#eddiemonth

[yournowheregirl]

@eddiemonth day 4: rejection

rating: T | wc: 913 | cw: hurt/comfort, general & UD related anxiety, hoh!Steve, pre-Steddie

Eddie flops down on his bed with a load groan.

He blindly reaches for a pillow and once he’s found one, he uses it to muffle his screams. It barely dampens the sound, but he's home alone anyway. He screams and screams until his throat starts to hurt and the tears he tried so hard to ignore, finally well up in his eyes.

Another rejection.

Another place that didn't want to hire him.

Even with all the strings Hopper and those government guys had pulled to clear his name, Eddie can't escape his brand-new reputation of local satanist and serial killer. There was a press conference and everything, and a personal apology from the police department, but it still wasn't enough to sway the public's opinion of him.

But he has to get a job, like yesterday. They'll run out of that government money sooner or later and he can't expect Wayne to continue cleaning up his mess. Wayne's done enough of that already.

Eddie's tried almost every place in town. His first instinct was the record store and the garage, because that's what where his interests and experience lie. They turned him away as soon as he came in to drop off his resume.

When he told his friends about his job search, Steve immediately offered to put a good word in for him at Family Video. Robin would ask their parents if they knew about any job openings and Nancy would do the same, though she'd avoid Eddie's name while talking to her father. Gareth, Jeff and Frank suggested he'd ask for a job at The Hideout, while Jonathan and Argyle suggested the local pizza place, because of course they would.

None of those jobs ever got back to him.

Today was one of his last resorts. The diner on the other side of town had an opening for a dishwasher. Not exactly the kind of job Eddie wanted, but it meant keeping a low profile and it would pay the bills. He'd take the job in a heartbeat, but the restaurant manager took one good look at him and sent him away before she even took one good look at his resume.

"We don't hire murderers." She'd sneered.

Any other day, Eddie would've maybe stand up for himself, made a whole scene, maybe even called the cops to prove his innocence yet again. But he was so burnt out from rejection after rejection, that he just shrugged, got into his van and drove all the way back home.

Even though the screaming helped a little, Eddie can still feel his mind buzzing, thoughts of anxiety swirling around and threatening to swallow him whole if he doesn't do something quick. He rolls off the bed, put whatever tape he can get his hands on into his boombox and turns up the volume to the loudest setting.

Other people might listen to soothing music to calm down, but Eddie needs the loudest, most aggressive music to drown out the thoughts in his head. The thoughts of never getting a job and leaving it up to Wayne to pick up the pieces, driving him to work harder and longer, until his brittle body can't take it anymore. Thoughts of losing their home again, being forced to call Rick again

It's all his fault. Everything is his fault.

Tears slowly roll down his cheeks as the music continues playing, so loud that he doesn't hear Wayne coming home. So loud that he doesn't hear Wayne picking up the phone to call someone. So loud that he doesn't hear the knock on his bedroom door twenty minutes later.

It's not until his bedroom goes completely quiet that Eddie finally notices he's not alone. For a second he thinks it's Wayne, but when he hears a muffled "oh thank God" from the other side of the trailer, he realizes that it must be someone else.

"Y'know, if you were so jealous of my new accessories, you could've just said so. No reason to shatter your eardrums like this." Steve says with a teasing grin. The sunlight reflects on the hearing aids he'd gotten a few months ago and of course, he pulls it off like he's a goddamn Calvin Klein model.

"Sorry."

Eddie's voice is small, barely recognizable to his own ears and Steve immediately picks up on it. His teasing smile fades away as he walks over to the bed and sit down next to Eddie. He shuffles around a bit to find a comfortable seat against the headboard and pats his lap.

Completely drained from his terrible day, Eddie doesn't even try to fight it and cuddles up next to Steve. He rests his head in Steve's lap and lets out a sigh of relief when Steve's hands find their way to his scalp.

"What's going on?" Steve asks softly.

"Another fucking job didn't want me." Eddie mutters against the fabric of his polo.

Steve hums in acknowledgement. "I'm sorry. You wanna talk about it or do you want some quiet time?"

"Quiet, please."

"Alright."

See, with Steve around, Eddie doesn't need the music to drown out his bad thoughts. They float away on their own as soon as Steve cuddles with him and starts massaging his scalp. Or, on other occasions, they float away when Steve distracts him by talking about Robin's hopeless love life.

Steve being there for him just helps, in general.

Eddie doesn't wanna look into that realization too much.

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #alice's writing adventures #give this boy a hug pls!!! #also not beta'd i just word vomited this so pls excuse any mistakes

[starryeyedjanai]

@eddiemonth prompt: first concert | read on ao3

The first concert of Corroded Coffin's that Steve goes to, Eddie's a nervous wreck beforehand.

His hands are sweaty and he's wringing them as he paces outside after they get their equipment inside.

Jeff takes one look at him and sighs.

He knows how Eddie feels about Steve and he knows how important it is that they make a good impression on him. He might not understand the whole Steve thing, but he gets having a crush on someone unattainable.

Well-

When Eddie first told him about it, he thought it was just an unattainable little crush. Just something that happened because they got close after the earthquake. Steve was a new friend, someone Eddie hadn't known long enough to get used to, and he's - Jeff's not going to pretend he isn't attractive.

So he understood it, kind of. And the thought that the crush would fade once Eddie knew him for longer.

But Steve hanging around them, making an effort to get to know Jeff and Grant and Gareth, being nice to Jeff's mom- that had Jeff pausing and taking another look at the situation.

Because Steve didn't have to do any of that. He could hang out with Eddie, maybe the one freak he could tolerate, and call it a day.

But he was trying, and he was being better than he was in high school. Which, if anyone asks, Jeff would say he actually wasn't all that bad in high school compared to the others.

So Jeff looked a little more closely.

And saw the way Steve looks at Eddie, his eyes tracking him as he crosses the room. He saw the way Steve laughed at all of Eddie's jokes, even the ones he didn't understand. He saw the way Steve was always looking for an excuse to touch Eddie, putting a hand on his arm, putting a hand on his back, his arm around him, hugging him at the end of the night and the hugs lasting longer than any hug Jeff's ever had with a buddy.

He saw that and saw that this isn't a passing fancy for Eddie. He saw the way Eddie leaned into Steve unconsciously, the way he always looks for him first when entering a room, the way he lights up when he sees him. He saw the way Eddie seemed to like him more and more, and subsequently talk about him more and more, the more he got to know him.

So it wasn't just a crush.

And it wasn't unrequited like Eddie thought.

But now Jeff is watching him pace a hole in the ground and he can't exactly tell Eddie that he's 99% sure that Steve feels the same because 1. he wouldn't believe him and 2. that 1% of doubt is enough to deter him. This isn't something he can be wrong about. Even if feels mostly sure, he wouldn't ever say that he should go for it when it could turn ugly for him. This isn't a crush on some girl where the worst that could happen is that she says no.

So, for now, Jeff watches.

And Jeff hopes.

He hopes that they'll be able to see it for themselves. That Eddie will catch the way Steve looks at him and realize that it's the same way he looks at Steve.

He hopes that Steve will make a move, put those rumors of his suaveness to good use and woo Eddie.

He heads inside when he sees Gareth talking to Eddie, trying to calm him down.

He sees Steve and Robin, talking at a table near the front of the venue, and he makes a beeline for them.

"Jeff!" Steve says, smiling at him when he sees him coming over. He waves at both of them.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?" he asks and when Steve furrows his brow and nods, he leads him away from Robin.

"What's going on?" Steve asks, looking worried.

