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tartarusknight · 1 year

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Eddie had this thing where he'd lie to the simplest questions. Honestly, it wasn't even because he thought it was funny or that he felt uncomfortable. It was just that sometimes someone would ask him something, and a lie would come out. Well, it wasn't the truth either.

Because Eddie grew up having to lie. His dad told him to lie to the cops. His mom told him to lie to his dad. Wayne told him not to let people know why Eddie was kicked out, that he was a queer. Soon, lying became a part of his performance, and Eddie was always the performer.

But eventually, it got to the pint where he'd panic at the thought of telling the truth in moments when he didn't feel in control. So he'd lie about the most basic things.

Like once Dustin asked what his favorite color was, and without hesitating, Eddie replied, "Forest green." Like sure, green was a nice color, but he always loved red. And he didn't want to be like, "Haha, I was just lying. I like red," so he gave Dustin a smile and continued on.

It never really was a big thing. He could just confuse people later when someone inevitably asked again. However, there were a few things that started to go downhill. He moved in with Wayne and told the older man he was allergic to celery. He wasn't, but he told this huge story that had Wayne believing. So, Wayne went out of his way to make sure he was always good.

Or when Gareth asked if he played anything else and he lied and spun a story of playing piano with his mother. And the time when Mike asked if he was doing okay after the Upside Down and Eddie went off on a tangent about how well he was adjusting. (Although he's sure the kid knew that was a lie)

Anyways, don't yell at him. He knew it was wrong, okay? He just could stop it. And he wished he could when it came to Steve. Steve made him nervous, honestly. He was hot and kind, and he always listened to Eddie. Three perfect qualities. And even better, Eddie had watched him rip a demobat apart with his bare hands. So yeah, if Steve wasn't kind, Eddie would be scared of him, but... Eddie mostly just wants to bite him. (Aka, he has a pathetic crush on him)

And when Eddie got crushes, his anxiety spiked, and so did his lying. Which wasn't going great. Steve asked if he was busy, Eddie spun this story of a trip to Indy with Gareth. Steve asked what his favorite food was, and Eddie said he liked smoothies more than solid food. Steve asked him what the black hanky stood for, and Eddie said how he wanted to be a pirate when he was younger. He asked more and more and Eddie continued to lie.

However, it got really annoying when Robin asked him, as she stood next to Steve if he was a friend of Dorothy's, and Eddie pretended not to know what they were talking about. Even as their expressions dimmed and Eddie continued on like nothing was wrong.

Or when Steve asked if he had his eye on anyone and Eddie's mouth started up while his brain froze. He wasn't exactly sure what he said, but he knew it wasn't that he was gay and in love with him, so....

Eventually, Erica called him out on it. They were watching a movie he lied and said he had never seen before. She looked at him with an annoyed expression on her face. "Why do you do that?"

Everyone looked confused, but Eddie just looked away, "do what?"

She snorted, "Lie."

He tensed up but forced himself to shrug. She didn't look like she bought it. He huffed, and words just spilled out. "Lie? Why would I lie? There's no reason to. Honestly, Lady Applejack, I don't understand why you would-"

"Cut the shit, Edward." She snapped.

"Erica," a chorus sounded from the group, and Eddie winced.

"But you do lie a lot." Dustin said softly, and Eddie felt like he might make a break for it.

"He doesn't lie a lot," Steve said, jumping to his aide. Which made Eddie feel like dying honestly. Robin nodded, but the kids didn't look convinced.

Dustin sat up, "Eddie what's your favorite food?"

And the words just spilled out, "this is ridiculous. I'm not a pathologic liar."

But Nancy was on the scent now. "Then answer the question."

And he would, but he knows he gave each kid a different answer. "So, I have to prove myself you?" He didn't even put any hurt in his tone. No, he was too busy trying not to break down.

"No he does-"

Except Eddie didn't want Steve to defend him. "Don't," he begged, and Steve's eyes widened. "Fuck," he jumped up and stormed out of the living room. He could hear the party, but words seemed to blur together.

His childhood had been ruined because of liars, and he had become one. Now, he'd ruin his future because he became who his parents raised after all. They'd all realize he couldn't help it. That he was just a coward in every way.

"Eddie!" Steve called, and Eddie pulled open his van door, but Steve shoved it shut. "Eddie, I'm sorry they have no -"

Eddie turned towards him and could feel the tears falling. "Stop defending me!" He snapped and watched Steve take a step forward before he faltered. "They're fucking right! Don't you get that! I'm a Liar, Steve!"

Steve finally took the step closer, "It's okay."

Eddie knocked him back, "no its not! I just can't stop it! My mouth moves on its own, and I can help it! My nerves get the best of me, and I say shit like, no, Steve, I'm not gay! I'm completely straight! I'm totally not in love with you! But I'm going to pretend to be busy so I don't have to deal with the anxiety of lying to you day in and day out!"

"Oh," Steve says softly, and Eddi looks away. "You love me?"

Eddie's mouth starts up, "what I didn't -"

Steve covers his mouth, "I've been trying to get a read on you for months. God, you have not been helpful. So I'm just going to say that I like you too. I really do, and I'm like a hair trigger from loving you, honestly. Robin was sure that you weren't straight, but then you monologed about how badass Nancy was and well..." Eddie winced and flushed at the idea of saying Nancy was his type. "You don't have to be scared of us. You're our friend, and we care about you."

Eddie nods, and Steve pulls his hand back. "I'm a terrible person."

Steve snorts, "Nah, you're human. Robin rambles when she's nervous. You lie. I flirt. The holy trinity."

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Oh yeah, a holy trinity."

Steve clears his throat, "So, if I'm not reading this wrong, you'd go on a date with me?"

Eddie nods, "yeah."

"Good."

A Part 2 done by @fairy-princette

#and everyone bullies Eddie into accepting their love #he secretly has a huge tell and it gets to the point he couldn't even lie if he wants to #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie needs a hug #i dont know why i made this

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hellcheerficdatabase · 4 months

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heart begins to beat

Author: makeshiftcandy

Rating/Warning: Explicit, referenced ED

Chapter Count: 11/11

Description:

He ran when she died.

And she killed him in turn.

Vecna is dead. Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson were, too.

Until they weren't.

