your ass under different circumstances.” (I can’t remember how he said it but you get the point) then going to “Eddie’s a wanted man we can’t just go for a hike in the woods.” “I couldn’t grasp the fact that Steve Harrington, is actually a good dude.”

I don’t understand how people think that they couldn’t work when they were written this way with so many moments between them even small ones that are too quick if you blink you’ll miss it. Steve and Eddie deserved better and they deserved each other.

(Sorry for the rant but I hate wasted potential)

Also Eddie giving Steve his vest??? LIKE COME ON HE WAS INTO THAT MAN!

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goggles-mcgee · 2 years

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Okay the headcanon that Steve can cook is nothing new. Nor is the one that he packs lunches for everyone.

But imagine him packing lunches for Eddie of leftover of dinner or even making him something simple but still great for when he goes to work because idk Eddie, Wayne and Max and living with Steve while the government works on rebuilding the trailer park and they do plan on giving the Munson's a new trailer along with the hush money- I mean compensation.

Anyways, he tends to make lunch for the three of them more than the whole Party obviously. Max always accepts her lunch with an exaggerated eye roll and a, "Thanks Mom." But she always gives Steve a kiss on the cheek before she leaves for school. Wayne always leaves Steve thank you notes since he works night shifts. He also tells Eddie like 5 times a week that Steve, "Is a keeper Eddie. I don't know how, but you gotta marry that boy. I haven't eaten this good in ages." Eddie always accepts his lunches with an over-the-top kiss to Steve's cheek and a, "Thanks Sweetheart!" But Eddie is always dying inside because the guys at the garage think he has a little housewife who makes him these cute little handmade lunches and they tease him but all Eddie can think about is Housewife Steve and those are incredibly distracting thoughts. Thoughts that should not be thought in an auto shop.

Steve and Robin no longer work at Family Video and are currently looking for jobs. In the meantime Steve really is just being the ultimate mom like he knows how. The kids all tell him when they're having bake sales and he always makes them each something different to bring for their clubs. Their club mates and classmates are all obsessed with their treats.

Steve has no clue about this. He's just having a great time going through the box of cookbooks he found in the attic that used to belong to his grandma.

Eventually he and Robin get hired to work in a new bakery that opens up and Steve is over the freaking moon when he gets to bake!

#great cook and baker steve headcanon lives in my heart and my brain #mama steve #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #wayne took a look at all these traumatized kids and was like great I have more kids now #steddie #maxine mayfield #stranger things the party #stranger things hc

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a-strange-inkling · 2 months

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In 1996, Philip decides to sell the family house and start fresh after Laura’s death. During the slow moving process, he begins going through shelves and shelves of old videos he’s compiled over the years. He had a quite the expensive hobby with cameras back in the sixties through the eighties and was often the designated camera man and archivist for birthdays, family gatherings, school plays, and church events. When VCR players came out in the mid seventies he had all of his 8mm film converted to VHS tapes and stored them in his study where they all sit neatly.

As he goes through, his favorites are the home videos of Chrissy and Matt growing up when their family was happier and the world seemed simpler. He comes across one in particular that tugs at his heart strings, it was when he took Chrissy to the park for the first time at about one and half years old. He vaguely remembers Laura was holding a ladies meeting at the house and throwing one of her stress induced temper tantrums about the quality of the catering, so he thought it would be best to take the baby out for a few hours to get away from all the yelling and screaming. He remembers loving spending afternoons with just him and his little girl. It was always quiet and peaceful, she seemed to love listening to what he had to say. She was the sweetest, most well behaved child and she just loved to be outside or go for car rides.

While he wistfully watches long forgotten images of his baby girl toddling and babbling around the park, he remembers the friend she made that day, a little boy with brown curls around three who was there with his mother and it only takes him a moment to realize why the boy looks so familiar.

#he gives the tape to eddie on his thirtieth birthday #i like to think that mama munson and chrissy met in this universe #eddissy #hellcheer #munningham #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts #also we’re going to ignore that home videos wouldn’t have had sound till the mid seventies okay #philip’s got a super super 8 with sound #hellcheer headcanons

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tfyoulookingatgiuxs · 7 months

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Mama's Boy

Depressed!Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: A very normal day at the Munson house. You were happy to visit your sweet boyfriend, too bad for you, he couldn't say the same thing. He wasn't in the mood and wanted to be alone. You had never seen him like this and that's why you had to ask Wayne for help.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Insicure!Eddie, Depressed!Eddie, Patient!Reader, angst, blurb, fluff, hurt/confort, theme about alcohol addiction, theme about sigarettes, theme about drugs, past traumas, mommy issue, suicide, bad language, Eddie act like little child. (Whatever you now read about this one-shot is made up. Nothing I've written is canonical. Everything I have written is nothing that has been seen or confirmed in the Duffer Brothers' Stranger Things series!!!)

𝐀/𝐍: Sorry for my english, this is not my native languages. Please support new writers and reblog!Hope you enjoy! Anyway, if you shake your phone/tablet the daisies move :/ (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

It was a simple fall day in Hawkins. The streets were quiet and the days too, while the citizens were already preparing for the Halloween party that would take place in a few months.

Autumn was perhaps one of your favorite seasons and apparently also that of your metalhead boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

Today as expected, you got ready to go to his trailer. You were supposed to go out together to pick up a movie at Family Video and spend the afternoon like that. You were happy to see Eddie again after a long week due to your studies. You were finally free and no one could take that smile off your face. Or at least that's what you thought...

You knocked cheerfully on the door only to hear an "Coming!" from the other side. His voice was hoarse. It wasn't Eddie. In fact, Uncle Wayne opens the door for you. He gave you a warm smile and invited you in but after you stepped into the trailer his smile disappeared turning his face into a worried look. You wanted to know what was wrong, but you thought maybe it wasn't any of your business. Maybe it was personal stuff and you didn't want to intrude. So you looked around noticing that Eddie wasn't there. "Is Eddie home?" You put your arms behind your back waiting for a response from the adult as he headed towards the kitchen counter.

He nodded "Yes, he's in his room but..." He didn't continue his sentence, in fact he seemed to be looking for the right words. You got worried thinking something bad had happened but then Wayne spoke "If you want I'll call him but I'm warning you kid, he's not well" His tone was low and you could see the concern "What happened?" You asked while hoping that nothing serious had happened. Wayne sighed and then pulled a photo out of his left pocket and placed it on the counter for you as you walked over.

It was old and what's more it was also in black and white. In the photo you could see the panorama of a wonderful beach with two subjects present in the photograph: a woman and a child. Both had their backs turned as they looked at the sea or perhaps the sunset. The woman, even if you couldn't see her face, was definitely beautiful with comfortable clothes. The child's features appeared to be five or six years old. You were confused but let the man in front talk to you.

"Today my nephew and I cleaned out the closet," he began, continuing to talk "In one of the junk we found an old photo album with him and his mother" at that news I felt a great weight on your chest.

You knew that Eddie was without his parents and that he had lived most of his life with his Uncle Wayne, but he had never openly told you what had happened to them.

"After we settled everything, he took the photo album and locked himself in the room. I tried to talk to him, but he said he wanted to be alone" You didn't know exactly how to react. You wanted to know more but at the same time you wanted to go console your boyfriend and find out how he is doing. After a moment of reflection and silence you decided to ask questions.

"If I may ask Wayne...what happened to Eddie's parents?" You were unsure whether to ask since the topic seemed sensitive. The man looked away for a moment and then took a cigarette and put it between his lips and motioned for you to go outside. You followed him, you both exited the trailer and Wayne sat down on the steps in front of the front door while you sat down next to him. He took out his lighter, lighting the cigarette, inhaling the smoke and then releasing it.

"Sorry for taking you out, I'd like to talk to you about it in private" He said. You nodded understanding his reasons.

"My nephew never told you about them, did he?" He asked, surely knowing the answer, but it seemed he wanted to be sure. "No, never. He only told me that they died, he never told me how" You replied as you fixed a lock of your hair feeling the cool air hitting your skin making you shiver. Wayne was silent for a moment, continued to smoke as some ash fell to the ground and he sighed. "My nephew. Before living with me, he lived with his mother" The question arises spontaneously "And his father?"

"That asshole brother of mine? He ran away. When he found out that his wife was pregnant he ran. I never heard from him until I was told that he died in a car accident" you were shocked at the news "His mother was desperate, she hadn't accepted being left like that" her eyes looked at the surrounding landscape of the Trailer Park as more smoke released from her lips "She raised him until he was six and then one day we found her dead on the sofa in her house" you were speechless and every part of Wayne's story made you feel bad, you had become a stone statue no longer knowing how to react and comment on those words of his coming from a difficult past, but the story wasn't finished.

"After my brother left, all she did was drink and take care of Eddie when she could. Most of the time I helped her and tried to keep her away from alcohol, but she never wanted to listen to me." Wayne sighed as if he were throwing himself into memories "She then started using narcotics and smoking more often, it had now become her daily routine..."

You wanted to say something but you was immediately interrupted by him "When she died for my nephew was a hard blow at that age. He loved his mother very much...even if every now and then she forgot that he had a son to raise and spent the hours watching television drunk" This time the man looked at you and noticed your sweet soul worried "I can't imagine what it was like for him, losing a mother at such a young age..." you said it in a whisper and Wayne heard you and nodded "It was very difficult for my nephew. His mother was everything for him, even if it doesn't seem like it now...he may seem scary but in reality he has always been a mama's boy" Wayne smiled and his words had the same effect on you.