He says, "Just, Eddie's really nervous about performing in front of you tonight. So, like, even if we suck or you don't like this kind of music, can you not say you didn't like it? Not that I think you'd be mean about it, but like-"

Steve looks at him confused. "I've listened to your tapes before. I like your music. I wouldn't- okay, I mean I'd still be here even if I didn't like it, but I do like it. Wait- why's Eddie nervous?" he asks. And Jeff hadn't planned on Steve asking that. Shit.

He says, "Because you're his coolest friend and he doesn't want to screw up in front of you."

Steve's expression softens. "I'm not- you know what? Okay. If it makes you feel better, I won't say I didn't like it."

"Okay," Jeff says, nodding, relieved. "And don't, like, mention I said anything."

"'Course," Steve says with a smile. "You're a good friend, Jeff."

Jeff grins at him and walks him back to his table. That 1% is looking awfully less and less with every conversation Jeff has with Steve.

The manager waves him over and tells them they can start setting up on stage, so he goes to get the others.

-

The show is good, once Eddie snaps out of his nerves.

It's actually impressive, seeing him with shaky hands as they get ready to start and then seeing him turn it on seamlessly like he was never nervous in the first place.

They play and Jeff watches the way Eddie keeps looking at Steve, keeps looking to make sure he looks like he's enjoying himself.

And Jeff sees Steve smiling the entire time, singing along to the cover songs they do and also to one of their original songs.

At the end of the night, after they get their stuff back in their van, he sees Eddie and Steve talking, standing close, one of Steve's hands playing with the hem of Eddie's shirt.

And he knows they'll get there eventually, even without his help.

They'll find their way to each other and see what Jeff sees.

He's sure of it.

As he gets in the driver's seat and looks over at Grant, he can only hope he'll get that too one day.

#eddiemonth #steddie #outsider pov #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #st fic #st ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie & jeff #janai.doc

[artbean]

@eddiemonth day 26: corroded coffin

i wanna be somebody, be somebody soon, or: corroded coffin crashing on their first tour

#eddie munson #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #corroded coffin #eddie munson fanart #stranger things fanart #st4 #stranger things 4 #cceu #they are so special to me #eddiemonth

[vecnuthy]

snoozy

@eddiemonth day 7: warm | wc: 548 | G | cw: sleepy fluff

Eddie Munson was an absolute riot of kinetic energy most of the time. He got antsy easily, his mind rarely quiet unless made quiet by the lull of a late night toke, but any other time, he had to be doing something. Sitting was only tolerable if his hands were moving or his knee jumping.

Currently, though, he was perfectly still, somehow stretched out and curled up at the same time under his and Steve's sheets - a Sunday morning still made lazy in the mid-early hours because he was passed out. Steve knew company would be over that afternoon to continue their campaign under Eddie's guidance, but for now, Steve soaked up the stillness and basked in the sights and sounds of a sleeping Eddie Munson, konked out to this world but probably exploring some other in his dreams. He always said he had vivid dreams in which he drew inspiration for the campaigns he crafted. It had taken several years for the Upside Down to loosen its iron grip on Eddie's unconscious mind, but the dreams came less frequently these days. He looked unsullied by its influence this morning, thankfully.

But Eddie Munson was still a riot in his sleep. Steve had called him a rotisserie chicken because of how much he moved. The only cure was being tangled together or being in a deep sleep. Eddie had been too tired last night to braid his wet curls, so they now lay bushed around him, scattered in a thicket across his and Steve's respective pillows, covering the half of his face not smooshed into a pillow and no doubt wrapped around his neck. Steve could only see his nose peaking out and a bit of his forehead as he watched with such soul-wrenching fondness the strands fluttered to and fro with each breath Eddie took.

He looked so ridiculous, so peaceful and squeezable and gorgeous with the comforter hiked up to his ears and tucked in like a curly-headed sleep taquito.

And he was so warm. A toasty little sleep taquito. The guy ran cold most of the time, but put Eddie in some blankets, and he became a burning coal in no time, especially with Steve's body heat included in the mix.

Steve's hand rested at home on Eddie's bare waist under the covers, and when Eddie started to stir, he squeezed lightly, coaxing a sleep-thickened sound from Eddie.

"Mornin'."

All Steve got in response was a choppy groan that would've sounded like "mornin'" as well, had Eddie moved his mouth. Steve chuckled, and Eddie's fingers appeared from the bunched-up covers and pushed his curls from his face.

He was so beautiful, it made Steve's chest hurt. Skin and lips full, a sleep crease across his cheek, eyes squinty until they fully fell on Steve, making butterflies erupt in his stomach. He couldn't stand it.

Eddie yelped when Steve pulled the covers from Eddie's grasp and dove in, burying his face in Eddie's neck.

"God, you're so warm," he groaned out, completely engulfing Eddie's body with his own. "And you smell so good."

"It's just body wash," he grinned sleepily, carding his fingers through Steve's own bed head.

"It's just you," he kissed into his skin. Eddie melted into the sheets and his hold. "S'just you."

#have something fluffy since i brought the angst the other day #they probably hump about it #steddie #steddie fic #eddiemonth #steddie fluff

[flowercrowngods]

a tiny thing for @eddiemonth day 06: crush & sincere

“I will crush you beneath my heel like vermin.”

Like thunder, the evil wizard’s voice rolls over the battlefield, leaving fear in the heart of everyone who’s alive enough to hear it and rattling the bones of those who aren’t.

Men and women alike, soldiers and knights and able bodied young men, watch with bated breath as Sir Steven, the bravest of them all, rises to his feet again beside the black-clad wizard, his grip on his trusty sword never wavering as he wipes blood and sweat from his face.

There he stands, heroic as ever, meeting the evil wizard’s eyes with a heated glare of his own.

“Try,” he says, standing his ground as his voice, too, is carried over the battlefield. Carried, indeed, for the wind blows in his favour, the sun shines only for him, and the ground beneath his feet holds him up like a trusted friend, a most beloved brother.

Sir Steven reaches towards his neck, feeling the band of leather against overheated skin, a charm resting just above his heart — right where it belongs.

The wizard doesn’t have what he has.

***

A soft chuckle abruptly changes the scenery and rips Eddie into a different world once more; sun glazed battlefields replaced with the darkness of his room, hard soil replaced with the softness of his bed, and a knight turns into a beautiful boy wearing his favourite shirt.

“A magic used guitar pick necklace? Is that what the evil wizard king doesn’t have?”

Steve’s eyes are closed but the smile on his lips shines bright, and Eddie can’t even be mad about the interruption. He reaches out a hand and trails his fingers through Steve’s hair, gently combing back the locks sticking to his sweaty forehead. The smile dims a little, turning into something more genuine.

“I can’t believe you interrupted me at the best part there, Stevie. I was going to make a heroic entrance as a dragon shifter, called to the knight simply by touching the charm.” He keeps up his slow and gentle caresses, his hands trialing down to Steve’s cheeks and neck, where Eddie’s necklace clings to overheated skin indeed. “It means a lot, you know, a charm like that.”

Steve hums, moving closer to Eddie, seeking his warmth and his touch alike, and Eddie can’t possibly refuse him.

“It could save the world, you mean?”

“Hmm. The world. A young boy’s heart. And everything in between.”

Steve blindly reaches for Eddie’s hand and brushes a kiss to his knuckles, and another for good measure.

There’s a weight to their words that’s not meant for moments like this, but it hangs in the air nonetheless, and Eddie breathes it in. The weight of a past survived and a future acknowledging that. Both of them shared like this moment. A promise.

“So what happens next? With Sir Steven and the evil wizard, and with Eddie the dragon shifter. That’s very fitting, by the way, you little hoarder,” Steve laughs, still keeping his eyes closed, and Eddie can’t help but join in, overwhelmed with affection for this boy.