Tags: Alternate universe- canon compliant, post-canon, fix-it, angst, hurt and comfort, emotional hurt and comfort, Eddie needs a hug, Chrissy needs a hug, slow-burn, smut, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: completed

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silas-brainrot · 2 years

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Steve wasn’t surprised when the nightmares started coming back again, after going through everything all over again. He had hoped they wouldn’t, of course, but he knew that at this point it was inevitable. After the first time going through fighting Demodogs and watching the kids he cared about so much experience the aftermath of the Upside Down, he had expected it. He had expected to remember the way the sharp teeth of the bats biting into his side and how much it had hurt to resurface in his mind every time he looked down and saw the jagged, uneven, healed over scar marks that stood out like a sore thumb against his otherwise pale skin. He had expected to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat when the mental images of Max and Nancy levitating mid air with their eyes rolled back and their bodies limp and unmoving plagued his unconsciousness mind, with the way the feelings of hopelessness and stomach churning anxiety felt heightened times ten in those moments.

He had expected himself to be on edge and jumping at any noise that even somewhat resembled the sound of that godforsaken clock when the object had gone off around him, the sound always reminding him of the constant ‘what if I’m next?’ that had consumed his thoughts during Vecna, always expecting the worst. Of course, logically, he knew that it was impossible– they had defeated Vecna once and for all, they had all watched it happen with their own eyes, but it still didn’t change a thing for him. And Steve had hated it– had hated how his brain felt like it was constantly only halfway in the present with him, one half attached to his shoulders, and the other up and off in a cloud of mind numbing anxiety and fear, constantly awaiting the other non-existent foot to drop down.

He’s only told one person about these nightmares, and that’s Robin. She had been understanding with him, and had put up with her best friend’s random show ups at her house in the middle of the night, with his hands slightly trembling and his hair a mess from how he had ran his fingers through it in a fruitless attempt to calm himself down. Robin would pull Steve into her door and shut it behind him, only to pull the taller man into her arms and hold him for a few, letting Steve breathe shakily into her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Steve would pretend that he didn’t feel the burning of tears tracking their way down his cheeks as Robin did so— pretend that he didn’t see those images playing in a constant loop behind his eyelids whenever they would fall shut. He would stay the night there afterwards more times than not, finding comfort in the shared experience that the two of them had.

But tonight, Steve couldn’t do that, because Robin was out of town for the weekend to visit some family, and so the brown haired boy was stuck at home, in his all too quiet house, the walls feeling enclosing and unwelcoming to him. The silence seemed to suffocate him with its complete absence of any sounds. No creaks or whines from the structure settling itself, or even just the soothing and repetitive sound of a fan.

It made Steve want to crawl out of his own skin.

He had tried falling back asleep already–had tried all of the bullshit methods he was taught from when he was younger, but none of them worked. His brain was running at a million miles per hour now, and he had himself adjusting his position in bed every two minutes out of discomfort, and it was starting to irritate him.

“Oh, fuck this,” Steve mumbles quietly to himself, throwing his blankets off to the side from his body in an almost perfect triangle, before pushing himself out of bed. He threw his legs over the side of his mattress, resting his elbows on his knees as he laid his head in his hands, running his fingers through his sleep mussed hair, before dragging his hands down across his face in frustration. He had stared at a spot on his floor for a few moments before he willed himself to get up, taking a quick glance at the clock beside his bed and groaning quietly at the glaring red numbers that read 2:30 A.M. back at him.

Once the man had gotten up, he had made his way over to his dresser to throw on the first pair of jeans and shirt that he found, already knowing what he had to do. He grabbed his car keys from on his bedside table, tucking them into his pocket. He made his way down the stairs to the front door carelessly, knowing it wouldn’t matter. Nobody was home, anyways. Nobody ever was. He made his way out, closing and locking the door behind him before he went down the porch stairs, unlocking his car with a press of the button on his keychain, and then getting inside, closing the drivers door afterwards with a quiet thunk. The brown haired boy rested his hands on the wheel in silence for a few, before putting the key into the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.

***

It took about twenty minutes for Steve to arrive at his destination, pulling up to the trailer and shutting his engine off, only for his eyebrows to furrow in confusion when he sees the way the windows of the trailer were glowing a fluorescent yellow, and the telltale signs of a TV being on coming through the glass. He lets out a small ‘huh,’ sound before opening the door to his car and shutting it quietly, locking it up with the press of a button once more, and slowly making his way the distance to Eddie’s front porch, opening the screen door and knocking on the wood behind it. It takes a few moments of Steve standing anxiously in front of the door, his foot tapping a beatless pattern onto the slightly cracked concrete beneath it, for the door to finally open.

Once it does, it exposes Eddie to Steve, his shirt discarded and his hair a mess, like he had just woken up. Steve raises an eyebrow in question, glancing at the man’s exposed torso for the briefest of moments, before looking back up.

“Harrington?” Eddie mumbles out, the man’s honey brown eyes still slightly fogged over with unconsciousness. Steve lets out a strained smile, knowing he probably doesn’t look any better.

“Yeah, hey Munson,” Steve starts off with, speaking once more before Eddie can say a hello back. “Sorry to show up so randomly this late, man- and I’m sorry if I woke you up,” He mumbles, running a hand through his unstyled hair and repressing the sudden need to tap his foot restlessly again.

“No you’re good, man, I was already up anyways,” Eddie reassures with a small, short, closed lip smile. Steve nods, before going to speak once more.

“I was wondering if I could come in and smoke with you, because I have not been able to sleep for shit for the past few days, and I really need to get high,” Steve rushes out, refusing to admit to himself the way that he can feel his cheeks turning just the lightest shade of red in embarrassment.

He doesn’t know why exactly he was nervous– he had been high before, and it wasn’t like this was his first time asking, but he supposes it has to do with the fact that it’s Eddie fucking Munson he was asking. Sure, they had helped save the world together, had gone through all of the same shit, but he was still nervous.

“Yeah, of course, I was already rolling a joint for myself anyways,” He answers with, moving himself to the side enough for Steve to slide in through the door, with Eddie reaching over and closing both doors with a soft click before making his way over to the recliner that he had been sat on before Steve knocked.

He plops himself back down, before going to grab the joint and lighter. He watches from the sides of his eyes as Steve sits himself down on the couch, shooting the taller man a small smile before he places the joint between his index and middle finger, using his free hand to flick on the lighter. Eddie watches as the paper slowly lights and then burns out, leaving behind black, scorched paper, inhaling deeply and feeling an almost immediate sense of relief when the thick smoke places itself in his lungs. He holds it for a few seconds, mentally counting to five before he exhales, eyes tracing the way that the wisps of grayness dance around in the air before diminishing. He tosses the lighter back on to the small table in front of him before reaching over to his side and passing Steve the joint, the brown haired man nodding his thanks as he takes it.