You had never thought of Eddie as a mama's boy, and it made you feel tender. "Really?" You asked as if you were in disbelief and he chuckled "Really. At the age of five he was already helping her, asking her for help and taking advice from her for anything. However, he never came to me to ask me for something, for my nephew it was obligatory ask mom" You were touched by this side of Eddie that you didn't know. You were really curious to see how he would act if his mother was still here.

"His mother though? How did she react to it?" You asked and Wayne smirked again "Well, yes, she was happy to have this relationship with Eddie, they spent time together, even if it wasn't much, but for my nephew that time was enough for him to be happy" your smile widened hearing those words "But as I told you before, she forgot about him and spent the rest of the days on the sofa. At times like those I took my nephew home with me so he wouldn't see the horrible state of his mother..." Wayne finished the cigarette and threw it on the ground, stomping on it. "Has he ever thought that his mother didn't love him?" Your lips moved by themselves, you didn't know where this one came from but you tried to identify with that little Eddie who was just trying to stay close to his mother even in the most difficult moment, but she was psychologically destroyed and let her uncle get away with it took care of it for him, you would surely have thought something like "Does mom love me?" or “Why does mommy do this?” something similar.

Wayne nodded "Yes...I remember he told me this on an ordinary day while he was having lunch with me. I didn't know how to answer him, I mean, how can you tell your five year old nephew that his mother takes drugs, drinks and that does he do anything but smoke? And what's more, she only loves it because it reminds her of my brother?" That answer left you stunned and Wayne seemed to understand your reaction "Exactly. His mother, as much as she might love him as a son, loved him even more just because he reminded her of my fucking brother... she always said that Eddie looked a lot like him" The cool air moved your hair slightly "And that's it?" He glanced at you "Do I have to be honest? Not at all, it's all her mother. Especially now" You let out a giggle.

"But now I don't know how he must feel years later. Now he knows things that we hid from him as a child and knowing the truth certainly hurts, but he must learn to face it" You looked at your shoes while thinking about what to say "Do you think he has he gotten over his mother's death?" It took Wayne a while to answer "No. I'm sure of this...As I told you, his mother's death was a hard blow for him and he still suffers from it today" his look was sad, and not do you think you've ever seen this sensitive side of Wayne "I tried to do my best to reassure him and be close to him, but my nephew will never be able to get the image of his mother lying on the sofa lifeless out of his head..." his eyes began to become shiny and you instinctively put a hand on the man's shoulder "Hey, you did a great job with him. You may not have managed to heal that wound of his but you healed many others during his life and I'm sure you never let him lack anything." Wayne smiled big and seemed to feel better "Thanks kid" He stood up and you did the same "Can I talk to him?" You asked as you both walked back into the trailer. He nodded "One moment..." He told you as he headed towards his nephew's room.

After a couple of minutes Wayne came back to you motioning that you could go into the room. Before leaving you took the black and white photograph and headed towards Eddie's room. You found him sitting on the bed looking at the photo album and it made your heart ache. As soon as he saw you he whispered a soft "Hey" while you whispered a soft "Hi" and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, today we were supposed to go to Family Video and catch a movie to watch-"

"Don't worry Eds, it's okay, it'll be for another time" Your tone was sweet, making him understand that you didn't care about seeing a fucking movie now, but rather being close to him.

"Did my uncle tell you everything?" He said as he looked at you. As soon as his eyes met yours you could see his wet cheeks. He had cried, and it broke your heart in two. You hated seeing him like this and just wished you could console him as best you could. You nodded "How are you?" He didn't seem to want to answer you. Your hand began to caress his back as your eye fell on the album. “I miss her..." Was hi answer. You now saw a color photo of a woman, who you understood to be very beautiful, holding little Eddie by the hand. "I can tell,"

"She's very beautiful and looks a lot like you" now you understood Wayne's words. Even if you didn't know what Eddie's father looked like, he sure as hell couldn't have looked like Eddie looked like his mother, they were identical "Uncle Wayne tells me that too, but she always said I looked like my father" you could hear the note of sadness and contempt falling from his lips "And that's why she left..." You saw how he bit his lower lip tightly, surely keeping himself from shedding tears as you moved closer to him "Why do you think that?"

"Why is it like this... I ruined her life. Every day he woke up looking at the spitting image of my father and that's why he despaired on the sofa ruining himself day by day" Damn it hurt to see him like that. You immediately wanted to hug him tightly "But she loved you and you loved her right?" He nodded "Yes, i love her very much but she didn't love me and she had her reasons, I was the cause of her pain and it ended with her death" Eddie hid his face with the palm of his hand. “I ruined his life Y/N… I'm ruining the lives of everyone around me, starting with Uncle Wayne and-”

"Eddie look at me" A note of seriousness came out of your mouth and you didn't let him finish. Not after he started shedding tears. He looked up and looked at you and with your free hand you cupped his cheek, his eyes were bright "You're not ruining anyone's life Eds. Get it through your head-" "How can you say that? I should never have been born in the first place, so she wouldn't have died" He said irritated and immediately more tears hit his cheeks.

"What happened to your mother is not your fault, nor was your birth. Maybe it's true, your mother loved you above all because you reminded her of the man who abandoned her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't has ever truly loved you" You took out the photograph Wayne had shown you. "This photo is of you and her, Eddie. And all these others too" you pointed to the album "You were always her baby, and as hard as life was on you that doesn't mean she stopped loving you as a son"

"I don't know exactly the whole story, but I know that there is no more beautiful bond than that between a son and a mother, and yours was a beautiful bond Eds and it certainly didn't lead her to kill herself" Fuck... he started to sob "You haven't ruined anyone's life honey, not your uncle or even the people around you. If your mother isn't here today it's certainly not because of you, she was suffering too much and wasn't able to move forward" With your thumb you dried the tears Eddie was shedding "But at least she left with the knowledge of having given birth to a wonderful son" you wrapped him in your arms while he let himself go, wetting the cotton of your t-shirt with his his tears. You gave him a light kiss on his scalp as you stroked his hair. "You are the most beautiful thing your uncle could have asked for and the same thing goes for me. You are one of the sweetest and most special people I could have ever asked for. Every day you improve my life so don't even think about something like that" you whispered in his ear as he held you tighter.

Eddie didn't answer but vented his tears some more before trying to compose himself.

You didn't accept that your boyfriend talked about him that way. His horrible past had left him with too many insecurities and doubts after his mother's death that a poor child like him at that age didn't have the strength to face. An image of a little Eddie spending moments with his mother appeared in your mind. The afternoon, the first day of school, the days with his uncle. Your imagination of that sweet, beautiful child was overwhelmed when you then thought about how he and Wayne found his mother dead. Coming home, ready to hug his mother again but she was gone forever. You felt a lump in your throat as you thought about how he must have felt when he tried to wake up his mother. The tears and desperation he felt, something you absolutely couldn't understand but imagining it was definitely heartbreaking. No one would have tolerated it...

Eddie was one of those people who never fully enjoyed his parents. He never knew his father and his mother had passed away dying of an overdose. You begin to think that in all respects you were lucky compared to him. You had a mother and a father, even if they were distant because they no longer felt the love they had before, but they were still your parents. A feeling of guilt invaded your abdomen thinking about how although you had a mother who takes care of you, you didn't have the relationship that Eddie had with his and that perhaps he would like to have again. You were also envious of this, yes. But you felt like somehow it was your fault. You have always had arguments with your parents, especially with your mother and now you realize that not everyone was lucky enough to have a mother who takes care of you.

You really appreciated what your mother did, but you never admitted it and maybe that was the reason why you didn't have a good relationship. You could sense that something in you had changed as you caressed the boy's dark curls, pressing light kisses from his ear to the crook of his neck. His breathing had returned to regularity but he was still sniffling and sobbing slightly. Now you felt somehow good, lighter with less weight on your shoulders. You wanted to be even closer to him than you already were and somehow heal his wound that was still dripping blood if touched with a finger.

"Feeling better big boy?" You used the nickname he loved so much. He just nodded. "If you need anything you know you can tell me right?" He nodded again and gave him another kiss near his ear. It was hot, actually burning hot. You could tell all that heat was from the outburst, the crying and even the embarrassment. He absolutely didn't want you to see him in that state and be able to understand it. Eddie had always been a guy who preferred to do everything alone and without anyone's help, which is reasonable, you had been there too...

But Eddie will also have realized that obstacles are not always faced with one's own strength. Sure, you've always been there for him and definitely Wayne too, but you didn't know how many times Eddie needed his mother. To go to her and ask for help or hug her if he was sick, something Eddie desperately wanted. You felt his grip tighten on you again as he started to sob again "Shh Shh Shh...it's okay Eds" a hiss came out of your sweet lips and after a couple of minutes he broke the hug trying hastily to clean his face “I-I'm really sorry, you shouldn't see me like this.”

"Why do you say this?" He shakes his head "Beacuse...well you don't-" you didn't let him finish "You didn't want me to find out about you and your mother?" He looked at you in surprise as he nodded quickly “Did you by any chance think I would judge you?” He looked at you and was afraid to give you the answer, because even though he loved you to death and had known you for a long time he was afraid that you would actually judge him, he didn't answer "You know I would never judge you, especially on something like that," you placed your hand on his. "Knowing about you and your mother makes me happy, because I know that you loved her very much, and that she loved you despite everything" now your foreheads were touching "I'm sure your mother is very happy to see the mama's boy grow up" you smiled and he did the same and you pressed a kiss to his forehead "Let's do this..." Eddie looked at you with his puppy eyes "How about I'll bring you a glass of water and then, if you want to, can you tell me about your mother?" You asked. You couldn't lie, those photos intrigued you and you wanted to get to know Mrs. Munson a little through those beautiful photographs.