This sunshine boy who’s having a bad day and a fever but still manages to be the most radiant thing in the world. This wonderful boy who asked Eddie to stay and tell him a story until he falls asleep.

“Don’t feel good? Do you wanna stay in bed, baby?”

“Yeah. Can you stay?”

“Of course. Cuddles?”

“Could you maybe… Could you tell me a story?

“I’ll tell you any story you want, sunshine.”

This incredible, insufferable boy who’s too nosy and too sassy for his own good, interrupting Eddie here and there to ask questions or give a snarky little comment that’s dripping with fondness whether he’ll admit it or not.

This boy. His boy. With the smile and the wild bed head and the insistent tug on Eddie’s hand to tell him what happens next.

And so Eddie continues his story about the evil wizard being defeated and the world celebrating the heroics of the knight and his dragon and their unlikely band of friends. If he adds a little Lord of the Rings imagery here and there, Steve won’t know about it anyway.

Before he reaches the end, Steve’s hand goes slack where it’s tangled with Eddie’s, and his breath evens out, the smile never quite fading from his lips. Eddie keeps talking, though his voice is hushed now and thick with a smile of his own now.

He loves him. God, he loves him so, so much, he can barely stand it.

“Good night, Stevie,” he whispers even though it’s barely three in the afternoon. He gets up and out of bed, tucking the blanket around Steve’s sleeping form and brushing one more kiss to his hair before sneaking out of the room on slow, quiet steps.

Outside, Wayne is reading a book on the porch, a cigarette in his hand. Eddie snatches one from the pack and leans over his old man to brush a kiss to his hair, too, feeling far too full of affection right now and needing to let it out. There is a sincerity inside him that needs to be shared.

Wayne lets out a gruff kind of hum, but Eddie isn’t so easily fooled, smiling as he lights his cig.

“How’s your boy?” Wayne asks.

“Asleep for now.”

“Good.” There’s a moment of silence between them and Eddie closes his eyes against the afternoon sun for a moment, drawn back to his story. “You let me know if he needs anything.”

“Of course. Thanks, Wayne.”

“Sure. Just wouldn’t wanna be crushed like vermin, is all.”

The laugh bubbles out of Eddie before he can help it, sincerity replaced by something lighter, something manageable for now as he lets his uncle bully him for telling ridiculous stories to the boy he loves so endlessly.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddiemonth #let them be soft your honour #dio words #a ridiculous little thing for my soft boys #eddie’s necklace saved the world bc he gave it to steve before the final battle telling him ‘i’m gonna need that back when it’s all over’ #and steve replied with ‘it’s a date munson.’ #dio’s steddie ramblings

[nostalgicbones]

@eddiemonth day 23: mixtape

take my uquiz to get a mixtape from eddie!

there’s 10 different playlists with 100 unique artists spanning multiple decades and genres, all songs i think eddie would enjoy or appreciate—let me know your results in the tags!!

#stranger things #st4 #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #uquiz #playlist uquiz #eddiemonth #stranger things playlist #stranger things uquiz #eddie munson playlist #uquizzes #quiz #lexposts #this was an insane undertaking pls give it a shot!! 🥺 #lexquiz

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 7 Prompt: Wayne

note: this one is in Wayne's POV and it's a little different than how I usually write, but it means the absolute world to me, so I hope you all enjoy it!

read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

Wayne Munson remembers the exact moment he found out he was going to be an uncle. 

It was a frigid January morning in Hawkins. The heater in the Munsons’ trailer had stopped working a week before, and Wayne had been too busy working days and taking night classes at the junior college in the next town over to fix it. 

His mama had said she would call Al to come help, but Wayne knew the odds of him stopping by were slim to numb. He had better things to do than check in on his mother and younger brother. Things like keeping the Hawkins police department busy with his petty crime schemes and treating his latest girlfriend with little to no respect. A packed schedule in Al’s eyes. 

So, when Wayne stepped out of the trailer that January morning, bundled in his worn winter coat, he nearly tripped and fell on his ass when he spotted Al on the hood of his car, leisurely smoking a cigarette. 

“Evelyn is pregnant,” Al said between puffs of smoke. “She’s keeping it. M’gonna be a pa.” 

A range of emotions washed over Wayne at that moment. Anxiety for Al and Evelyn and their unborn child. Al wasn’t exactly father material, and it’s not like they had a dad to learn from. Happiness for their family and the joy a new baby would bring the Munson’s. Worry, mainly for Evelyn and the baby, but also for Al and how something like this was going to affect the small gains he’d made that year. 

But mostly, and Wayne would never tell anyone this, he felt jealous. 

Wayne was the one who babysat the neighbor kids when they were younger to make a quick buck while Al schemed. Wayne was the one who always waved to babies in the grocery store line. The one who always snuck his coworkers’ kids candy at the annual Fourth of July BBQs. And remembered to send well wishes home on their birthdays. 

Wayne was the one who loved kids. Who wanted kids. But would never, ever get to have kids for reasons he was too ashamed to admit most days. 

Unlike Al, who would have let the jealousy fester into something nasty, Wayne choked it all down and gave in to the happier emotions. Promising to be there for Al and Evelyn and his new nephew. 

A promise he kept for all nine months of Evelyn’s pregnancy (going on midnight craving runs when Evelyn moved into the Munson trailer after getting kicked out of her own house and then nervously pacing the maternity ward on Halloween night when she finally went into active labor after three false alarms). He kept his promise for the entire first year of Eddie’s life. Helping with feedings and changings. And anything else he could do. 

Wayne was the one to drive Evelyn and Eddie to the hospital the first time he caught a cold and wouldn’t stop coughing. He was there the first time Evelyn fed him mushy baby food that Eddie ended up spitting up all over the place. He saw Eddie roll over for the first time and crawl. He was even there for Eddie’s first nonsensical word — a bastard version of “mama” that sent Evelyn into hysterics and had Al rolling his eyes. 

Wayne was ready to be there for all of Eddie’s first, but then fate reared its ugly, no-good, wicked head, and suddenly, Wayne was being shipped off to boot camp to fight in a war he spent the last three years protesting against. 

But his birthday was called, and Wayne had no choice but to suit up and fight. 

Well, no, that’s not true. 

There was one way to get out of the draft. 

But the thought of admitting to having homosexual tendencies was more terrifying than dying overseas. So, he kept his mouth shut and went and did his time. 

Five years to be exact. 

Five grueling, traumatic, waste of his youth years. 

Most importantly, five years without his nephew. 

Eddie was six, almost seven years old, when Wayne finally made it back home to Hawkins. Unruly curls, just like Wayne once had before the military got involved. Big brown eyes that, despite only being 7, he knew how to use to get him out of trouble. And a brilliant, imaginative mind that captivated Wayne the moment he scooped Eddie into his arms after coming home and Eddie asked, “Ma, who is this bald guy? And why is he trying to squeeze the poop out of me?” 

Wayne knew he’d never get those five years back, but he promised himself to try and make up for them every chance he got. And so “Waynesdays” was born. 

Every third Wednesday of the month, Wayne would spend with Eddie. Sometimes, he’d show up at Evelyn and Al’s trailer early in the morning to pick Eddie up before he went off to school. With Evelyn’s permission, Eddie would ditch and they’d spend the day uncle-nephew bonding. Other times, Wayne would be waiting outside the gates of Eddie’s school, ready to whisk him away as soon as the dismissal bell rang. 