Eddie watches as Steve brings it up to his own mouth and inhales, following the same steps that Eddie himself had just done moments before, and the curly haired man pretends like he isn’t glancing at Steve’s lips.

“Any reason why King Steve himself can’t sleep, oh mighty one?” Eddie asks, managing to keep on his overdramatic and fun front, despite the fact that he can obviously tell that something is bothering the other. Steve lets out a soft sigh in response, blowing out the smoke.

He sits there in silence for a little bit, eyes focused on nothing in particular as he mentally turns over whether he wants to tell Eddie or not. Logically, he knows he probably could– knows that Eddie of all people wouldn’t judge him for having nightmares, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling almost childish. Steve opens his mouth, like he was going to say something, but shuts it back closed almost immediately.

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to, man. I’m never gonna force you to say anything you don’t wanna,” Eddie reassures when he sees how hesitant the younger man is acting. Steve sighs, before he starts to talk once more.

“No, I know it’s just- I dunno, it seems stupid, I guess,” Steve says, shrugging his shoulders halfheartedly, running a hand through his hair once more. Eddie doesn’t say anything in response, only fixes Steve with a patient look, and the younger feels a sliver of thankfulness twirl from inside of his chest at the way that Eddie isn’t trying to rush it out of him.

Steve snatches the joint once more and takes a longer inhale, letting his eyes fall shut as he feels the smoke travel down the back of his throat, before pulling it away and holding, and then exhaling. He lets his body fall back against the back cushion of the couch, a heavy sigh falling from his lips as he focuses his eyes on the ceiling.

“It’s just that uhm- I’ve just been having…nightmares, is all. Of what happened, how it felt, how scared I was for everybody,” Steve says finally, his voice coming out as quiet and small, his fingertips tapping a made up rhythm on to his knee, his teeth coming to nibble on his bottom lip out of nervous habit.

He takes a moment to glance over at Eddie from where the curly haired man sits across from him nervously, though he feels the way the anxiety soothes itself the smallest bit when the only thing he sees in Eddie’s brown doe eyes is patience and understanding, judgment nowhere to be found. Steve sighs silently to himself.

“And it’s just…it’s the same moments just constantly like…it’s almost as if it’s a loop, if that makes any sense? Like the only things I ever remember are watching Nancy and Max levitating, and just how- how scared I was in those moments?” Steve says, noticing the fact that he’s rambling and unable to stop himself from doing so.

“And it’s so stupid because whenever I hear a sound that even barley resembles the goddamned clock, it’s like I’m back there, when he had-” Steve cuts himself off with a shaky breath, trembling hands running through his hair. He wasn’t willing to make himself relive that, no matter how badly he knew he had to talk to somebody about it. He exhales sharply, silently begging the weed to kick in far faster than it is.

“Cause it’s like, I know that it's not happening at that moment, because we literally watched him die, so it’s just…frustrating, I guess,” He finishes off, throwing his head back against the cushion of the sunken couch. He dares to take a glance at Eddie again, expecting him to respond to his ramble.

“I get it, Harrington– that’s what people call PTSD, I’m pretty sure. It’s usually something people form after going through like…a traumatic event, or something? I don’t know, dude. It’s something like that,” Eddie responds with, bringing his fingers from his left hand to fiddle and twist the large rings that line the curly haired man’s right hand.

Steve hadn’t been the only one to be going through this, Eddie wants to say. Wants to admit to the other man that he wasn’t alone in his experience with this shit, but doesn’t. He’s learnt not to open up about shit like that.

“Now that I think about it- why are you up, Munson?” Steve asks, turning his head and body to fully face Eddie’s form. Eddie feels himself go tense at the question, fingers freezing mid twist as he tries to desperately think of how to respond to the taller man.

He doesn't think quick enough, though, because before he can make up some stupid excuse, his brain is already a hundred steps ahead of him, and the only thing he stutters out is an ‘uhm,’ before everything comes rushing forward to the forefronts of his mind, no matter how much the curly haired man had tried to shove it down and not think about it. The image of Chrissy levitating in front of him with her blue eyes rolled so far back into her head that he could only see the whites of them. The deafening sound of bone after bone snapping and crunching from an unseen force echoing around every crevice of his brain tumultuously, the way her jaw had disconnected from its sockets, and then the loud, heavy thud of her dead body hitting the floor.

He doesn’t remember much after that, only the constant tightness of his windpipe, and the way he had been so on edge and paranoid. But the guilt– the guilt had not come until afterwards. When he was hidden underneath the tarp in the wheelbarrow of Reefer Rick’s boathouse, his hands shaking and his entire body trembling as he processed what he had just seen. He had tried to rationalize it, but soon fell short of any way to make it make sense to himself. And that was when he had felt the sudden feeling gnawing at the inside of his throat, a shaking hand coming to cover his mouth as his breathing picked up irregularly. His mind was moving too fast for him to keep up with it, the main thought plaguing his consciousness being: ‘Why didn’t I fucking help? Why did I just run away, like a goddamn coward?’

Then he remembers how terrified he had been when he had watched the small group of people he had grown to have some sort of bond with over the past few days look certain death straight in the face with barely any qualms and hesitation, like they had done it so many times before then. Eddie supposes that they actually had, though, and he envied them. He envied them for the fact that they could be so fearless and selfless, while the only thing Eddie had done his whole life was run away in cowardice. First with his family, his parents, and now this.

Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s zoning out until he hears Steve’s voice filter in through his ears, whipping his head to the side to look at him. Steve looks wary and cautious, and Eddie curses himself internally for it.

“Hey, Munson, you with me?” Steve asks when they make eye contact and Eddie nods tensely.

“Yeah, sorry- Happens when I’m high sometimes, s’all,” Edie says, and he hates the way he knows Steve doesn’t believe him. Curse him and his perfect way of being able to read body language on others.

Steve fixes him with a silent look, keeping his eyes trained on Eddie’s face for a few moments before he forms his lips into a thin line, speaking once more.

“Look man, I’m not the type of person to force anything out of anyone, but I literally just spilt my guts to you, and you’ve got nothing,” Steve jokes out softly, tone light in an attempt to bring the mood up a little, a small smile tugging in the corners of his lips. Eddie lets out a quiet, barely there laugh. Steve still considers it a tiny victory.

“No, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry dude,” Eddie sighs out, bringing his knees up to the recliner by putting his feet on the faux, peeling leather, resting his arms on top of his knees and starting to fidget with his rings once more. Steve can’t understand how that position could be comfortable– Eddie was basically folded in half with how far back he had pushed his heels inwards.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Steve assures. “And I want you to know that you only have to tell me if you’re chill with it,” He finishes.