He sniffed and you nodded smiling at you "Now big boy, dry these tears, I'll be right back ok?"

“Okay” He said and you gave him a kiss on the lips which widened his smile.

And so you spent the afternoon with your boyfriend. Sitting leaning against the headboard of the bed while together you browsed through those photos showing off smiles while you were wrapped in each other's arms. Eddie's head rested on your shoulder while yours rested on his head. He looked up when you finally closed the photo album "Thank you sweetheart" He said as you caressed his scalp "Whenever you want big boy, you know that I'm always there for you"

“I wouldn’t know what to do without you” his chocolate brown eyes got lost in yours.

"Well, don't think about it then. Just think that now I'm here with you" He chuckled and you both smiled at each other as your sweet boyfriend fell asleep in your arms.

Even though he was now a grown man, Eddie was still a mama's boy.

#eddie munson fluff #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things #mommy issues #mama's boy #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #Spotify #dominic fike #blurb #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson comfort

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steviewashere · 2 months

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I'm Going to Hold My Breath, Maybe I'll Be Liked Then

Rating: General WC: 10,702 CW: Health Issues in a Newborn (Beginning), Childbirth (Beginning), Panic Attacks Characters: Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington's Mother, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Other Characters Mentioned Relationships: Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Mother, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Tags: Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Robin Buckley is a Little Shit, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Character Study (of sorts), Being Yourself, Happy Ending, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues

Originally Posted on Ao3: Link Here!

This is a long one, buckle up. An oldie, but a goodie.

💕—————💕

Steven Otis Harrington is born on Wednesday, February 22nd, 1967. He's birthed into a family of bulk-handed, cold-gazed, yet warm-blooded, ambitious, headstrong men. His mom though is a gentle human being, or at least however gentle her husband allows her to be. She's taught to coddle Steven until he's eleven years old. She's told to read him bedtime stories, but ones that would enable him to go after manageable dreams, not long-winded ones. She's given the option of harboring a crybaby or a man who will make people cry over the loss of him.

Steven Otis Harrington is born on a hump day. He's born slick and olive toned. He's born with all his fingers and all his toes. He's born with a straight spine, huge beating heart, and bigger soul.

Steven is born not crying.

Steve, as his mom calls him when he is taken from her, is born with fluid in his nose and at the back of his throat. And all his mom can do in that moment, is let men--who she hardly knows and trusts--take her baby, clean his nostrils, and pray to a benevolent God for "this boy to breathe and shiver." She cries so hard she has to puke. She tries to move to sit upright, but is promptly brought back down by the weight of gravity. She is covered in her own amniotic fluid and blood and the sheer force of want, the kind of force that elicits her baby to live.

Because all Mrs. Harrington has wanted since she was a little girl, was a son to dress up in little striped polos, straight leg jeans, and dark green sweatshirts. Who she kisses on the forehead. Who she cuts hair from. She has wanted a son that she can pour glasses of lemonade for, make soup for, and teach to swim. And she will fight God himself for this chance. If, in these terrifying few moments of no baby on her chest, she has to go to God himself and fistfight with the swing of Muhammad Ali, she will. Whatever thing has to be done to be able to go home and lay her baby in the new bassinet her neighbor gifted, she will do it. Trust on her Catholic beliefs and years of reading the Bible, back to front. She will do it all for little Steve to return to her.

Mr. Harrington is frazzled, standing ramrod straight, and twitching his fingers to move and pull at his hair. He's not a comforting person. Won't ever be. But he forces one of his hands to drag across his wife's head. He sucks in his breath via his nostrils and feels guilty on several astronomical levels that he's allowed to do something so mundane in the face of what his son is struggling with. This day, this god awful hump day, this moment, is the last time he will feel guilty over one of his son's failures.

But today, Mr. Harrington pets his wife's hair, prays and curses under his breath, forces his breathing to remain stagnant, and sighs when Steven returns.

Steven Otis Harrington is eight pounds, three ounces. He's got a full head of blonde hair that will surely fade to something darker, like his mother's. Has the eyes of his father and the moles of his grandfather. But mostly, he is kind in the way he cuddles close to his mother's chest, puffing air onto her neck, and letting both his parents know: I'm okay. I'll always be okay.

———— It's February 21st, 1987. Nearly one year since Vecna was slaughtered by the hands of a fourteen year old girl, two pining fourteen year old boys, a brother and his ex-girlfriend and his best friend, a group of oddball nerds with the help of an ex-jock and a fiery horror enthusiast, two breakout Russian prisoners, hysterical mother and lover, and a man who's romantic love is placed on a bottle of christened vodka when he goes back home.

Steve Harrington, now edging on twenty with hair just past his collarbone and enough green and indigo and blue sweatshirts to clothe the military, is working what seems like an endless shift at Family Video. Did it seriously survive the damage done by Vecna? Yeah. And that's probably the worst part of the recovery battle. The idea that he now has to go back to work with scars littered over his torso and a pension for swallowing down his panic; until he's safely nestled in the break room with his head hanging between his knees. No more is Steve Harrington who flirts with the ladies.

Robin is stacking VHS tapes to pass the time. It would be better if she'd put those away, Steve thinks. He thinks best when it comes to work. Runs the store like his own army, maybe the amount of sweatshirts is kept for a reason. He's scanning tapes that were overdue and making sure they get back on inventory before heading off to the shelves.

The store is quiet. Other than the stack of tapes. Seriously Robin, quit it, Steve wants to snap. But, he doesn't want to cause an issue. He wants to keep his cool. Wants to be able to apologize rather than be petty. Because tomorrow is his birthday. And he's got plans. Which really just involve him and Robin, a couple of tapes, and some cheap enough Chinese takeout.

The store is quiet until a tape falls and Robin seems to have enough. She's never one for silence.

"I'm bored," she whines. Her body flops back onto the glass case at the counter. Shoes scrape against the carpet as her legs stretch to their full length.

In another life, Robin is taller than Steve and he's jealous of her long legs.

Her shoes are covered in homoerotic doodles and little sayings of she'll go down not only on people's sisters, but also their moms. The other day she whispered, "careful, I have a thing for moms. I'll fuck her," to a young man who had a large enough anger problem over the pricing of renting a tape, nearly enough to snap one in half. Nobody heard her. Except for Steve. And the insult was weird enough that he only raised an eyebrow, froze his hands in place where they were reshelving tapes, then just shrugged and went back to work.

"That sucks," he huffs back.

Her body suddenly flings upright. She tips slightly forward with wild eyes and a crinkle to her nose. "We should play a game!" She shrieks into the comfortable, customer free air.

"No. And besides, haven't you been doing that?" He throws a glance out of the corner of his eye. She deflates over his left shoulder.

"No," she tries to protest. Her body continues to wither until she's leaned over the glass counter, chin in left palm, positioned to continue any argument with Steve, and hair floating into her eyes. Steve only turns around, crosses his arms over his chest, and sends a pointed look her way. "Whatever," she grumbles.

They go back to their respective tasks. Well, Steve does. Robin pulls out a magazine and looks at all the pictures where she's perched behind the counter.

Two more hours go by where Robin goofs off, does the occasional task, and then goes back to whining to Steve about any and every problem she can think of. It starts with being bored. Then, that the candy bar she stole from the rack and didn't pay for is too sweet. She garbles out a strew of, "the movie you picked is boring," and "this actress is so hot Steve. So hot." But, it all comes to a head when she talks about Nancy.

Steve's known about her crush on his ex-girlfriend. He's promised that he isn't mad. Just curious. Has heard all about Nancy's soft hands and pretty blue eyes and "the way she held that shotgun...I was ready to fucking beg to be a bullet or something." To which he responded, "Robin. Please, kindly, shut the fuck up."

But today? It's less about how pretty Nancy is and more about, "she wants to hang out with me tomorrow."

"Oh?" Steve questions. Though, some part of his heart is crumbling. Because he was really looking forward to his birthday tomorrow. And Robin hung out with him last year. He wants to do the same.

"Yeah, oh," she sucks in a large enough breath to puff her chest and then her hands start to gesticulate. "Like, THE Nancy Wheeler wants to hang out with me. Me, this band nerd who used to hate her guts and now I'm worried that I'll spill my guts and then she'll know how I feel about her. And oh my god Steve, what if she already knows? What if she's asking me to come over to like eviscerate me or something? Oh, but what if she knows and wants to kiss me?! I've never kissed anybody before, she'll basically be kissing a wall. And I don't want to embarrass myself, especially not in front of badass Wheeler. And also, what if she wants to kiss me but also feels like it's too soon because her and Jonathan just broke things off? What if she admits to wanting to kiss me and then I let things wait for a bit, but then she finds somebody else?! I'll be heartbroken, Steve. Absolutely heartbroken. Oh this is so bad, so, so, so, so, s--"

"Robin, oh my god. If you say 'so' one more time, I'm going to duct tape your mouth shut," he lightly snaps. She stops talking and looks down at the carpet from where she's standing. Her toe scrapes the floor. "Just. Go over there. Hang out with her. She knows what she wants. And I know for a fact that you know what you want. Let things play out, man. Can't rush everything."