(“Uncle Wayne, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie would shout, running into Wayne’s arm with enough force to send them toppling into the grass. The falls weren’t great for Wayne’s war-torn body, but he never complained. Nothing a frozen bag of peas and a cigarette couldn’t fix the next morning.) 

Whatever the case, the third Wednesday of every month was dedicated to them. 

The first few years, it was simple things. Wayne would take Eddie out for ice cream before stopping at the library. They’d spend hours walking up and down the aisles. Wayne telling Eddie stories that rivaled the books on the shelves. They’d go antiquating — a hobby Wayne inherited from his own mother that Eddie seemingly inherited when he took an interest in Garfield merchandise. 

(“He’s just so fat, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie laughed, squeezing the plush belly of a Garfield stuffed animal. “I want to be fat like him one day! Don’t you?”) 

As Eddie got older, their adventures stretched beyond the Hawkins city limits. Wayne took him to Indianapolis at least twice a year. Introduced him to music. Took him to see movies at the fancy cineplex in the city that sold a tub of popcorn bigger than Eddie’s head. He even promised to take Eddie to the colorful bar they always passed as soon as he turned 21. 

(“But that’s such a long time away,” Eddie had whined, grubby fingers pressed into the glass of the window as he peered inside. “Are you sure I can’t go in there now? They have an arcade machine! Those are for kids!”)

In the summers, Waynesday because Waynesweek. 

When Eddie was younger, they spent the week camping. Two sleeping bags side by side in a tent. They’d trade imaginative stories around a campfire and roast marshmallows until they were burnt to a crisp. The trips were hard on Wayne at first — bringing back memories of the war. But seeing Eddie smile and roll around in mud without a care in the world was worth every sleepless night. 

(“If I catch the frog, can I bring it home?” he shouted one summer, arms already elbow-deep in the swampy puddle. “I promise to take care of it!” 

“M’sure you would, boy,” Wayne said, cigarette between his lips. “But your ma would kill me if I let ya bring a frog into r’home. You know she’s afraid of ‘em.”)

Eventually, Eddie grew out of camping, and then their summer weeks were spent lounging in the trailer. They’d go days without leaving, living off of the groceries they stocked up on on the first day of Waynesweek. The couch always had a permanent butt dent after those weeks, but Wayne loved them all the same. Especially the ones that were spent hunched over board games and later hunched over scribbled-out notes and too many-sided die as Eddie explained some new, complex game to him. 

(“Okay, Uncle Wayne, so now that you made it to the fortress wall, you have to roll this one,” he said, passing Wayne a hexagon-looking dice. “And then whatever you get, we multiply it by the number here, and then if it’s high enough, you get to come inside.” 

“Now how come you can do multiplication in this game, but your ma says you got a bad grade on your last math test?” Wayne asked, brows raised as he rattled the die in his hands. 

“‘Cause school math is boring!” Eddie said, rolling those big brown eyes of his. “There’s no dragons in Ms. Tabbot’s class. Just boring old numbers!”)

Waynesday was a tradition Wayne held so near and dear to his heart that even after Evelyn unexpectedly passed away, Al landed himself permanently behind and Eddie ended up moving into Wayne’s trailer, he still kept up. 

Sure, things got a bit more complicated between them now that they saw each other every day, multiple times a day, with no breaks. They sure got on each other nerves a bit more.

(“Dammit, Eds,” Wayne cursed, tripping over a pair of Eddie’s boots thrown haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “What’d I say about leavin’ these things lyin’ ‘round. They’ve got a home, put’m there.” 

“Fine,” Eddie groaned, coming out of his bedroom to pick up the shoes. “But then stop leaving your half-drank coffee cups in the bathroom! Why are you even taking it in there?”) 

And they fought, like most children do with the authority figures in their lives. 

(“That’s the second time Hop has let you off with a warning,” Wayne tsked, stalking behind Eddie as they climbed up the few steps to the trailer. “Neither of us are gonna be too nice if it happens again.” 

“You make it sound like I was stealing. I ditched one class. It’s no big deal.” 

“Those grades of yours say otherwise.” 

Eddie growled, rolling his eyes as he tore through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a snack. “This again? My grades are fine, Wayne. Okay. Stop worrying!”)

Sure, things were tough at times, but they also learned some important things about each, too. Things neither one of them thought they’d ever share in common with someone in Hawkins, Indiana. 

(“Where ya going, boy?” Wayne asked one night a few years ago when he walked into the trailer to find Eddie shoving random things into a duffle bag. The same duffle bag that Wayne had carefully placed in the backseat of the truck all those years ago when he picked up Eddie for the final time. 

“M’leaving,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “And don’t even try to stop me, Wayne. Trust me, you’re not going to want me anymore.” 

A million and one things ran through Wayne’s head in that moment. Had Hopper caught Eddie ditching school again? Had he got his hands on that letter from Al ,Wayne had been hiding in the junk drawer? Was Eddie in some kind of trouble? Bigger trouble than ditching school and smoking pot at the quarry?” 

“Boy, what are you talkin’ about?” Wayne asked, stalking over to where Eddie was currently shoving tape after tape into the duffle bag. “M’always gonna want ya ‘round.” 

Eddie scoffed and kept his eyes trained on the tapes. It was easy for Wayne to see that Eddie was barely holding it together. The tapes shook in his hands and his growing hair did little to shield his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Eddie,” Wayne sighed, slowly lowering himself to the ground despite the protests of his body. “Come on, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.” 

“You—you can’t. Not with this,” Eddie said, violently shaking his head. And then, in a moment of bravery, Eddie lifted his head and looked Wayne square in the eyes and said, “I’m gay, Wayne. Okay? That’s why m’leaving. And don’t even—“ 

Wayne cut Eddie off before he could finish whatever insult or wrong assumption was sure to follow. He pulled Eddie into his arms, tucked the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and held him tight. The same way he did all those years ago when he had to be the one to tell the boy that his ma had passed. And Eddie cried. Then and now. Big, fat, hot tears that soaked Wayne’s shirt. 

“Eds, boy, look at me,” Wayne said later when Eddie’s sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears. “You ain’t going nowhere, okay? And you ain’t alone either. I know what you’re goin’ through. M’like you, too.” 

“Y-you, you’re gay?”  

“Yeah,” Wayne said after a painfully long moment. It was a truth he had never let himself think too much about. But now, sitting in the presence of his nephew, who was more like him than he originally thought. Well, now, Wayne thought it was time to accept that part of him. Especially if it would help his nephew. “Yeah, boy. M’gay.”)

So, yeah, living with Eddie full-time had its ups and downs. But no argument, even the ones that lasted days because they were both too stubborn to apologize, was going to stop them from celebrating Waynesday every third Wednesday of the month. Nor was Eddie’s newly minted twenty-year-old selfless heart that worried way too much about Wayne. But he can’t really fault the boy for that.

(“Wayne,” Eddie had sighed just last month. “We really don’t have to keep doing this. You should be able to rest on your one real day off of the month.” 

“Nonsense boy,” Wayne said, shooing Eddie off with the back of his hand. “Only thing I want to do on my day off s’spend time with you. Unless you’re too busy for your old uncle now.” 

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “You know I always have time for you.”

“Good.” Wayne smiled. “Then get that boney ass of yours over here and let’s watch that movie you picked up before I get charged another late fee.”) 

Nothing had ever come in the way of their Waynesday tradition before, and Wayne sure as hell wasn’t going to let something break the tradition now.

“Hey, boy,” Wayne says, settling himself on the worn visitor chair in Eddie’s hospital room. “S’the 16th. Know what that means, right?” He pauses and waits for Eddie’s answer, which he knows isn’t coming. It’s been almost a month since he last heard Eddie speak, twenty days since he stumbled into Hawkins Memorial to find his nephew hooked up to machine after machine. But Wayne’s not giving up hope. Not even close. He’ll be sitting here ’til the cows come home.