“I’m not, but I know I have to talk about it to someone eventually,” He mumbles out quietly, mirroring Steve’s earlier thoughts almost perfectly, the only difference being that Eddie is actually talking about it. The curly haired man clears his throat quietly, making sure to keep his eyes anywhere but on Steve as he fidgets with anything he could.

“Eddie-”

“Steve, stop. I mean it. Before you make me regret spilling my deepest and darkest secret to you, Harrington,” Eddie jokes breathily, using Steve’s actual name for what felt like the first time to the younger man. He smiles a little when Steve puts his hands up in a wordless form of surrender, nodding.

“The same thing as you– just a little different. Still have flashbacks and shit back to whatever the hell it’s called- the Upside Down? And the whole thing with Chrissy, it’s just like, a lot sometimes? If that makes any sense,” He stumbles out messily, groaning quietly to himself in embarrassment.

“I take it back, I don’t wanna do this anymore– can we just get high off our asses now?” Eddie asks, tone half joking as the words fall from his mouth. His foot is starting to bounce again, the anxiety pooling inside of his chest making him restless. He wanted to continue talking about this; wanted to let Steve know that he wasn’t alone, and Eddie felt as if he at least owed him that.

He lets out a loud huff of air, tossing his head back to face the ceiling of the trailer, eyes landing unwantedly on to the blacked out crack that runs along the expanse of it, bringing a hand to run through his hair as he mentally hypes himself up to do this. He hadn’t talked to anybody about what had happened– not any of the people who he went through it with, or his uncle. He had kept it close to his chest, deciding to try his hardest to shove the unwanted feelings and intrusive thoughts so far down into his head that he would forget about them completely. He knew it wasn’t healthy to do to himself, but he had validated it by telling himself that it’s what he’s done his whole life, so what's the difference in doing it again? He inhales once more, before continuing, making sure to keep his eyes to the ceiling.

“And I don't know, I guess it just triggered something else inside my brain, after going through all that. I don’t really know how else to like…explain it. It just made some other unpleasant memories come to the surface is all, Harrington,” Eddie finishes, leaning down to grab at his pipe once more, lighting the plant and inhaling for longer than he would usually do, trying to shut off the flashes of images he had blocked out of his head as he did so, breathing out the smoke once more.

His mom, drunk out of her head and asking little Eddie for another beer, a fresh bruise decorating the side of her face as Eddie had nodded obliviously at her request.

His father, sick as all hell but still managing to get his sorry ass out of bed to yell and shout at Eddie and his mother, his hand swinging wildly at everything and nothing until it landed on something: Eddie, his mom.

And Eddie had hated her for the longest time as he grew a little older– old enough to understand what was happening to him at home wasn't normal. Old enough to fight back when he had to, old enough to finally confront his mom about why they hadn’t up and left his dad already. The only response he would get each time would be “Because he loves us, Eds– just in a different way.”

And Eddie had remembered the moment had been pulled out of that hellhole to come and move in with Wayne. He hadn’t been used to it at first– he was unfamiliar and snappy to him, was downright rude and disrespectful, but Wayne had been patient with him still. He had let himself fall victim to Eddie’s sometimes sporadic anger episodes, never once raising his hands or voice to the curly haired man. Eddie hadn’t been able to fully understand just how much Wayne had to go through with him when he was younger, not until recently but he was incredibly thankful for him. He had said it to him too, the other night, when he had trudged his way into their shitty trailer together, and they had just hugged for a few moments, before he made his way to their bathroom to shower.

Then Eddie was snapped back into the present by a gentle, light hand resting on his shoulder. He had snapped his head over to look at Steve, who was now standing next to him with a small, understanding smile. Eddie had let out an exhale of relief once he realized where he was again, passing the pipe over to Steve. He watches as the brown haired man takes another hit, holding it in for a few moments before letting it out.

Steve feels an annoying nag in his stomach at the fact that there’s nothing he can do to help Eddie, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks over what to say in response. He takes his hand back to rest it on his hip as he taps against it mindlessly, trying to pull something out.

“Like I said, Eddie– I’m always gonna be there if you like, ever need to rant or something, man. But I’m never going to force you to say anything that you aren’t comfortable with saying, or… whatever,” He mumbles the last part to himself sheepishly, his hand coming to rub at the back of his neck nervously, looking everywhere in the trailer but Eddie’s eyes, until they meet.

“ ‘Or whatever,’ “ Eddie quotes back, using his fingers to quote Steve, changing the sound of his voice in a terrible impersonation. “Real articulately said, Harrington– Feel like I can trust you with everything now. What’s next, whether I like AC/DC or Metallica more?” He jokes, letting out a laugh when his response is met with a hard hit to his arm, and a grumbling Steve to follow behind it.

“I was trying to be nice to you, Munson!” He exclaims, faux annoyance oozing from his tone as he tries to play it off realistically. The small tilt from the corner of Steve’s lips betrays him and his act, though.

Eddie places the pipe and lighter back down on the table in front of him, pushing himself from the recliner to make his way over to his record collection on the other side of the room, shuffling through its continents, before letting out a small nose of triumph once he finds the one he was searching for. He puts it on, and Steve isn’t able to catch the band or album title,but he doesn’t really care much. He would be happy with anything that the older man decided to put on, just as long as he didn’t have to suffer through watching the frankly, absolutely terrifying look of blankness that had overcome Eddie’s otherwise expressive, brown eyes.

Steve had always heard that the eyes were the mirror to one's soul, and he couldn't think it could be more true than when it comes to Eddie Munson. Sure, the man was flamboyant and had a flair for the dramatic, (Steve had witnessed that himself first hand when Dustin had forced him to come to a Hellfire Club meeting at some point. Steve had been entertained, and the man hadn’t even known a thing that was going on in the game) but Steve could tell when the older was frightened or scared, just by the furrow of his brow. He could tell when he was getting excited over something just by a certain twinkle he got in his eyes before he launched into explaining what it was he was excited for.

So it had scared Steve shitless when he had suddenly seen them so devoid and empty, almost clouded overas Eddie’s mind wandered to places the younger of the two guessed to be less than pleasant. It had felt like a small jab of a needle to his heart when Eddie finally did come back to him, only for the doe eyes in front of him to be crowded with fear and anxiety.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s staring.