And for the first time in probably fifteen minutes, Robin's rambles have silenced. Completely. She doesn't move, doesn't go back to the magazine or stack of tapes, or the shitty movie Steve has picked out. Doesn't do anything.

Steve's worried for a couple minutes. Should I signal that Vecna is back? He thinks hysterically. I know her favorite song, but what if I sound like a Muppet trying to get her out? Oh god, Tammy Thompson is totally going to get her stuck with Vecna, shit! He panics.

"I just don't want her to hate me," she chokes out. Her voice is thick with emotion; clogging up her throat, clinging to her eyes, bubbling in her nose.

Immediately, Steve's shoulders slump from where they've risen to his ears. He breathes a sigh of relief and fills his lungs with an air of sadness that he's now privy to. This feeling that Robin is portraying, this fear, this worry--it's one Steve has been feeling since Eddie got out of the hospital in May of 1986. Pining, hesitation, self-consciousness; they're killers.

"Robs, she won't hate you. No matter what happens, alright? She wants you in her home. She wants to hang out with you. Whatever she decides to do, whatever she doesn't do, it's not because of you. I'm sure," he strides over to her side and forces her head to rest on his shoulder. "You'll be okay. She'll be okay too. You just won't know until you go over there, right?"

Robin nods. And that's the end of that conversation.

Steve almost thinks it's the end of all conversations for the day. It's twenty minutes away from closing time. No customers have wandered or called in in the last three hours. That is, until Family Video's phone starts to ring.

He sighs, something weary and drawn out. Definitely overdramatic. He picks up.

"Thank you for calling Family Video where we can fulfill all of your movie needs. This is Steve speaking, how may I help you?" He drones in the phone.

"Oh don't sound too excited to speak with me, Stevie," a familiar voice drawls over the phone.

Like the sun peeking through the rainclouds, Steve perks up. "Eddie! Hey man, what's up?" He asks with almost too much energy. He tries to slump back down to his bored position, but he's already too riled at just the mere prospect that Eddie is calling him at work. Robin hears him from where she's melted into the counter and is over at his side in an instant. She smirks when he looks over at her, so he tries to swat her away. To no avail.

"Just calling to see if you had a couple movies in. But, I wanted to get your input on them. Figure out which one I should watch," Eddie states.

"Sure, uh, are you sure you want my input? Kinda shitty at recommending movies, man," Steve stutters down the line.

"Yeah of course I want your opinion. The movies I'm deciding between are Back to the Future and Animal House. Now, I know that y'all may have Back to the Future, but I have Animal House taped here at home."

Steve goes silent for a few seconds. What a fucking toss-up, he muses. "Uh, those are some good picks. How can I decide? Which one do you want to watch?"

"Either," Eddie answers. "But...I could watch both. Awful lot of time spent watching movies though, I'd get bored," he mutters. "How about I propose something?"

Though Eddie isn't at the store, Steve nods. Then he remembers Eddie can't see him and sighs down the line, "yeah, go for it." Robin covers her mouth and starts to snicker. Steve swats at her arms again.

"What if, you come out to the Hideout tomorrow to watch Corroded Coffin perform? Not usually your scene, I get it, but you could show up, get a Coke and some chips. Watch me perform, then I'll follow you back to your house and we watch these movies and I bring some beer. Of course, since I can't get that legally, it's sort of a gift from Wayne. That sound cool to you?"

He can't contain his excitement when he squeaks down the line, "yeah! That sounds awesome!" He wants to retreat for the way he shouted down the line, but why should he? Robin has plans with Nancy tomorrow, so otherwise, Steve would've been left alone in his big house. He would've opened his mailbox to a card with loopy, cursive handwriting from his mom and then slid it in the back of a dresser drawer, never again seeing the light of day.

"Cool. Great. You pick up Back to the Future and I'll see you tomorrow at 6:30?" Eddie questions.

"Yup," Steve replies. They say their goodbyes and then the phone is being placed in its cradle. He wants to run up and down the aisles, jump on the balls of his feet, kick the air, and scream at the top of his lungs. "I get to hangout with Eddie tomorrow!" He shares with Robin.

She cackles at his excitement and they discuss Steve's birthday plans.

Maybe his twentieth won't suck after all...

———— That statement quickly gets doused the moment the 22nd arrives.

So, it's February 22nd, 1987. Steve, not Steven, is awoken very rudely at seven thirty in the morning. His doorbell is rung five times in quick succession, enough for him to worry about it being broken if the ringing goes on any longer.

He pulls on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt and stomps down the stairs. The left part of the front door swings wide open when he rips it from the jamb.

There, on his front porch, is Robin. She's dressed in cuffed suit pants, her super homosexual Converse, a nice plaid button-up tucked into the pants, and enough jewelry to open her own store. There's also an ominous, large duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

"Oh my god! Robin, how many times do I have to tell you that you can't ring the doorbell that many times?!" He scolds.

She at least looks a bit sheepish before schooling her expression. "Oh whatever. I'm here because we need you looking nice for Eddie's concert!" Her hands wave as she talks, Steve's fond of that.

Steve's expression falters from one of irritation to apprehension to dimmed sadness. "Why do I need to change the way I look? Aren't my clothes just fine?"

Robin sighs over exasperated, "Because your clothes are going to make you one, stand out and two, look like a major douchebag. Plus, don't you want to look nice for Eddie?"

He nods, but his expression gets gloomier. "I mean, yeah...but I thought that I looked nice anyway? Shouldn't I just be myself?" He asks quietly. He's starting to curl a bit in on himself, letting his shoulders guard his ears, and his head bow closer to his collarbone. His hair brushes gently between his shoulders.

"You can be yourself, you just can't look the usual. Gotta spruce it up, look nice for the fellas?" She teases.

That's how he finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed, watching Robin root through his closet. She makes a pile of shirts that are "too preppy, Steve!" It's all the polos his mom bought him. All of the sweaters he likes to layer over t-shirts. All of the henleys that his mom said made him look like, "such a wonderful young man, my precious boy."

Though his parents are consistently absent, he still adores his mother. She showed her affection in the food she used to make and the gifts she would bestow and her chaste, wet forehead kisses.

When they'd come home from the department store with several new polos and two different colors of denim jeans, she'd declare that Steve put on a fashion show for her. He'd go into his ensuite bathroom and change into all his new clothes, reentering his bedroom in a fashionable outfit. She'd say, "pose for me Stevie, Mommy wants to see how good you look!" And he would do it every single time. They'd laugh and laugh. Then, when his dad would be home later in the day, they'd show him too. He wouldn't pose for him, but his dad would think that he looked very dapper and put together.

For those little moments in time, the Harrington family would be a family. Afterwards, his mom would serve up a new casserole with green beans and mashed potatoes. Mr. Harrington would talk about business and gloat about his new clients. He'd tell Steve that he was smart and that, "one day, you'll take over the company. And I think you'll do just fine. You'll be greater than okay." Even though Steve eventually grew to hate that idea, he'd soak in the praise he would be drenched in, he would glow with pride that his dad thinks so highly of him, he'd feel a little older and a lot bigger and more ambitious.

Now that his parents are gone though? He doesn't chase the dreams his dad had laid out for him. He sits in the silence of his home, lingering in the doorways of what-ifs and could've-beens. While eating TV dinners or a bowl of macaroni and cheese, he reminisces on the meatloaf his mom made some ten years ago. The empty rooms now gathering dust tend to haunt him at night. Every card sent in the mail is shoved in crevices he'll never clean. His Beemer sits as lonely as he is. Though, he finds comfort in his clothes. In his hair. Things that his mom would participate with him in. Those things that tell him, I'll be okay as long as I know how to do this.

And he does. That's why he hates the idea of having to change how he looks just to go out with Eddie. The thought trickles down his spine and makes him twist with nausea. It doesn't help that a good majority of his clothes are deemed too-highly for someone like Eddie. He likes to think that Eddie doesn't mind; he's never commented on Steve's clothes. Maybe he doesn't like when people point out his clothes, he wonders.

Steve loses himself in the thoughts of his mother. That is, until Robin chucks a pair of acid wash jeans--they have a few rips and holes--at his face and he blinks back to existence.

"You're gonna put those on! And..." she wrestles with the various items that clink in her duffle bag. "This!" She exclaims, throwing a t-shirt at Steve's face.

He unravels it. On the front is the album cover of Metallica's Ride the Lightning. It's a plain black with the album design. He crinkles his nose.

"Where'd you get this? This wasn't in my closet," he points out.

"Oh, just Eddie," she smirks. "Told him that I wanted a metal shirt so that I could maybe sneak into his show. He threw this one at me and told me to get out. Guess I woke him up too early. I don't think six is that early," she claims.

"It's pretty early," Steve states bluntly.

"Whatever. Just put the stupid clothes on. Then..." she hoists the bag up onto Steve's bed. "I can decorate you!" The bag's contents spill over his mattress. There's a variety of chains and studded bracelets, eyeliner colors and eyeshadow palettes, and a pair of large, chunky, black combat boots.

Steve rolls his eyes, but goes to the ensuite to change anyway.

To say he likes the look would be a false statement. He hates it. So much so, he considers banning Robin from his house for the next week and banishing the clothes to the back of his closet. The jeans are tight in too many places, his skin is exposed to the cool air of the Harrington home. His arms with drag scars are on full display. Steve wants to climb into his bathtub and hide in the dark. Wants to wrap a towel over his body. This doesn't feel like me at all. Why can't I just wear my clothes? Steve questions.