“Yep,” he says eventually, patting Eddie’s IV-covered hand. “It’s Waynesday again. I’ll tell you what, time sure is gettin’ faster and m’getting older.” 

The steady, rhythmic beats of the machines keeping Eddie alive echo off the walls of the too-white room. Wayne listens to them for a moment, a weird sort of peace washing over him. S’long as they’re beeping, my boy’s still here, he thinks. 

Sighing, he reaches into the small backpack at his feet. The one he’s been carrying back and forth from the hospital when Eddie’s friends come to take the morning shift. He pulls out a blanket, shaking it out before draping it over his own body. And then he pulls out a worn paperback book. 

“Now, I know it’s been a while since we had one of those readin’ days you loved so much, but I thought maybe we could bring’m back,” he says, carefully opening the pages of the book. His hand traces down the first page, past the sticky finger stain of Eddie’s youth. “You best be patient with me, Eds. Y’know these names always trip me up. But m’gonna give it my best, okay?” 

Wayne pauses again, waiting for a response he knows he’s not going to get. And then he takes a deep breath and brings the book closer to his face. “In a hole in the ground there lives a h-hobbit.”

Eventually, the words start to blur together. Sentences turning into one long, giant word. And then, soon after, the letters start to blur too, until Wayne’s eyes are drooping and the book falls from his shaking hands into his awaiting lap. 

It’s not long after that Wayne’s soft snores fall into a steady rhythm with the beeping of Eddie’s machine. 

Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. 

And so it goes for several hours until—

Beep, beep, beepbeepbeepbeep. 

Wayne shoots out of the chair, wobbly feet struggling to find their footing as he turns to the bed. Eddie’s lying there, like he always is, except this time, his big brown eyes stare back at him. Full of life and love and fear as he reaches a weak, shaky hand up to claw at the tube shoved down his throat. 

He doesn’t remember calling for the nurse, but they rush into the room in an instant. Circling Eddie’s bed like an animal stalking its prey. Its minutes of chaos. Nurses running to fetch doctors. Machines beeping erratically. Alarms blaring. Orders being shouted left and right.

Someone is crying, Wayne thinks, as his ears cut through the cacophony of noise when he’s pushed into the hallway. Oh it’s me, he realizes as he reaches a hand up to his tearstained cheeks. 

And then, just as quickly as it started, the chaos dies down and Wayne is let back into the room. Just Wayne and Eddie. Alone. Alive. Together. 

He doesn’t wait a moment longer and wedges himself onto the small hospital bed next to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his frail nephew. 

“D-d-did I miss it?” Eddie stutters out.

With a gruff laugh and a tearful glance at the watch on his wrist, Wayne turns to Eddie and smiles. “No, son, you made it just in time.” He twists his arm, showing Eddie the watch. The big hand points almost completely at the 12. The smaller hand settled perfectly over the 58th tick. 

“Our streak continues,” Eddie whispers before his eyes flutter shut, and his body falls into its first machineless slumber in twenty days. 

#eddiemonth #wayne munson #wayne munson fic #wayne munson ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson & wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 1st: Parents | Runaway - Sword | Youthful cw: allusions to neglectful and alcoholic parent, police, incarceration [happy ending promised, as always!] read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

Eddie runs away from home for the last time when he’s thirteen years old. 

The ground beneath his feet is barely visible, barely felt against the worn soles of his too-small sneakers as he runs through the familiar trails of Hawkins’ forest. He’s run away before, usually sneaking out in the middle of the night when he hears the tell-tale silence of his father falling into a drunken stupor on the couch, but this time feels different. This time, he’s actually running, no backpack or hastily thrown together bag of essentials to weigh him down. 

He hadn’t had time, not with so many police cars showing up at once. 

His breath comes in quick bursts, just enough oxygen to carry him off the beaten path onto a path only he knows. It comes without markers or posts. Why would there be signs here? No one else needs the most direct route between Clyde Munson and Wayne Munson’s homes. A 10-minute run, quicker if he sprints like he is now, connects two different worlds and only one feels safe. 

Uncle Wayne has, for much of Eddie’s life, been home. He’s lived with him on and off for a few months at a time, sometimes after dear old dad had been hauled away by Officer Hopper again and other times, when he’d simply run away and his dad couldn’t be bothered to track him down. Eddie spent nearly a year with his Uncle Wayne after his mom died, a wonderful year where Eddie experienced an actual parent and got to figure out things he actually enjoys– fantasy books, D&D, music with intense virtuosity and aggressive guitar lines. He never should’ve gone back, but the guilt ate at him. Maybe it’ll be different, he’d thought at the time. Maybe he’ll care now. 

The fact that he’s running through the woods at full speed away from what could only be defined as a fucking siege with his dad at the center is all the answer he needs. There’s nothing he can do to help his dad– there’s nothing he should do, because he’s a kid at the end of the day and he never should’ve been put in this situation to begin with. 

Eddie shakes his head as he runs, shaking the thoughts from his brain as he hears the familiar, comforting sounds of people talking in the distance. He barrels through the tree-line into one of his Uncle’s neighbors who steadies him by the shoulders, checks him over quickly to find nothing physically wrong. 

“You alright, son? Looks like you seen a ghost.” 

Nope, just a nightmare, he thinks.

Eddie shakes his head and looks around frantically for Wayne, out of breath. “No, no, I’m– I’m fine. Is Uncle Wayne home?” 

“Eddie?” As though summoned, Wayne appears in the doorway of his own trailer a few lots down. Eddie shrugs out of the neighbor’s touch and runs toward the voice, the one that makes his brain slow down from the spinning wheel it’s been on since the first fist pounded on his dad’s door. 

“Wayne, thank God, thank fuck,” Eddie mutters as he runs into him, hugging him unabashedly around the middle. His fingers dig tightly into Wayne’s back, clutching the fabric of his familiar flannel and grounding himself as Wayne hugs him back. 

“I’m uh, I’m glad to see you, too, kid. Everything alright?” Wayne tone is questioning, rightfully so. He doesn’t know yet that Clyde’s been arrested and likely won’t get out this time, or that Eddie’s here to stay. 

Hours later though, after Eddie’s shared his side of the story and Wayne’s made him a mug of his famous hot chocolate, the police arrive. Officer Hopper assures Eddie that he’s in no trouble, that he didn’t need to run, that he’ll never need to run from Clyde again. 

“I know you’ve got a lot of your stuff still at the house. You got family around to stay with?” Officer Hopper asks, looking at Eddie but clearly asking Wayne. 

“‘Course he does, he’s here, ain’t he?” Wayne nods at Officer Hopper and Eddie catches the interaction. “My old van ain’t much– she needs some work– but should be enough to get us back and forth with your stuff, Ed.” 

The van is more than enough for the barebones possessions Eddie cares to bring: an old acoustic guitar that belonged to his mom, a worn paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring gifted to him by Wayne, and some clothes and odds and ends. 

Years later, after he runs again and somehow lives to tell the tale, he returns to what still stands of the trailer with Wayne. Most of their belongings are either destroyed or damaged beyond repair but it doesn't matter to Eddie. 

Home was never the trailer he ran to– just the family inside of it.

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #flight of icarus #myblurbs #eddie month prompts

[cranberrymoons]

a street light shining

prompt: breeding kink (kinktober), rockstar/confident (@eddiemonth) tags: rated e (18+), limo sex, banter, and steve in lingerie 😇

—

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Eddie is on him, crowding up into Steve’s space and pulling him into his lap, hands spreading out over his hips to pull them flush together as Steve comes up to straddle him, hands braced on his shoulders.