“You’re staring,” Eddie murmurs quietly out into the air between them, the two of them both standing only a small width apart from the other. His eyes are searching for Steve’s, and when they meet, Steve decidedly ignores the way his stomach feels as if it’s suddenly filled with a million butterflies angrily flapping their wings all together.

“Sorry Munson I-”

“No,”

Steve fixes him with a confused glance, cocking his head to the side.

“Eddie. My name is Eddie.” He says quietly, and Steve nods, though the reaction is delayed in the slightest.

“Right, I’m sorry Eddie, I didn’t mean to weird you out or anything it’s just that I- '' Steve starts, only to cut himself off before he says something weird, or creepy. I mean, how would you feel if one of your guy friends just casually dropped the fact that they were staring at your eyes?!

“You what?” He asks, gently.

“I was just… I was thinking, that’s all, I just kind of zoned off in my own head and-” He goes to say, only to get cut off by Eddie’s voice.

“God if you’re listening, please, please, don’t let me be reading this wrong,” Eddie mumbles out to himself quietly before he’s making his way across the living room in quick strides. Then he’s directly in front of Steve’s face, and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t flushing with the distance.

“Steve, why were you staring? Be honest this time, you’re actually the absolute shittiest liar ever,” Eddie says, joking lightly. Steve huffs in annoyance.

“No I’m not,”

“No you really, really are,”

Steve glares at him, before bringing his eyes downwards, fingers tapping against himself once more, wherever they can reach.

“I just- you-” He inhales deeply.

“I was scared, I guess. You were like, gone like, you weren’t here anymore, and your eyes they-” He cuts himself off with a frustrated groan. He probably sounds so fucking weird. Curse Eddie fucking Munson.

“Your eyes were like– empty, I wanna say? Or clouded over? I don’t know how else to explain it. And it scared me, because you usually have really expressive eyes, and then they weren't anymore and it scared me because I thought ‘What if he came back? What if he isn’t actually dead, and he got Eddie?’ And it scared me shitless, man, I’m not gonna lie to you and-”

Steve’s nervous ramblings are cut off by a soft mouth over his own. He squeaks into the brief kiss before Eddie pulls away, and this close up, Steve can so obviously see traces of anxiety laying in the brown, honeyed depths of Eddie’s eyes. The younger blinks stupidly at the other.

“I had to shut your rambling up somehow, Harrington,” Eddie jokes.

“Steve. My name is Steve,” He says, mirroring Eddie’s words from earlier. That’s all he says before he’s pushing himself forward, both of his hands coming to cup each side of the curly haired boy’s face.

It’s Eddie’s turn to make a surprised noise, but he lets himself sink into the feeling of finally kissing Steve fucking Harrington. One of his own hands goes to rest at the side of Steve’s face, the other coming around to cup the back of his neck, holding him in place as they continue. He feels Steve laugh softly into the kiss, causing Eddie to pull back from it with a raised eyebrow.

“What could King Steve possibly be laughing about right now, oh mighty one?” Eddie says with a small smirk, awaiting a response.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just that– what the hell do you think my high school self would say if I told him that in like, two years, he’d be kissing Eddie “The Freak” Munson in his trailer after getting high with him?” He snorted out gently, causing Eddie to smile as well.

“He’d probably call the cops or something, let's be honest here,” Eddie supplied helpfully, and Steve nodded.

“Yes, hi, 911, there's a nutcase in front of my house right now. Please come and detain him,” He mocks his older self, laughing a bit more loudly. God, this feels surreal right now. He knows that he and Eddie are going to have to sit down tomorrow, when they’re both sober, and talk about it in depth. But for now, he thinks he can let himself just enjoy it.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Harrington.”

And so he does.

fin.

#stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #eddie munson fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #tw weed #tw mentioned abuse #they get high together and it’s lovely #steve needs a hug #eddie needs a hug #first kiss #steddie brainrot #stranger things 4

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that-ineffable-devil · 1 year

Text

Rainbow in the Dark | Prologue & Chapter 1

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Author's Note: I haven't written creatively in over 10 years and I was a different person then, so I hope this isn't completely terrible. Chapters will alternate between characters' POVs, but will stick mostly with Eddie and Steve. There will be smut, but it'll be a while--I'll be sure to leave a note on those particular chapters...for science. All readers, likes, comments, and shares are deeply appreciated!

Fic Summary: An exploration into our favorite disaster-dorks, what makes them tick, why they are who they are, and how they fall head over heels for each other. We'll dive into their early parental relationships and then likely skip to S4 to add some "missing scenes" and motivations. There will be angst, but there will be a happy ending, because our boys deserve happy and soft and smutty things.

Prologue

Every child’s first lesson is in what not to do. Don’t touch the stove when it’s hot. Don’t run into the street. Don’t hold your cup that way. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Most of these lessons are given with love, with the safety of the child in mind. Touching a hot stove burns you; a car may run into you on the street; you may spill your drink on yourself if you mishandle your cup.

But not all lessons are taught out of love. Some come from a darker, less kind place.

Chapter One: The Punching Bag

Eddie’s first lesson was simple: “Don’t be yourself.”

Don’t fidget—even if your body feels like it will combust if you don’t move. Don’t speak—unless an adult asks you a direct question. Don’t make noise—even if it brings you solace. Don’t exist unless we want you to, and only how we want you to.

Eddie’s father was his first teacher, and he never let Eddie forget that there was something fundamentally flawed in him. Deficient. Unworthy. He truly tried to follow his father’s instruction, but he struggled to identify when behaviors were good or bad—especially when it could depend on specific circumstances.

For example, speaking to his father without being asked a question was bad behavior, and resulted in punishment. But if his father asked a question he didn’t actually want Eddie to answer, and he did—more punishment. It could even be a question he’d asked and wanted an answer to before. It wasn’t until he started school that he learned there was more to language than the words people spoke.

Social cues and body language were a mystery to him, though he eventually started picking it up out of self-preservation. And then he was expected to decode the tone of voice a person was using. Why couldn’t people just say what they meant, instead of expecting him to recognize and interpret this secret code no one had ever taught him? It was hard enough for him to process words as they were spoken, why did he have to devote so much energy into picking up things said without words? Most people—including his father—were fluent in these coded messages. When Eddie asked his father to help him understand them, he learned another lesson—do not, under any circumstances, ask that man for help.

Another of his father’s lessons was that “children should be seen and not heard;” he said it often when Eddie was being punished for speaking out of turn. Through experience, he learned that sometimes he shouldn’t even be seen—even if his father specifically called his name. But if his father expected him to be somewhere and he wasn’t—also unacceptable. Eddie often wondered how anyone could do anything while navigating this absolute minefield of expectations. It seemed unfair—impossible, even.