He leaves the bathroom with the confidence of a timid deer in headlights. He tugs at the sleeves of his shirt, attempting to hide his scarring. Pats at the open areas on his jeans, thinking that his hands could magically sew the denim back together. In some odd, possibly because he's so exposed way, Steve finds that he just wants to cry.

"I don't like this outfit Robs," he admits quietly.

"It doesn't look that bad, Steve. Just get over here so I can make you look good!" she says louder than needed.

Make me look good? Steve wonders.

Now he feels like the eleven year old boy his parents left behind. Like he's standing in the foyer, listening to his father demand that he sharpen up. His dad looms over him, standing at an intimidating 6'4". He pushes the words from his mouth so hard that spit sprays into Steve's little hazel eyes. In his dad's hand is his report card. It features all the Cs and Ds that burn into his soul like a brand. His dad reams that "you'll never be smart. Never. Such a disappointment." Steve's mom stands behind his dad with tears clogging her eyelashes, but she pushes at the corners to keep her makeup pristine. She doesn't go to Steve and tell him to stay himself, doesn't offer to go get him a new outfit to have a fashion show. She mutters something about learning a lesson and having to make his food and keeping himself in line, unlike his father. She tuts and worries, but not enough to comfort Steve. This was all so much worse when they came home to learn he didn't get into college. His dad had said, "you have never been good enough for me. Your mom and I only wanted the best for you and you betrayed us. You're going to get a job and learn your lesson."

They don't speak anymore. Steven Otis Harrington is left home alone at age eighteen with the inability to breathe on his own. With demons that his blood family can't know about. He wishes he could explain that he's good enough or at least okay.

Steve wonders if he'll ever be good enough for anybody. He wonders if just his clothes are good enough for the people he loves, adores, would die for. But do they like the way Steve expresses himself? Make me look good? I think I usually look okay, Steve holds onto.

He sits on his bed anyway. For several hours. Lets Robin hold his jaw to apply eyeliner, hook several chains into his belt loops, rip bigger holes in his jeans, wrap bracelets about three inches up his wrist, gel back his hair, and spray him with a musky cologne.

Robin chirps out, "looking so good! This may be your best look yet!" Before leaving though his front door and setting his mail on the kitchen counter. It's only three in the afternoon.

Steve is freshly twenty years old, sitting in a bedroom that his mom decorated so many years ago with plush toys and soft wall art of Winnie the Pooh. He is exiting his teenage years a more broken man than his father ever was at this age. He's standing in the kitchen, flitting through mail, and shifting from foot to foot because his shoes hurt his heels. Steven Otis Harrington gets one letter and a Pooh colored package from his mom.

In the reflection of the kitchen window, he sees himself clutching his mother's mail to his chest. Standing at 5'11", much shorter than his dad, but with his eyes. They're rounded out by black, smudged eyeliner. They'll never see eye-to-eye. Steve contemplates scrubbing it off with a harsh tea towel. In the window he also doesn't see himself. He looks down at his clothes. They fit tight and too loose, clink if he moves a leg, threads pressing into the soft open areas of skin. His arms are itchy from being exposed to oxygen. The hair that his mom taught to always maintain volume, is slicked down hard enough that he can squint and see the shape of a shaved head.

He hates it all. But it's to impress Eddie, right? All Steve wants is to be loved, so he'll do what he can. If he has to fight with God, throw his arm like Muhammad Ali, he will.

———— It's now 6:00. Steve's driving over to the Hideout in hopes that he can get a soda and a booth before it gets too packed. He's going at this alone. Alone and in an outfit that doesn't define him in any sort of way. Makes him feel more like a sore thumb and he prays to God that nobody asks about the album on the front of his shirt. He'd only be able to say, "Master of Puppets," and then crumple in despair as he gets laughed at.

Metal music. Overcrowded bars. Loud concerts. Black clothes and chains and all the other miscellaneous things thrown on his body.

None of this is Steve Harrington or even Steven Otis Harrington.

He wants to go home and eat a sad microwave meal while dressed in clothes his mom would approve of. Ones that he approves of. Clothes that feel like comfort that's been absent since he was eleven years old.

But he has to support Eddie. That's his duty, he decides. Because no matter what people think about him, he'll support all of the things people that he loves likes. But does anybody like anything that Steve Harrington likes? Or do they just like what he can do for them? Y'know, the car and arcade trips, concerts and loud music, rambles and advice.

Does anybody like Steve Harrington? His parents don't even approach the word.

Steve files into the bar as fast as humanly possible. He pays for a Coke with too much ice and a bowl of half stale chips. Eats them anyway, doesn't want to cause a scene because he already feels so out of place. The booth he chooses to sit at is sticky and musky with sweat and cigarette smoke. One of the Corroded Coffin boys is up on stage, plugging in various instruments, tapping on different mics, and scanning over the setlist. Do they play originals, do they play just metal music, do they know that I'm here? Steve wants to ask.

He prays to that same God. Asks that nobody, but Eddie, knows him. Begs for mercy while he's trapped in the booth.

His arms stick to the seat's vinyl. It rips at his scars and makes tears bead in the corners of his eyes. He keeps his line of sight downwards so he can carefully dab at them with a rough napkin. Like his mom taught him when he learned about manners. There's eyeliner on the corner of the paper, it'll probably steak over his cheeks if he cries anymore. So he steels his expression, sucks in a hefty breath, and faces the stage once more in hopes that his facade won't crumble.

The sleeves of the Metallica t-shirt are tugged at once more. His fingers play with the threads on his pants. He hates this, but he loves Eddie.

In a short few minutes, Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin enters the stage light. He slings his guitar over his torso and plays a few starting chords. Jeff, the boy with short sheared hair, he announces the first song of the night. Then, the concert starts.

Steve doesn't enjoy the music. It's loud at every single second and makes his ears ring like the after effects of a concussion. Everybody in the room is pressed too close in and sweating against each other's backs and torsos. He's lucky he chose to sit down. After so long of conforming to social standards and throwing parties and being absolutely nasty, Steve's almost content with being a wallflower. Content with the idea that probably nobody recognizes him. And he hopes it stays that way.

That is, until a patron walks by and sneers at him, "you don't belong here, meathead!" They cackle to themself, reach over for the cold cup of Coke water, and pour it over Steve's lap. Is this what it was like when I did this shit? Steve ponders with tears once again building in his eyes.

His resolve is crumbling and he can't stand the smell and heat and crowd of the bar. He flees out of a side exit door and practically sprints over to his car.

And there he sits. Contemplating. Should I go home? Should I wait until Eddie is done?

He chooses to go crawling back to his vacant house and hopes that Eddie understands tomorrow morning. He hopes that Eddie doesn't see him this way, that he forgot that he invited Steve in the first place, hopes that maybe Steve just got caught too busy at work to even slip out for a night of "fun."

At twenty years old, Steve hides in the sanctuary of his bedroom. It's only seven in the evening. He doesn't take the uncomfortable clothes off though. Lays on his duvet with his hands tangled over his belly. His hair is starting to crisp and knot and crunch. There are blisters the size of quarters on the backs of his heels. Eyeliner smudged everywhere around his eyes and eyebrows and bridge of his nose.

He rolls over with tears in his eyes.

At eleven, Steve was scolded for crying at every last little thing. His mom was also chewed out for raising such a sensitive boy.

He doesn't cry as much in hopes his mom will learn to forgive him. In hopes that maybe, his mom will still like him. Or maybe, his mom will demand a fashion show and hold him gently against her chest, and allow him to breathe. He isn't sure how to breathe on his own without the help of other people, but he thinks that there's a possibility that breathing is overrated. That there's a way for him to just wither to dust if he doesn't inhale. If he exhales, he's sure he'll cry.

So he doesn't. He holds his breath and promptly falls asleep in the tightest curl. He imagines that the empty space beside him is where his mom lays. That she's tapping on his spine and cooing softly into his hair. That she made soup and it's waiting for him downstairs. That all she's waiting for is her little Stevie boy, her precious baby, to roll over and puff breaths into her neck.

———— Only two hours later, at nine, Steve startles awake. There are sounds coming from downstairs. He doesn't move to check it out. It could be a demogorgan, his brain mutters. He ignores it.

He ignores the ball of light crackling in his chest at the sheer though that his parents came home. For the first time since June of 1985. They call, always, to say they're on their way back. But something is always delayed. Or his dad is always cheating. Or his mom is always throwing a fit.

He ignores the idea that they came home just for him, to wish him a happy birthday, to welcome him into pure manhood, to watch him open the parcel he received earlier in the morning.

A voice rings out, "Steve?"

The pure streak of excitement coating Steve's soul in neon green dies out like a candle flame. A candle he hasn't blown out since he was ten years old.

Steve curls tighter, if possible. His door remains shut. The bed is still empty behind him. His clothes are digging into the meat of his thighs and slight chub to his stomach. A chain rattles, but he doesn't reach out to silence it.

"Steve? Dude, are you home? It's Eddie. You left the door unlocked," the voice rings louder. He sounds raspy and exhausted. Steve really wishes he hadn't agreed to hang out or that he just called Eddie to say he didn't feel good. He wishes that Eddie didn't come all this way to see his buddy in such a melancholy state.

Footsteps trample up the stairs and to the wood outside of Steve's bedroom door. There's a set of three knocks. They're quiet, but firm.

"Sorry if I'm waking you up. I brought the movie and some beer and some pizza. Another thing too, but it's a surprise. Do you still want to hang out for a bit?" Eddie's voice comes soft through the door. It envelops Steve in a way no voice has in a long while. "We don't even need to watch anything, we could just talk in your room. If you want," he offers.