“So fucking hot,” Eddie says, words muffled against his mouth. “God, want – wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone. Let them know you’re mine.”

Steve groans against him, head swimming with it, with Eddie and the champagne that’s been flowing all night and the heady scent of expensive cologne, the hips against his and the hands sliding over the smooth lines of his suit.

“You’re going to take me back home,” Steve gasps. “And you’re going to take me upstairs, and you’re –”

“Baby,” Eddie says, teeth dragging over his lip. Steve chases after his mouth, mindless with it, aching, running his tongue over the edge of Eddie’s smile. “Baby, baby, baby.” Soft and sweet and buzzing with it. “I just won a fucking Grammy. I’m going to fuck you right here in the back of this limo.”

His hands push up under the back of Steve’s suit jacket, spanning out over his shoulders and down his arms to help shimmy it off of him, then back to his waist to ruck up the hem of his shirt, untucking it from the closely-tailored pants that he’d been all but sewn into by their stylist earlier in the night.

“You’re –” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, rocking closer against him as Eddie’s fingers start to fumble with his buttons. “What, you’re going to knock me up like a prom date?”

Eddie’s breath comes sharp and sudden and all at once, hips bucking up under Steve with enough force that it almost unseats him, sending him sideways into the window. Steve catches himself with a hand against the glass as the car pulls away from the curb and begins inching into the line of traffic leaving the venue, and he lets out a little laugh, planting his knees more firmly on the seat on either side of Eddie’s hips.

“Yeah?” he asks, settling down until he feels the hard line of Eddie’s cock straining up to press against him. “You want to get me pregnant?”

Eddie laughs too, tilting his head back to press a kiss to Steve’s lips, sticky and sweet. “Don’t know if I can actually do that.”

“You’re a Grammy winner now,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows teasingly. “You can do whatever you want.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow at him, flashing under the passing glare of a streetlight. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Steve hums. “That I want to have super weird sex with you in the back of this limo?” He sways forward for another kiss. “Absolutely.”

[continue on ao3 || 2,898 words]

#eddiemonth #eddiemonthafterdark #kinktober 2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #my fic

[eddiemonth]

Hello, all! We’re @thefreakandthehair (aka writy Lex) and @nostalgicbones (aka drawy Lex) and we’re joining forces this spooky season as lexes-who-host-fanworks-events to bring you: Eddie Month!

We have 31 prompts, songs, and traits for you all to take inspiration from to make art, writing, edits—whatever you can conjure. The key component is that it must center on Eddie Munson from Stranger Things. Other than that… let your imagination run wild!

The prompts will be released in batches throughout September (the 3rd, 8th, 13th, 18th, and 23rd) so you have a chance to simmer on each prompt and cook up ideas before being presented the next. The first week’s prompts, centering on loved ones and history, can be found here!

Posting will begin October 1st, and run throughout the month until the 31st. Late works will be accepted, the timeline is just for fun!

FAQ | Masterpost | Navigation

#stranger things #st4 #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson fan art #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things fan event #stranger things fanart #stranger things fan art #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #tuserblake #userallisyn #flight of icarus #eddiemonth

[starryeyedjanai]

when the tide turns

@flufftober prompt: enemies at first sight @eddiemonth prompt: cavalier 2.7k | rated: teen tags: "enemies" at first sight, misunderstandings, idiots to idiots in love, first kiss, demiromantic eddie

read on ao3

Eddie wouldn't go so far as to say the first time he bumped into Steve Harrington, it was enemies at first sight, but it was a close thing.

He was just trying to get to his professor's office hours, when they collided right outside of Professor Click's office. It sent the pen Eddie had in his hand flying across the hallway in the opposite direction.

And he hadn't even apologized, this guy. He just kept it moving, like Eddie was the one who was in the way.

Eddie went to get his pen and turned back to find this guy inside Click's office, asking questions about the homework. The only reason Eddie's a little bitter about it is because he was kind of there first, right? He would have made it there before him if he hadn't brushed past him like he was the only person with places to be.

And then he'd had to wait his turn, taking his headphones off and listening to this guy ask the exact same questions he had about the assignment, Professor Click's voice too low and the sound of the air conditioning too high for him to catch what she was saying.

So he was annoyed. That this guy had just basically cut him in line and didn't even apologize for it.

And what's that one phenomenon where it's like once you notice something, you keep noticing it?

Whatever it's called, it's happening to Eddie right now. He runs into this guy one time, and now he's seeing him everywhere.

Once Eddie notices Steve, once he literally bumps into him trying to get to his calculus professor's office hours, it's like he can't stop seeing him everywhere.

And yes, now he has a name.

Eddie didn't know this guy existed two weeks ago and now he knows his name.

After the office hours debacle, then it was the cafeteria, seeing this guy in line, grabbing the last of the chicken tenders, a couple people in front of Eddie. So he had to wait, again, because of him, while they fried up some more. And yeah, maybe it's just a coincidence that the second time he sees this guy is when he's inconveniencing him again, but it feels like it's more than a coincidence.

The third time he sees him, before he ever knows his name was in the library, when this guy was sitting in his seat. Legitimately, literally, actually sitting in his fucking seat.

He got up to go to the bathroom and came back to find his stuff moved and this asshole sitting in his seat - arguably one of the only comfy chairs on this floor of the library. And, okay, maybe he was hogging it for a while, but who the hell just moves someone's stuff like that?

So it wasn't enemies at first sight, technically, but by the third time obviously Eddie is thinking of this guy as his nemesis, his first college nemesis. His first nemesis, period. Because he took his seat, he took his spot during office hours, and he took the last goddamn chicken tender.

And now he has verifiable proof that it's not just a coincidence. That this guy has it out for him personally for some reason.

Because he turned in his Intro to Fiction assignment for peer review and some guy named Steve absolutely ripped into his assignment, saying his interpretation of the religious aspects of Old Man and the Sea lacked nuance.

He looks up Steve on the registrar's website - there's no one named Steve in his Fiction class, so he must be in the other section of this class that meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

He finds a million Steve's that go to their school, but narrows it down some based on their year. Clicking into every single account to look at the grainy little picture from everyone's student IDs is time consuming, but there's a dire need in him to know who the hell this guy thinks he is.

He luckily doesn't have to scroll too far because he finds Steve and wouldn't you fucking know it? Steve Harrington is the same motherfucker who's slighted him multiple times in the few short weeks since they've been back at school.

He does some digging on Facebook and comes up short because this guy has so little personality in his online presence, it's shocking how this could be the same guy who left him a scathing peer review. Other than finding evidence of some weird little frenemy thing he has going on with some guy and the guy's girlfriend, there's nothing.

So Eddie just silently seethes every time he sees Steve and wonders what the hell is going on inside that pretty little head of his.

Truth be told, there were much worse people at Indy State than Steve, but something about him just gets under Eddie's skin. His cavalier attitude, maybe, the way he can just rip into someone's perfectly good paper, how nonchalant he seems to be about everything - it all makes Eddie want to shake him until he gets a reaction out of him.

He's maybe a little bit obsessed, but he's never claimed to be normal about anything in his life ever.

It's nearing midterms when he finds Steve sitting in the only comfortable chair on the third floor of the library and he groans, turning away to go to a different floor.

"Oh, wait, Eddie?" he hears as he's walking away.

And there's no way.

There's no way this guy knows his name. There's no way this guy is calling his name like he knows him, like they know each other.

He turns back around and Steve is walking up to him.

He squints his eyes at him. "Yeah?"