Eddie’s mother taught him something as well—people leave. Even the ones that are supposed to love you. He didn’t have any real memories of her—just flashes of dark curly hair and warm smiles—but his father often acted as though it were Eddie’s fault she had gone. Eddie couldn’t even defend himself since he didn’t even remember her leaving—only her absence in his life.

So, Eddie reasoned, it must be his fault. She had been with his father until he came along, so he must have driven her away somehow. He would cry late at night, remembering every mistake he’d ever made, trying to tally up all the reasons his mother couldn’t love him enough to stay.

But crying, it turned out, was yet another bad behavior. Tears resulted in harsh punishment, and the more he cried, the longer it lasted. His father told him that it was the only way to “fix” him—that he wouldn’t have a “queer” in his house. In an act that Eddie could only describe as desperate stupidity, he once asked once what he meant by “queer.” The resulting punishment convinced him he didn’t need to know. Eventually, Eddie stopped crying altogether.

School wasn’t much better than home for Eddie. He often felt that everyone else had met and become friends before he came along, making him the unwelcome outsider. He was wary and reserved—unable to hide the unnervingly haunted look behind his brown eyes. He couldn’t understand how all the other kids got away with being so loud and disrespectful, how the teachers would give only a mild tut when notes passed hands and giggles went unstifled. This world was alien to him, and he was alien to it.

Though he was typically quiet, his teachers often reprimanded him for his “lack of focus,” and removed points from his grades if he doodled in the margins of his papers. He’d tried to explain that the doodles helped him listen, but no one believed him. After one too many altercations with his father over his poor grades, he stopped doodling, but then he found it too difficult to pay attention with still hands.

He started drumming his fingers to the beat of whatever song came to mind during class, which somehow helped sharpen his focus, but his teachers found that disruptive as well. He was sent to the principal’s office for “class misconduct” and “distracting behavior.”

Eddie nodded along with the principal; his eyes unfocused with the effort of preventing the tears threatening to well up. Why was everything so difficult for him? What was wrong with him? What would his father do when he found out he’d been sent to the principal? Well, he knew the answer to that one.

Eventually, he withdrew into himself during class, wrapping his arms around his torso to prevent any inadvertent movement from drawing a teacher’s ire. Forcing his eyes to follow the teachers as they lectured, he would play music in his head until given an assignment to complete. It seemed to work, since he was no longer sent out of class and his teachers left him alone, but it left him vulnerable when called on unexpectedly. It was the best he could muster.

The other students weren’t any kinder. Though he tried to ignore it, he knew they whispered about him behind his back. They snickered at his ill-fitting clothing, his beat-up backpack, his nearly-bald buzzcut performed at home by unskilled hands. His father wouldn’t shell out his hard-earned money for Eddie to get “some girly-boy haircut” by a professional. Eddie just thought if the kids would take a moment to get to know him, maybe they’d stop talking about him and talk to him instead. Maybe they’d even become friends.

But making friends didn’t come easy to Eddie. Any time he tried, the girls would either ignore him or talk loudly about him as if he weren’t there, and the boys hurled words so sharp and pointed, they felt like stinging barbs hooking into his flesh. Sometimes, they’d trip him on the playground or throw rocks at him from afar. But he kept trying, hoping someone would see him, and not the stories everyone told about him.

One fateful day, he approached a group of boys from the school’s peewee football league as they stood in a loose circle beside the main building. They weren’t wearing their uniforms, but Eddie recognized their ringleader—taller and bulkier than the rest, as though he grew twice as fast. Eddie tried to join in as they burst into laughter at something one of them said, but the laughter died as suddenly as it had erupted—the group staring blankly at him.

“Hey freak, who invited a fag like you to the conversation?” the ringleader asked.

“Oh…uh,” Eddie spluttered, “n…no one invited me, I just…I thought that was a funny joke…a…and…”

“Oh, you did, huh?”

The boy’s toothy grin was so sharp, Eddie imagined his teeth as tiny daggers preparing to shred him to ribbons.

“Want to see something else funny?”

Eddie’s ears burned as he felt the air grow hot, the tension rising rapidly among the group. Several of them flicked their eyes at each other, all adopting the same sharp grin, while two glanced furtively outside the group, looking for any watchful adults. There were none.

Eddie hesitated, slowly lifting his heel as he prepared to back away. “N…” he started, but before he could finish the word, one of them had kicked his legs out from under him, sending him face first into the hard cement.

Without hesitation, the entire pack dove in to claim their pound of flesh. Though every instinct in him told him to cry out, only a few grunts escaped him as a dozen fists and feet slammed into his stomach and back, already flowered with unseen purple and blue bruising from home. He tried to keep his face covered, knowing that he’d face far worse at home if his father found out he’d lost a fight. Not that this is a fight, he thought. It’s an execution.

He didn’t know how long he'd been on the ground when he heard something big crack heavily into bone before one of his tormentors joined him on the ground with a loud thud. He slowly realized the attacks against him had stopped, too. Eyes bleary with unshed tears and his breath hitched and pained, Eddie dared to uncover his face to look at the scene above.

Another group of boys had seemingly come to his rescue, menacingly brandishing wooden bats, switchblades, and what Eddie thought looked like a tire iron. His tormentors fled, leaving their fallen comrade to his fate. No loyalty amongst jocks, he thought idly as he watched them run. The boy with the tire iron bent over Eddie, his amber eyes alive with concern.

“Are you all right? Can you get up?” the boy said quietly while holding out his hand.

Eddie’s eyes traced down the boy’s arm to his open hand, blinking slowly.

“B…both good questions,” he murmured, holding one hand to his aching head and wincing when his sides screamed as he started to sit up. “But I think the answer to both is yes,” he continued before grasping the hand of the other boy.

“I’m Luke,” the boy said.

His long, dark hair hung like a curtain over the left side of his face, a kind smile warming his otherwise pale features. He gently pulled Eddie to his feet.

“I’m…Eddie,” he replied, staring stoically at the ground, still fighting the threat of tears and not wanting to appear even weaker in front of the other boys. “I…thank you…but…why?”

Luke chuckled a bit, causing Eddie to look up at his now bittersweet smile—like the sun on a cloudy day.

“Us freaks have got to stick together, right?”

Eddie huffed a small laugh and nodded—immediately regretting it as his head rang with the movement. After that day, Eddie was never completely alone. The boys were inseparable—if you spotted one, it was likely at least two more were somewhere nearby. These were his people, his freaks, and he’d never been more thankful for a beatdown in his life.