Steve uncurls slightly, enough to bring his head up and speak. "You can come in," he croaks.

The door creaks open. Several things are placed on Steve's desk. Then, Eddie is sitting on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees, face turned to not look at Steve.

"Missed you at the show," Eddie admits.

Steve doesn't respond. Just breathes shakily and brings his head back down. His body curls again.

"It was cool. We played a Queen song. I weaseled it onto the setlist; wanted to play it just for you," his voice whispers.

The room is silent again. There's rain drizzling down outside and Steve continues to attempt to hold his breath. He really doesn't want to cry. Especially because Eddie is in his room right now.

Eddie scoots closer so that his hip is touching the bottom of Steve's socked feet. He tentatively brings a hand to wrap at his ankle, thumb rubbing at exposed skin.

"You're dressed up in some gnarly clothes," he points out. Steve stifles a whine. Don't cry, idiot, he chastises. "Were you planning on checking out the show?" Eddie asks kindly.

Steve nods. He whispers, "I was there for a little bit."

"Oh," Eddie breathes. He sounds somewhat disappointed.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to stay and watch, but I couldn't. I'm sorry I didn't do what you wanted. I'm sorry if I made you mad, I didn't mean to," Steve rushes out, breaths growing wild, dazed, ragged. Eddie stops rubbing at his skin; he pulls his hand away entirely. "I just. I wanted. I didn't..." he stammers. His lungs hurt, his nose burns, there are tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Steven Otis Harrington has been taught to not cry in every circumstance. He had been told at a young age that he was born without a single scream, not even a sigh. His dad admitted that it scared him. But he was quick to tell Steve that now it was a good thing if he kept quiet, if he didn't cry. Especially if he was yelled at. Especially if he was overwhelmed. Especially if he was talked to unkindly or hit or humiliated. "Don't be sensitive," Steve's dad had warned.

There are tears streaming down his face even though he continues to hold his breath. His body doesn't budge. Won't even shiver.

"Stevie?" Eddie's concerned voice washes through. "Shit," he mutters. His hands make their way to Steve's torso, trying to shove his arms to the side, turn him onto his back, whittle him into an upright position. To no avail. "Steve, sweetheart, I need you to breathe with me," he urges.

Steven Otis Harrington was born not breathing.

There's panic laced in Eddie's words, in his tone, in his movements. But, Steve shakes his head vehemently. I can't, he thinks. I don't know how, he wants to admit. Did you know that I didn't cry when I was born? He wants to ask. Is this it, am I doing it right? Am I good enough? Am I disappointing you, more than I already have? He can't question.

All at once, the world is shifted. Steve is against his bed's headboard with his legs bracketing Eddie's crossed ones. There are hands on his exposed knees, but he doesn't have the words to tell Eddie to stop touching him. So he shifts as much as he can away.

"Steve," Eddie's voice surges. "You can do this, I know you can," his hand brings Steve's to his chest. Though there's panic in his heart--Steve can feel it through the soft shirt--his breath is slow. "Just match what I'm doing, okay?"

He counts. He inhales and fills up any empty space in his chest. He exhales hot over Steve's arm. He does it again and again and again, not once does he give up. But, it's not enough.

"You're doing really well Stevie, so good," he praises. His voice is feather light, still raspy, but calm. "Not gonna stop, keep breathing with me."

Steve thinks Eddie makes it sound easy. Even though he knows it isn't. Knows that at one point he scared his parents by the lack of air traveling through his body. Scared Robin the same way too, when he was passed out on the floor of that cold Russian bunker. He makes people feel panicked, pained, exasperated. Rarely do people care about him so fervently outside of situations like this. His parents made that known. His own body does that to him.

Eventually, though it takes nearly fifteen minutes, Steve's breathing is set. Shaky and hiccuped, but rushing into the room easily enough.

"Scared me," Eddie mutters. And he sounds so exhausted. Steve just knows it's because of him.

"I'm sorry," he timidly states. There's an ache in his chest, his fingers, behind his eyes. He's still crying. And he wonders, is this it? Have I been born again?

There's a brief pause after the apology is said. Eddie gazes at him, eyes wide and hurt. He doesn't move away, but he doesn't let himself linger either. Steve thinks he did something wrong, if a pimple has made itself known on his face, or even worse, an Upside Down creature lingers behind him. He begins to panic again.

"Hey, no, no," Eddie reassures. "You're alright. You're okay," he sighs. "Was just lost on the fact that you're apologizing to me."

"Well, yeah," Steve says. Like a solution, like a fact. The sky is blue, asphalt becomes hot under the sun, and Steve apologizes for scaring Eddie. "I scared you. I didn't see your whole show. I disappointed you. Made you mad," he lists.

There's that face of shock and hurt washing over Eddie. He's so outwardly expressive, it terrifies Steve.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish. He grunts before trying again. This time he's firm when saying, "you don't need to apologize to me. Not for something you can't control. For something you need other people to help you with.

"You don't need to apologize for scaring me. I just panicked, I didn't know what was happening, but I got my bearings. All I wanted was for you to be okay.

"And you didn't disappoint me by not watching the rest of the show. And you didn't make me mad either. I'm just tired, but I'm always tired after I perform. I'll get over it," he assures. "It's your birthday, the big twenty, I wanted to do something nice for you. But I couldn't cancel or move my show. Had to compromise," he smiles.

"Oh," Steve exhales. He doesn't know what to do with that much information. He's been taught for years to not cry so hard or openly. He's been the main source of so much disappointment and anger in his life, he wonders how he's survived this long. He doesn't know how to comprehend someone being nice to him after something as explosive as what's happened. "Oh," he states again.

Eddie watches him with curious eyes. His thumbs twitch where they rest over his own knees. After another second of lost thought, he asks, "why didyou leave so early?"

Steve doesn't want to tell the truth. Wants to hide behind the chains still shifting over his jeans, place his hands in the holes on his knees, tug at the sleeves of the t-shirt again. "I got heckled, I guess. This dude told me I was a meathead, that I didn't belong at the show. He poured my drink over my crotch. I was already so uncomfortable," he admits with his head tucked into his chest.

"That fucking dickwad," Eddie seethes. He drags a hand down his face and tucks hair behind his ears. "Why were you so uncomfortable? I mean, you don't have to answer that. I already knew it wasn't your scene, but maybe it'll help if you talk about it? You seem...extremely distraught."

"I guess it was everything," Steve whispers. "The music was loud and made my ears ring, like when I get a concussion? And there were too many people and it was so hot. The booth I sat at was really sticky and kept pulling at the scars on my arms. And," he stops to breathe. "And the clothes," he finishes quietly.

"Who's clothes? Your clothes?" Steve nods. "I have to admit, they're not really your style. What's the matter with 'em?"

Steve huffs and throws his hands up to gesture at the entirety of his outfit. "All of it!" he exclaims. "I hate everything about this outfit. And no offense about the shirt," he glances towards Eddie.

"None taken. Was wondering where you got that. Robin, that liar."

"Well, the shirt doesn't cover the scars on my arms, so I feel them stick to everything in my vicinity. And the pants are too tight and too much skin is exposed. The makeup makes my eyes look wrong. I like my eyes. I don't like my hair slicked back. My heels have blisters on them now from the combat boots that Robin forced me to wear," he's cut off.

"Forced you to wear? If you didn't want to wear any of this stuff, why'd you stay in it?" Eddie ribs.

"Because I wanted to impress you!" Steve exclaims, nearly shouts. His face turns beet red with shame and he covers his mouth. He glances away.

Eddie seems taken aback by the small outburst. Be he doesn't linger on it for too long. "Impress me? Steve, you don't need to change your look to impress me."

"Then how are you supposed to like me? Nobody seems to like the stuff that I'm into. People think I'm a douchebag based off of the normal clothes I wear. I like my clothes! My mom used to pick them out for me, and I know that sounds lame, but I liked it when she made me try them on. I liked the way she used to compliment me and dote over me. I miss it," Steve points out, quietly. "I miss my mom all the time. My clothes. My hair. They're the last things connecting me to her. Except for the birthday cards and I guess the one package she sent today."

Steve tries to hide in on himself. Why did I say that? He wonders. He plays with the hem of the t-shirt. It should be comforting, considering it's Eddie's. But all he wants is to rip it off of his chest and throw it across the room.

"Stevie, I already like you," Eddie sadly whispers. "I like how confident your regular clothes make you feel. I don't like the way these current clothes seem to make you shrink. I think it's bogus and frankly crazy to ask you to conform to my aesthetics. They're not for you. And I don't mean that in like a weird, you can't enjoy what I like way, but rather, this isn't you." He reaches out to hold Steve's hands, rubbing circles into his knuckles, and massaging his veins.

"You like me?" he asks.

"Of course," Eddie concedes. "I love you," he states. Like a fact. The sky is blue, asphalt becomes hot under the sun, and Eddie Munson likes, loves Steve Harrington. Steve smiles.

They sit for several minutes, Eddie gazing at Steve's form. And Steve basking in the attention he's being given.

"Y'know...I saw the package over there on your desk," Eddie starts. "Why don't you shower to get the gel and eyeliner off? And then you can come out here in your comfortable clothes and you can open up some gifts?"

———— That's exactly what Steve Harrington does at 9:45 on his twentieth birthday. Then, he reenters his room in his own sweatpants and sweatshirt. The bottoms are a light grey. His shirt, a saturated indigo. Eddie sits patiently on his bed with two packages laid out in front of him. The Pooh gift from his mom and one wrapped in bright blue paper with the words "Happy Birthday" thrown about; the paper is wrinkled in some places like Eddie had a hard time smoothing it across the corners and edges. The birthday card from his mom is there too.