"I thought that was you. Hey, I know you're in Click's calculus class and I'm really struggling with wrapping my head around some of this stuff. Do you want to study together for the midterm?" Steve asks and Eddie's entire world tilts on its axis.

Why would Steve want to be study buddies with him?

Eddie's literally flabbergasted, but he finds his voice and says, "But I thought you hated me."

Steve looks confused. He says, "I don't, I don't hate you. I don't even know you? But I definitely don't hate you."

And Eddie sputters because no way was this all in his head. He says, "But what about the first time we ran into each other? You breezed past me to get to Professor Click first. You didn't even say sorry when you knocked into me."

And Steve still has that cute, confused look on his face. He replies, "If I bumped into you, I definitely would have said sorry. Maybe you had your headphones in? I know you wear them around campus a lot."

Steve noticed him around campus?

"O-okay, sure, maybe I had my headphones in and didn't hear you. But you stole my chair that one time," Eddie says, nodding over at said chair.

Steve looks back at the chair and actually looks a little repentant about that one, so Eddie knows he's right. He had to have done it on purpose.

But Steve says, "I am sorry about that one. That chair is the only remotely comfortable one up here though. And I only took it because you were gone for so long. I got up here and no one was sitting there so I waited for like ten minutes before moving your stuff. I thought you were one of those people who leave their stuff on the good chairs while they're in class, which is such a bitch move. But then you came back and I was gonna apologize, but you just took your stuff and left so quickly."

He does look like he feels bad about it.

And he's not wrong, is the thing. Eddie went to the bathroom and then saw Jeff from his chemistry lab there and he remembered a question he had, so they talked for a while before he headed back to his seat.

When he got back and saw Steve had taken his seat and moved his stuff to one of the other available chairs, he basically saw red and gathered up his shit and left. He was fuming about that for days. And Steve didn't even do it maliciously, apparently.

"What about my English assignment? You ripped my analysis of Old Man and the Sea apart."

Steve snorts and says, "Lacks nuance about the religious themes?" and when Eddie nods, he says, "I wrote that on everyone's assignment. Professor Brenner doesn't look at what we write. He tallies up how many times you comment on other people's stuff and that's how he determines your online participation grade."

Eddie knew he wasn't reading those fucking comments, that old bastard.

But it appears that this feud between him and Steve has been all in Eddie's head.

And that kind of makes him upset. Because he's been running around under the impression that he had a nemesis for the first time and this dude has probably never thought about him a day in his life before today. Upsetting.

"Oh, man, I seriously thought you hated me this entire time," he says with a sheepish look on his face.

"Nah, man. I, uh, I actually keep seeing you everywhere on campus and noticed you're really good at math. And I could really use a study buddy, if you're interested?" Steve asks, sounding hopeful.

What the hell. Why not?

He says, "If you can help quiz me on some of my chemistry shit, I will totally make numbers make sense to you."

And so it begins.

Now, the problem is that he's hanging around Steve so much that it has the opposite effect of what he thought was going on before.

Hanging out with him, with how well they get along together, playing video games together, just doing normal stuff - it all has him kind of craving more.

He feels like Steve is all he thinks about now. And okay, maybe he thought about him a lot before, when he thought they were nemeses, but it's different now that he knows him.

Everything he learns about him, he likes. Every new part of him he sees, he likes. He's never been like this about anyone before.

Steve shows him a picture of him and his friend's dog and Eddie is shooting heart eyes at it the entire time, cooing about how cute his dog is.

Steve tells him he likes playing silly video games with his friends like Surgeon Simulator and Eddie buys a monthly subscription to Xbox Gamepass for his laptop so he can play that stupid game with him.

Steve needs help editing an English paper and Eddie is kind of bad at English, especially citations, but he looks up APA citations and helps him figure it out.

Steve likes playing frisbee with his Ultimate friends and Eddie is signing up for the intramural frisbee competition with him because his team needed another person even though he fucking hates organized sports, especially stupid ass ones like frisbee.

He's kind of got a bit of a Steve problem and it's hard to shake. He's everywhere and even when he's not around, Eddie is thinking about him, about his stupid, perfect hair, about his eyes, about his smile. All things he didn't let himself think about when he thought Steve hated him.

But now, once the floodgates opened, he can't get Steve out of his head.

He likes him way too much, likes hanging out with him way too much.

The semester closes out with Eddie in way deeper than he ever thought he could be. He's never really fallen for someone like this and he doesn't know what to do about it.

Because he knows Steve and Robin are platonic soulmates now, and he knows Steve isn't seeing anyone, but he doesn't know if Steve even likes guys, if he even likes him. He knows they hang out a lot, but that doesn't mean Steve thinks of him as a friend or anything. He's so not equipped to deal with this.

He spends all break moping and pining, so much so that Wayne asks about it, asks who's got him in such a tangle. And Eddie blushes hard when he tells Wayne about his crush.

Wayne looks at him and says, "If this is that boy you stayed up on the phone with playing your little video games with until 5 in the morning the other day, I don't think you have anything to worry about, son."

Eddie scoffs. "He just, he likes playing these stupid co-op games that the kids he used to babysit for got him into. We didn't mean to stay up that late."

"All I'm saying is I wouldn't stay up all night talking to someone I didn't like," Wayne says and it feels like everything comes into focus suddenly.

Steve and Eddie have been hanging out for months, getting to know each other, studying together - sometimes just talking, completely forgetting about their homework or whatever quiz they're studying for, staying until the staff is literally kicking them out of the library.

Steve's best friend is a lesbian.

Steve has texted him every single day since the semester ended.

If nothing else, Steve is probably one of the best friends he's ever had.

He gets back to campus in mid-January and knows he's going to tell Steve, somehow, that he's into him. It might not be right away, but he's going to do it.

He sees Steve the afternoon he gets back and can't help the way his face lights up when he sees him. He's missed him, even though he spent all break talking to him, texting him, staying up way too late with him voice chatting while they played whatever game Steve was obsessed with that week.

Steve's standing in front of his dorm building like he's been waiting for Eddie outside ever since he texted him saying he was coming over.

As soon as Eddie gets close enough, Steve pulls him into a hug and Eddie sinks into it like he's finally home, like in Steve's arms is where he belongs.

They stand there in the cold of the winter, in each other's arms, and Eddie knows what it means to want - with the way his heart clenches and he feels every hair on his arm standing at being so close to Steve.

They pull away and Eddie is suddenly ready to say it, ready to tell Steve how he feels, ready for whatever consequences there may be to that.

But he doesn't have to.

Because as soon as they pull away, Steve stays close and presses his mouth to Eddie's, just a soft, dry press.

Eddie's breath catches in his throat and his hand comes up to cup Steve's neck as their lips slide together a second time, as Eddie opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Steve's arms wind back around him and Eddie wants to stay here forever.

The world around them is chilly, but Eddie feels so warm right now, wrapped up in Steve's arms, with Steve's mouth against his, with Steve's tongue against his.

Steve pulls back from the kiss and smiles at him - this shy, little smile that Eddie's never seen on him before.

"I was hoping you'd kiss me back," Steve says, like there was ever any doubt. Thinking about Steve wanting this, thinking about this, has Eddie's mind spinning. How long has Steve liked him?

He says, "I mean, I think I had a crush on you even when I thought we were nemeses."

That gets Steve to laugh. "You're such a dork. Nemeses."

"Hey, you just kissed this dork," he says, noticing how close they're still standing, noticing how easy it would be to just lean back in and kiss him again.

"I did," Steve says, the expression on his face soft and fond. "Let me take you to lunch? Not in the caf. Somewhere else?"

"You tryna wine and dine me, Harrington?"