Post Notes: Poor Eddie--he deserves so much better. It'll get better before it gets worse, then better again. This is Eddie we're talking about--dude is on an unending rollercoaster he didn't volunteer for but ended up riding anyway.

I know this Eddie seems far too reserved and quiet for our boy, but give him a chance to experience his first taste of freedom in Hawkins--where, for once, someone just lets him be.

Chapter 2 Preview: The "picture-perfect" Harringtons are anything but, with a father who sees his son as a means to an end, a mother who has long forgotten what it's like to give comfort or be comforted, and a son who just wants his parents to love him. Despite his best efforts, Steve Harrington can't seem to live up to his father's exceedingly high standards. He struggles with his schoolwork and reading, but at least he has sports--and his best friend, Tommy Hagan.

But when Steve needs help with a literature assignment, he finds help in the unlikeliest of people.

Thank you to all readers who have made it this far! Likes, comments, and shares are deeply appreciated! I, like Steve, am heavily motivated by praise.

Credits

Bat dividers courtesy of StrayWords.

Fic title courtesy of Rainbow in the Dark by Dio.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things #future steddie #eddie munson backstory #i do not know what i'm doing #bullying #childhood trauma #abuse cw #i promise it won't all be this angsty #but a lot of angst at first #let's face it #steddie comes with angst #homophobia cw #fic: rainbow in the dark #eddie needs a hug #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3

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stevebabey · 1 year

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Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels…warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

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springfaekohaku · 4 months

Text

Warning Shot

It was only supposed to be a warning shot.

Steve Harrington found himself staring face first into the barrel of a gun, held by none other than Nancy Wheeler — his girlfriend.

Said girlfriend was shouting at him, while Jonathan Byers stood at her side with matching bandages on their hands, the boy looking just as shocked as Steve. His voice echoing around them and getting lost in Nancy’s booming voice, a side he never saw from the girl that he fell head over heels with. Steve could only hold his hands up in a surrendering gesture, he was officially freaking out.

It was chaos. Steve didn’t even know what to think, he arrived with the intent to figure out what was going on with the two of them, Tommy and Carols voices taunting him in his head that something was going on. But this? He was being screamed at, demanding he’d leave and get out of the Byers residence, while Christmas lights were flickering on the wall with an alphabet drawn into it; he felt like he was having a fever dream.

Until the walls started to tremble and shake, Nancy’s voice got desperate and in a panic at Steve’s insistence to know what the hell was going on, he just wouldn’t leave. Jonathan’s panic at the escalation and the added pressure of Steve being in the midst of their plan, making everything go astray. Nancy had to do something to get Steve to leave, she felt herself building in pressure and like a rubber band; she snapped.

Just as the roof was being sunken in and the lights bursting, a loud BANG! rung through the living room and it all went silent…

Steve felt like his ears burst and could only hear ringing as he stared at Nancy. It was like things were in slow motion and his brain didn’t catch up to what just happened until he felt a burning sharp pain in his right hand and turned his head to see a hole in the middle of his palm. That’s when it all set in and realised what the fuck just happened.

He hears both Nancy’s and Jonathan’s voices.

“It was only supposed to be a warning shot. I-It, I…I aimed above I swear. I didn’t mean to.”

“What did you just do?! You shot him! You actually shot him, whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—”

Steve finally felt everything coming back and clear as the ringing subsided, the adrenaline wearing off and he truly feels the agony and pain in his hand. There is a hole in his hand. In the middle of his palm.

There is a fucking hole in his hand.

And Nancy Wheeler, his girlfriend was the cause of it. Pretty sure it was Ex-Girlfriend now.

He hears the two teenagers shouting in panic and stress, while Steve checked out, only feeling blood pooling out from his wound down his arms and off his elbow. So he releases his hands from the air and cradles his injured hand with his other one, it hurt but his mind was somewhere else and everything seemed to collapse on itself. In his mind and currently in the Byers living room. However, he had a rude awakening as he felt Jonathan call out his name like trying not to spook a wild animal that’s been injured. His name was soft and gentle on his lips. Steve could see the desperation and panic in his eyes, like they were running out of time.

And they were. They were given a moment of peace until hell broke loose again. Only this time, the roof does sink in on itself, with a monster phasing through it and Steve was right under it. He could only look up and see what appears to be a claw, almost puncturing through the roof like it was made out of flesh and stretched skin.

Jonathan didn’t waste a second, discarding the initial plan to coax Steve into safety, they ran out of time; so he lunges for Steve. Grabbing his uninjured arm, tugging him and both jumping over the bear trap and to the room with Nancy ahead, opening the door for both boys and her last, locking it and standing guard.

Steve was walked to the bed and Jonathan sat him down. He had to find something to bandage Steve’s wound, which felt fruitless because there was no medical supplies in this room. So he figured the next best thing is a thin layered shirt that he can tear up and use as a makeshift bandage. It seemed like luck was on his side because he found exactly that. It was a disposable shirt too, it wouldn’t be missed, so he got to work. He had to act fast, he could hear the monster finally break through and its heavy body hit the living room floor. He kneels down in front of Steve and sees the other boy holding his injured hand and trembling. He coaches Steve through it and tells him it’s going to be okay, that it’ll hurt but that he’s here. Maybe it was also to get himself together too. He’s not leaving. As scared as he is, Jonathan knew the monster smelt their blood and now Steve’s fresh flesh wound, he didn’t want it to get any worse than it already is.

They had a plan. It’s all gone to shit and haywire.

Now, they just need to figure out how to trap the bastard and keep it from the others. They can still do this, they need to do this.

Jonathan looks at his handy work and deems is satisfactory for now and turns towards Nancy, meeting her eyes, he sees her guarded, her eyes were stormy and face littered in a ripple of emotions. But it seems like she also has the same conclusion, get it together and focus on the plan; no matter if it’s skewed and ruined.

So, she meets Jonathan’s gaze. She doesn’t even have it in her to look at Steve. Her boyfriend. The boy she shot.

They can still execute in the next phase. They just need Steve to be hidden in a secure place, away from danger.

Away from Nancy and her gun. Which was unsaid but it was spoken in her mind.

Nancy nods, standing guard and Jonathan nods in return. Standing up to guide Steve to a wardrobe, taking everything out and placing him in. Jonathan didn’t feel any resistance, he can clearly tell Steve is still in shock and internally dissociating. He notices that far-away look and how pliant he was with being essentially manhandled into the wooden wardrobe. Sitting him down, Jonathan can only offer a few words of reassurance and telling the older boy they’ll be back for him when it’s over. He wasn’t able to wait for a response as Nancy signals Jonathan and Steve feels the sense of safety and warmth leave his space. A feeling he’d never thought associating with Jonathan, it was new but he couldn’t help but feel his lingering touches, gentle yet firm.