"Come on birthday boy! You've got gifts to tear into!" Eddie exclaims, patting at the empty spot across from him on the bed. His hand hits the mattress hard enough to jostle the packages, which he quickly resituates. "You should open mine first," he sings.

Steve sits down on his bed, legs crossed in front of him. He reaches out for the blue package and gives it a shake.

"Don't shake it, you cheater," Eddie says. Steve chuckles.

He's careful with the wrapping. Always is. His mom taught him to tear the paper in one clean sheet so that later, he can cut a square and keep it before the rest has to go out to the recycling. Though he can see Eddie jittering out of the corner of his eye, possibly with anticipation to just lean forward and rip it up into shreds, he takes his time.

Inside is a plain white box with lid. It's cardboard. Like the kind you get from a department store when purchasing a nice blouse or button-up for a kid's Christmas gift. Steve removes the tape from the edges and pries the lid off. Under a layer of wrapping tissue is a dark green, like the forest of trees behind his house, sweatshirt. His eyes widen, the lid held close to his right shoulder, and he doesn't speak.

"I, uh, I figured this would be something you'd like," Eddie quietly states. "Wayne took me to Macy's out in Indianapolis? I had to get a button-up for a cousin's wedding. Passed by this and knew that Robin mentioned something about your birthday coming up...I have the receipt if you need to exchange it. If you want to exchange it," he pulls the receipt from his wallet, slides it across the mattress, and pats the crinkled paper.

"I love it," Steve responds just as quietly. He looks down at the receipt very briefly, seeing $29.99 stare at him in bold black lettering. He glances back at the sweater and unfolds it. It's soft in his grasp, almost like it's been worn, but the tags are still attached to the collar. "I love this a lot."

"Good, I'm glad," Eddie says. "Now open the card and gift from your mom. Then, you can put on a little show for me!" He shoves the yellow package closer with the card set on top.

Steve rips the envelope open. He's always been less gentle with letters. Years of yearning for parents who have only grown absent and regretful through words on paper, that will do it. He looks at the front of the card. A snapshot of a lake, rippling under a sunset, shadowed by the graceful presence of hundreds of trees. And just like he guessed, inside is her loopy handwriting. Though, in previous years it's only said "happy birthday Steve," with a wad of cash.

This time she writes:

Dear Steve, How are you darling boy? Mommy hopes that you're doing great, better than okay. You've always been just okay. I want better than that.

There's a lot to say and not much room to write, may have to write on the back of this card. Hope you don't mind.

First, I'm sorry.

Steve stops reading in favor of breathing. He didn't realize he had begun to hold it once again. Never in a million years did he think he'd see the words I'm sorry written just for him. Written just for him from his own mother. He continues.

First, I'm sorry. For how long I've been away from you. It's not because of who you are, what has happened. I don't think saying I'm sorry will ever be enough.

And it better not be, you deserve better. You deserve kindness and presence and care. And I wish I didn't stop giving any of that to you.

Your dad...he's the same as he's always been. Cold, angry, bitter. He told me not too long ago that he doesn't love me. And now I think I better understand how you've been feeling for the last ten years.

I'm sorry he doesn't say that he loves you. I'm sorry that I can't reassure you that he does. But I know one thing.

I love you. I've always been proud of you, I was just so scared to say anything against your father. I like everything about you. How kind you've always been, the way you continue to dress up and style your hair, how much better you are than anybody else in the Harrington family. You're my light, my star, my sunshine. I prayed for you fervently as a kid, I prayed for you when you weren't breathing, I pray for you every night before I go to sleep. And that's true. And you may not believe me, the same way you don't believe in God. But even if your faith in religion is nonexistent, one day I hope you'll be able to, over the phone or through writing or just looking me in the eyes, say "I believe you."

Because I believe you. I believe in you. Wherever life takes you.

Now, Mommy got you something. I picked out the packaging because it reminded me of your nursery. Makes me weep thinking my baby boy is a grown adult now. And I know. I missed so much of who you are; I feel like we're strangers and that's not your fault. But I hope this can be the start of some sort of rebuilding.

Go ahead and open your gift, then continue the rest of this card.

Steve puts the card down and wipes his eyes. He doesn't want to cry again, but his mom had always been one to encourage him to be emotional. the release feels right for something as big as his mom apologizing to him. Even if the apologies don't soothe every wound on his torso.

"You alright Stevie? We don't have to continue if it's that bad," Eddie softly states. He gently touches the back of Steve's hand with his fingertips, pressing ever so slightly into his warm skin.

"No, no I'm good. It's alright," Steve waves off his concerns. "She got me something, she's saying stuff I thought I'd never see."

He grasps the package and stares at the box in wonder. His mom has to constantly be thinking about him in order to pick something out like this. To see a box like this and be reminded that she has a son back home. How often? Steve wonders. Every night she said, his brain supplies.

The box is pried open by the flaps. Inside are several layers of thin, light red, almost pink wrapping tissue. after throughly trashing his bed, Steve unveils a pair of dark-wash Levi jeans. Not blue enough to be considered nearly black, but blue enough that they're almost purple.

Eddie audibly goes awww, when Steve unfolds them to their full length.

"What?" he says. Is he making fun of me now? Steve ponders.

"Turn them around, there's something on the pocket," Eddie states, smile heard in his voice. He's giddy, warm in the way he speaks.

So, Steve turns the jeans around to look at the back-pockets.

There, in light yellow and red embroidery floss, is little Winnie the Pooh holding a balloon. These definitely didn't come with that on the butt, Steve notes. He hastily picks the card back up from his mom. He scans through the first part of the writing and continues to read on.

Ta-da! New jeans!

Steve can hear her butter soft voice ring out in his bedroom. Can hear the wave of her hands, the curl to her nude-pink painted lips.

Now, I'm not sure of your current size. I had to sneak a look at a pair the last time I was home; which, that was too long ago. And once again, I'm sorry. However, I've left the address for a nice little lady and her tailor shop on the back of this card. Just tell her that your mom sent you over and she'll do any alternations necessary. She'll bill directly to me, so you don't need to worry about paying her or your father getting upset.

But, I did the embroidery myself. Mommy used to do this all the time when you were just a tiny thing. I had to put your name in everything you wore or took to school, it was easier for me this way. Though, I thought I'd do something different to mark that these jeans are yours and only yours.

I hope you like them. Maybe you can snap a photo and send it to the address on this card? Or, better yet, I'll be on my way home mid-March. You could do a little fashion show for me, right baby? Your father won't be with me, so we can do whatever your heart desires. You could scream at me if you want, I wouldn't mind.

Oh, on another note, I saw something about the Munson boy? I'm so ashamed that the town thinks so poorly of him, even though he's been found not guilty. They always think so terribly about people different than them, they used to think of me differently. You know, before I married your father? I hope you don't treat that boy terribly; I know you won't. You're too kind for that. The Munsons have always been nice, I used to know Wayne in high school. If you run into either of them, show them hospitality. Be kind, my little star.

Anyway, it's late where I am and your father is getting irritated that I'm keeping the light on.

Write to me. Let me know about every great thing in your life. Hopefully, one day, I'll bear witness to them.

Love, Mommy (drawing of a heart)

Steve once again sets the card down with tears in his eyes. He chuckles, "she wrote about you."

"Oh?" Eddie breathes. He picks up the card. "Can I read what she said?" He implores.

"Yeah, just read under the sentence, 'you could scream at me if you want, I wouldn't mind.'" He watches Eddie flit back and forth between the words and then read it over two more times. He breathes out a hefty sigh.

"She doesn't even know me," he states quietly.

"She doesn't know me either," Steve whispers. "But I like to believe she's always had good judgement of character."

The room is once again silent. Steve sniffs every once in a while. He think over every single word his mother wrote. Every sentence punctuated. The thoughtfulness she still carries, even if it doesn't take her home as often as she wants, as much as Steve needs.

For the first time in several years, he feels like he can breathe. Like he can start to do it on his own. That he can hear her walk through the front door, take her shoes off, tiptoe up the stairs, barge into Steve's room, and wrestle him to tears with tickle attacks. He can feel her fingers through his hair, hear the small snips of styling scissors, the pats on his chest as she laid the collars of his polos flat.

He doesn't admit anything to Eddie about being born again. About his lack of breathing that's been haunting him since the moment he was ripped from the womb. He basks in every moment that's lost to time, where his mom existed and could've survived had she held hope against her chest the way Steve had been held. He rubs his fingers over the embroidery. He smooths his hands down the front of the sweater and denim legs, over and over and over.

Eddie suggests, "try the clothes on. I want to see you in all your glory."

———— At ten, Steve Harrington saunters out of his ensuite bathroom in the forest green sweater and Winnie the Pooh jeans. He slips on his white and red Nike Bruins to complete the outfit.

Eddie whoops and claps his hands loudly as he cheers, "there he is! That's Steve Harrington!" He gestures towards Steve's clothes. "Pose for me man!"

"Alright, alright," Steve giggles out. He puts his hands on his hips, pops his legs, puts one foot in front of the other, makes goofy faces. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Yeah," Eddie nods. "It's better than good enough," he gets off of the bed and makes his way over to Steve. "How do you feel right now?"