"And if I am?" Steve asks.

Eddie grins at him. "I just might let you," he says, leaning in again.

#steddie #stranger things #flufftober2023 #eddiemonth #eddie munson #steve harrington #st fic #st ficlet #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #janai.doc

[artbean]

Corroded Coffin is back with their sophomore album, Memento Mori Motel.

With even more groundbreaking songs than the last album, those four boys from Hawkins Indiana have transformed into men with a message and a cohesive vision—keeping fans of rock and metal mesmerized by their musical innovation that defies genre entirely. (@eddiemonth day 8: rockstar)

The opening track, Jack Of All, plays like an instant classic. The riffs are crisp and clear as they poke fun at both their newfound fame and rural roots. I’m climbing up the walls / You just don’t have the balls / I’m never gonna fall / ‘cause I’m the Jack of All. The second song, If I Object (Objectify), is all noise, with hardly even a second to breathe before the wailing cries at the end. The words if I object melt into the word objectify, closing out the song in a soaring scream.

Hit The Nail Out Of The Park is a thoughtful examination of American boyhood, without shying away from how ugly growing up can be. The tempo may be slower but the track has a grit to it that can’t be ignored. Six Feet Under continues to wow audiences as the lead single, comparing the slow death of a relationship to being buried alive. Daisies sprout overhead / In the thick of goodbye / Now it’s just me in a flowerbed / Eternally wondering why.

In the second half of the album, Necrotizing Facist Idol isn’t afraid to punch up with hard hits or make a political statement. The message is pretty clear in the chorus: He’s eaten away at too much of our lives / He’s going to pay for his sins when he dies / No time to wait / Let’s amputate / The necrotizing fascist idol. 24hr lobotomy is more of an internal struggle of self destructive tendencies, and the desire to numb any feeling at all—and ultimately crashing down to earth when the vices wear off.

Postcard From Hell is a lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek vision of life after death, musing on the afterlife being not unlike a long, grueling vacation. The album ends on a tender yet bittersweet note, with the mysteriously titled Microscopic Fibers (Dying Star). The harmonizing guitars at the end is a standout moment as the song goes out with a bang, which turns into the whisper of the final notes. I can see your fire from light years through time / Like a star that died before it ever graced my eyes / Oh, slipping through my fingers (fingers, fingers) / Oh, how your presence lingers (lingers, lingers).

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #corroded coffin #eddie munson edit #unnamed freak stranger things #jeff stranger things #gareth emerson #st fanart #stranger things fan art #st4 #st #lexidoodledoo #2023 #cceu #eddiemonth #usermaguire #usertiny #userallisyn

[vecnuthy]

to taming demons

@eddiemonth day 4: lost | wc: 680 | G | cw: hurt/comfort, established relationship, depressive episode/social drain/mental low

"You're being quiet."

Their cat Dio raised his head and blinked up at Steve, then stretched all along Eddie's thigh, while Eddie just continued to sit there on the couch, letting Steve's remark go unacknowledged.

The observation wasn't a critique, it wasn't malicious.

It was so soft, meant to light on Eddie's ears like a wisp, and shake down his walls that, honestly, felt as if they were currently made up of dandelion seeds. One wrong breath of air, and he could crumble into the pile of nothing that he could feel trying to pull him in and trap him.

His place on their couch was familiar, as was the press of their cat Dio. His brain told him to respond to Steve's comment in some way, but Eddie couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't prize his jaws apart and coax air past tongue and teeth. He couldn't move his lips to form words.

He just continued to stare a hole in the spot on the rug with his point of unfocus chosen out of convenience and happenstance.

But then, Steve touched him.

His knuckles were soft in the gentle drag across Eddie's cheek with barely-there contact that made Eddie's insides burn and his chest squeeze. Eddie clenched his jaw and felt the muscles flex as he tried to will away the sting of tears in his eyes.

He had never been good at this.

Never been good at facing his feelings headon for what they were. He just knew he felt after not feeling, then became numb after feeling so much. But right now, all he felt was Steve. But that was all he wanted.

He felt Steve's weight settle on the couch cushion as he sat down so close to Eddie that he was almost ontop of him. Even from Steve's sideways position with a leg tucked under him, warmth radiated from Steve and soaked into Eddie's side, making him tucked between his two favorite beings.

Eddie felt Steve shift when he placed his hand on his thigh, palm on display as a offering. And invitation. It was Eddie's choice.

Eddie wanted.

Eddie always wanted, but this was difficult for no good reason other than the fact that it just was.

But this was Steve - the closest person that Eddie had ever had, who met him step for step and pushed when necessary, but knew when grace was due. He sheltered when Eddie was shaken and cradled when Eddie felt broken. It wasn't always easy, but they were always together, even as unmoored as Eddie felt.

Eddie didn't have to be afraid of this, but it terrified him. Steve terrified him constantly, left him overwhelmed and sun soaked in the glow of his affection, but he needed that glow. He needed to acknowledge that the loneliness ungulfing him was weak enough to break through.

He needed to be reminded. To feel.

Eddie felt his jaw clench again, then he somehow dredged up the energy to slip his fingers through Steve's. The warmth from his skin leeched into Eddie's palm like a spray of color exploding into the grey, and he breathed deeply and relaxed a fraction, enough to flow with how Steve guided Eddie's head to face him.

"There you are," Steve breathed out with a little smile that Eddie swore could heal the sick and source world peace. It was already working those little miracles on him now.

Eddie watched as Steve took him in, eyes caressing his features with a level of emotion that was almost tangible, and Eddie craved. He knew that was what he needed. Touch grounded him when he was like this, but he could be reluctant to give into it at times.

But Steve's hold on his hand was so divine.

There was no resistance when Steve pulled him close. He just tucked his head into Steve's neck, breathed in love and acceptance then breathed out doubt and old demons until the only thing left was Steve's hand in his hair and their clasped hands wrapped around his waist.

And Eddie breathed.

#reminder to be kind to yourselves 🖤 #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #hurt/comfort #me 🤝 eddie #eddiemonth

[skepsiss]

His People - Eddie Munson

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

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scents were the first thing that had helped him remember. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2

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

[corrodedbisexual]

BFF (boyfriends forever)

Steddie | T | ~3.3k | AO3 link

Written for @eddiemonth day 2, prompt: Friendship

Featuring: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Pining, Insecurity, Jealousy, Codependency, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, POV Eddie Munson

Eddie realized that it couldn't last forever. Steve was bound to move on someday, find himself a girlfriend and realize he didn’t need his weird clingy friend third-wheeling his entire life. It was all fine. So long as Eddie could be just a little bit greedy for now, for just a little while longer. But never expected actual heartbreak to come in the form of a goddamn guy.

Three things happened after Vecna was slayed by the magical girl with superpowers.

All three, even several months later, felt incredibly surreal. Too good to be true. Eddie, for sure, had never expected any of them. Because life generally taught him not to expect anything good when the odds were absolutely not in his favor.

One: he made it out alive. Barely, and definitely not unscathed, with how chewed up his body was and how much blood he lost; and yet here he was, still walking and breathing, albeit covered in scars, both physical and mental.

Two: he graduated. Technically, to no credit of his own; when the school had to be suspended following the earthquake, parents of seniors all started complaining that it was disrupting everybody’s college plans, so the school just handed out diplomas to everyone based off of their current averages. Including Eddie, because someone definitely made a mistake in all that chaos; he wasn’t about to correct them.

And three… in the midst of all the nightmarish madness, he became best friends with Steve Harrington.

The rest over @ AO3

#steddie #fanfic #steddie fic #misha-bawlins fanfic #EddieMonth

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

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