Steve looks down at his outfit. He stretches his arms out, brings his legs up, and places them back down. He nods, "I feel amazing." He twirls and twists, giggles slightly delirious at himself, and sighs in relief.

Eddie smiles, all teeth and gums, dimples, and eye crinkles. "You look amazing."

"Yeah?" Steve breathes.

"Mhm," Eddie hums. "You look amazing. You look comfortable. You look happy."

"Does that mean I impressed you?" Steve asks. He means it to be somewhat flirtatious, but there's an undertone of rippling anxiety. The worry of not being enough for somebody as eccentric as Eddie.

"Impressed? You knocked me flat on my ass is what you did!" He exclaims. "I like this on you Steve. I love this Steve."

"Like, you love the outfit? Because I think I've already picked up on that," Steve says.

"No, silly. I love you. I love quite literally everything about you," Eddie assures. "Which, I believe, includes your clothes."

Steve giggles. He thinks about his clothes and his choice in movies and the tapes in his car. He ponders on the cookies he bakes for Christmas and the costumes he wears at Halloween. Thinks back to sports in high school and the way all his training has applied to the Upside Down. The love he has for the Party and Robin and Joyce and Hopper. The love he has for Eddie.

"Even the sports?" Steve teases.

"Hey I may not understand the whole ball in laundry basket thing, but come on. Guys in shorts that are practically underwear? Stevie, I think if you spared a glance at me the one year we had gym class together, I would've came in my pants," Eddie passionately admits.

Steve crinkles his nose. "Gross," he bluntly states. But he holds the biggest smile this world has ever seen. "You really love me, huh?"

"Yeah Stevie, I love you," Eddie breathes.

"Good," Steve whispers. "Because I love you too," he puffs onto Eddie's lips.

But because Eddie can't be serious for a single moment in his life, he swats Steve's ass and exclaims, "alright hot stuff! Let's go heat up some pizza and party."

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Way to cockblock your own cock of interest."

"Oh, whatever. The quicker we eat, the faster you can have some dessert," Eddie says while wiggling his eyebrows.

"I hate you," Steve states.

"No you don't, you loooove me."

"Yeah Eds, I do."

———— Steve Harrington is born again on February 22nd, 1987. He's birthed into a family of people who treat him with constant, consistent kindness and adoration. His mom is still gentle, still lovable, still ready to fight God if necessary.

Steve is reborn with a new outlook on breathing and living. He conforms the way he knows how and doesn't let other people direct how he shouldlook.

Though his father never praises or loves him like he did when Steve was little, Mrs. Harrington is there despite it. She rushes back in like a tornado in late March, a brand new Winnie the Pooh stuffy under her arm with a whisper of, "you're never too old or sensitive for a soft bear."

She learns about Robin Buckley, the ramble-on, quick-witted, two left feet character that is Steve's platonic soulmate. She reintroduces herself to Nancy Wheeler, who she believes will be an excellent news journalist one day. She rekindles her high school friendship with one Wayne Munson and tuts over Eddie Munson the way she did to Steve. Though, considering the time period, it takes a while for her to fully understand Steve's relationship with Eddie, she doesn't ignore it. In fact, she embraces that part of her son. She's happy that despite how lonely his growing up had been, how empty all the rooms had seemed, how miserable dinners were; Steve Harrington was consistently loved, doted over, and cared about.

Steve Harrington has his father's eyes, mother's hair, and grandfather's moles. But he isn't cruel, not anymore. He isn't anything other than Steve Harrington with his polos and sweaters and Levi jeans. He's who he needs to be; and that impresses everybody.

"I'm proud of you star shine," Mrs. Harrington whispers into his hair one night after a brutal nightmare. He hadn't been breathing until she calmed him down. "I love you."

"I love you too Mom," he puffs into her neck.

Yeah, Steve Harrington will always be more than okay.

💕—————💕 Already posted my steddielovemonth fic, but I thought y'all deserved an extra treat in the form of one of my favorite fanfics I've ever written. Posted last year!

#stranger things #steve harrington #Steve Harrington's mother #steddie #platonic stobin #eddie munson #robin buckley #angst and hurt/comfort #Steve Harrington is a Mama's Boy

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

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At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #wayne munson #mama Munson #headcanon #stranger things

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derangedhermit · 10 months

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Per the most popular fanfiction, we agree as a fan base that Steve’s parents suck. What if they didn’t though? Specifically Steve’s mom. He uses her as a reference for his job at Family Video. That’s canon.

What if they’re kind of close. Talk on the phone every night close. Nervously tell her about his crush on Eddie close.

What if Steve’s mom is the first person he comes out as bisexual to? What if Mrs. Harrington is the one who gives him the confidence to be unapologetically Steve because when he shyly tells her about his budding feelings for Eddie she reacts in the way a mom who loves her son unconditionally would?

Mama Harrington helps Steve get the boy.

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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It was supposed to be a one time thing.

Steve had always been in charge of feeding the kids, a self appointed position that didn't do anything to stop the mom jokes but Steve liked making sure his kids were happy and fed. He knew what it was like to come home from school and have to fend for yourself in terms of food, he didn't want that for the kids.

He had taught himself to cook and bake as he grew up, quickly getting tired of heating up spaghetti-os or TV dinners. His parents always left the house well stocked with ingredients even though they weren't there so he had to make do.

Steve liked baking things for the kids, he knew everyone's favourite cookie and cupcake flavour and made sure he made them if he heard one of them had had a bad day.

Max had been the one to ask him originally. The high school was having a bake sale and Max's mum wasn't around enough to give her the flyer and Max had asked him if he'd make those caramel brownies that she loves. He agrees as long as she learns to make them with him which she had happily agreed to.

To Steve's suprise his brownies had been a hit at the bake sale. There were a few stink eyes from some of the moms there but mostly there were big smiles and punched cheeks and "aren't you just the sweetest boy" from everyone there. The kids had nagged him for cash for the sale which they mainly used to get his brownies even though he'd told them he made extra at home.

After that, it just became a thing. Whenever there was a bake sale one or more of the kids came to ask him to make something for them, some half baked (excuse the pun) excuse as to why their own parents couldn't do it.

"Mum always burns her cupcakes."

"Dad says he only knows how to grill."

"I swear she put salt in them last time."

"Do you want to give the school food poisoning?"

"Yours are just better." Steve liked that one.

Soon the kids didn't even have to ask him, he had moms putting the flyer in his mailbox. Once he opened it to ten of the bright pink papers shoved in there. It wasn't even just bake sales. The PTA moms had practically adopted him and wanted him at all the school events, sports carnivals, school musicals, pep rallies. Everyone wanted Steve's baked goods.

"I swear you're at the school more than I was in all my senior years, Stevie."

"You're just jealous that the moms love me."

"I've always thought you're sweet, sweetheart."

Steve had even started experiment with his recipes. Robin and Eddie were more than happy to be his guinea pigs.

"Steve if I liked dudes I would marry you to eat this cupcake everyday."

"Fuck you Buckley I'M marrying him AND I'm getting to eat this brownie til I die!"

"You don't need to marry me for me to bake for you two."

"Yeah but then I'd get to brag to all the PTA moms that I have Stevie Harrington's sweet goods and sweet cheeks."

"EDDIE!"

Steve had been struggling with what he wanted to do with his life, he didn't go to college, he worked minimum wage and his parents had practically cut him off. It was at the last bake sale before spring break that one of the moms Steve had gotten close to approached him.

"Steve, honey?"

"Hey Mary, what can I do for ya?"

"Well, you know I'm in real estate and there's this sweet lil storefront down on Maple that recently flooded but it's got good bones just needs a lil love and I'm rambling but I saw it and I knew it would be perfect for you."

"Perfect for what ma'am?"

"For your bakery, hun!"

"Oh ma'am I'm not opening a bakery."

"Why not honey? Everyone loves your sweet treats and with the flooding the place is basically being given away, I didn't wanna sell it til I talked to you first, so what do you say?"

"Can I give you an answer first thing tomorrow."

"Sure hun, but don't wait too long, things like this don't come around often."

Steve had been pacing the apartment by the time Eddie got home from the shop.

"Stevie, baby what's wrong?"

Steve stopped pacing and turned towards his boyfriend.

"If you were really good at something and every said you were really good at something and someone gave you the opportunity to do that thing every day would you do it?"

"Um probably, do what you love and everything right?"

"Mary stopped me today and says there's this store that needs work but could be worth it and I could open my own bakery there Eds, mine, all me doing something for me, but money would be tight for a little while and I don't want to do anything rash and if you think it's not a good id—"

"STEVIE! Sweetheart breathe. Does baking make you happy?" Eddie had put his hands on Steve's shoulders trying to calm him.

Steve nods.

"Then do it baby. Sure money might be tight for a bit, but we have some savings, and I've got my job pretty stable now, so fuck it if it makes you happy of course I want you to do it."

Steve pulled Eddie into a hug whispering a soft thank you.

The following day Steve signed the deed for the shop on Maple St and Eddie and the party and Hopper and Wayne and the girls and everyone helped him him clean out the debris and put up new walls and paint until two weeks later it was finished.

Steve's Sweets was finally open. Robin had been hired to work the coffee to go with Steve's treats and the kids got part time jobs after school and on weekends working the register. Robin and Eddie still helped try out new recipes and soon the whole town knew about Steve's new store.

Steve still baked things for the school's bake sale but now he got to feed his friends and family and the whole town everyday and he was never happier.

#fluff #stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things season 4 #pta mum steve #mama steve #the party #baker steve #ficlet #steddie ficlet

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