He doesn’t even notice the wardrobe doors close and all he knows next is darkness and being left alone with his thoughts. He can’t help but think back to his and Jonathan’s spat, how Steve taunted him and called him names, said awful things about his family and yet…the younger boy grabbed him and took his hand into safety and out of danger without a second thought. He can’t help but also think about how in their fight, or well, Steve’s beat-down, how Jonathan being on top of him sparked a feeling that felt dangerous and unknown, yet familiar. How he straddled his hips and felt his hands on him and like moments ago, instead of his touch hurting, he was gentle and kind. He felt butterflies in his stomach. It made Steve and his entire world go into turmoil and it seems like he’s come to two conclusions tonight:

Monsters are real.

He’s pretty sure he’s having a Queer awakening.

He didn’t have time to dwell more in the closet, haha, because the sound of gunshots, the sound of like a banshee screeching, Nancy’s voice and Jonathan’s grunts could be heard; Steve had to get out.

So he does.

Steve breaks out of his hiding spot and opens the door, he rushes to the scene of commotion and sees Jonathan pinned down by the monster, which looked to be made out of flesh, its mouth opens like a flower with petals that has razor sharp teeth inside — all wanting to bite into Jonathan’s face as the boy tries to fight against it. Nancy fired shots but it seems to not deterrent the monster, not even bothering it and she seemed frozen and unsure what to do next.

Enter Steve who spots the nailed bat, so he leaps over the bear trap again, grabbing the nail bat and as the adrenaline fills his entire being once again; he doesn’t even feel the pain as he grips the bat in a death grip. He gets close enough and shouts at the ugly bastard. He gains its attention and it screeches at him, now smelling the fresh blood from Steve’s hand and detached itself from Jonathan. It stood and towered over Steve but Steve didn’t feel anything but anger, rage, the instinct to protect and keep them safe.

He twirls the bat to get a better grip and positions himself into a stance to fully swing at the monster, using all his strength and power, he hoped playing baseball for a while payed off.

So he swung, the monster staggering and Steve was hitting blow after blow and that’s when Nancy and Jonathan recoup to see Steve backing the hideous creature into the bear trap. It was working.

Holy shit, it was working.

Steve knew it fell into the trap as it screeched in a guttural scream that he hasn’t heard before.

That’s when he hears Jonathan’s voice shouting at him to stand back and he sees the boy throw a lit lighter into the gasoline which Steve didn’t even notice until it was engulfing the floor and racing towards the trap. Eventually engulfing the creature and the three teens watch as the creature screamed, tried to break free of the trap and even tears off its leg to escape.

Nancy was caught off guard at the unexpected movement and backed away and tugged Jonathan back with her. Eyes trained on it as it advances towards them but then Steve, Steve being the reckless idiot he was, uses the last of his strength and takes only a few strides and twists his body, elbows up and shoulders squared; his feet planted and he swings.

The nails pierced the monsters head before the rest of the bat followed, connecting with the head ripping it clean off its shoulders. The screeching stopped at its decapitation and only the sound of fire burning its flesh remain and the flicker of the lights finally stop and the room stopped feeling like it was going through an earthquake. They stare at the monsters corpse and sees it disintegrating under the flames, taking the heat with it and only leaving scorch marks behind.

Everything was still.

It was over.

Or was it?

TBC…

Next chapter —>

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kennahjune · 4 months

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Teen Dad AU

Part 2!!

Starting the tag list with: @mugloversonly @jackiemonroe5512 @thestarslittleking @jonesen4coffee @virginlemontea @blackpanzy @littlebluejane @paintsplatteredandimperfect @astrid-nomically-steddie @maferisa-7 @phantomrose17 @child-of-cthuhlu @sofadofax @thoughtfulbreadpolice @fandomnerd103 @artemisiscursed @croatoan-like-its-hot @silenzioperso @myownworstenemyyy @feral-possums-in-the-bog @mente-sindescanso @mrslectermoriarty @y4r3luv @a-couchpotato @aknelimdoogladania @she-collects-smut

…

Thursday came in a false sense of security.

Steve woke up to the gentle sun in his face, the breeze of an open window in his hair, and his son’s chubby baby fingers wrapped around his hand.

Steve grinned sleepily at Louie and laughed when baby Louie smiled so wide back at him that his paci fell out.

Steve held Louie close while preparing a small breakfast of eggs and toast, then continued to hold him while making his bottle and setting out a few cheese puffs for him teethe on.

Steve made sure Louie ate first, helping him hold the bottle and then laughing at the pure mess he makes with the cheese puffs. Then Steve himself ate. Clean up was quick enough witch a wet rag and a speedy wipe-down.

Later on, just as Steve was thinking about preparing lunch, the front doors opened.

“Shit. Shit shit shit SHIT.” Steve angrily whispered to himself. Little Louie stared at him from where he was propped on the couch, not a thought behind his wide eyes. Though he obviously knew something was wrong with his dad.

Steve was quick to buckle Louie into his car seat, bundling him up with a blanket and giving him his bear.

“Stephan? Are you in the living room? Come grab our bags, please,” Cynthia Harrington called from down the hall.

There was no getting out of this. No way of getting Louie to the car without his parents seeing. But he’s sure they already knew of the baby, or suspected something. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln were nosy motherfuckers set on ruining Steve’s life.

Steve sighed and looked at Louie. He knelt in front of the car seat and rubbed a hand gently on his son’s face. Louie grabbed his finger and smiled around his paci.

Steve wanted to cry.

“Stephan! Your mother called you so answer her!” Richard Harrington yelled. Steve heard the wind outside pick up aggressively and cursed the mornings sunshine.

“Coming!”

Steve padded into the hallway where his parents were taking off their jackets. Cynthia and Richard were picture-perfect— or they would’ve been. If it weren’t for the pressed line of his mother’s mouth and the hard line of his father’s jaw. Steve knew what was coming before they did.

“Stephan, the bags.” Were his mothers first words to him. Not “Hi, son, how have you been?” Not “Sorry we’ve been gone for nearly 8 months.” Not “How are you feelings after that concussion from last November? We’re terribly sorry we couldn’t stop work to simply call and make sure you were ok.”

No. None of that. Instead he was demanded around like a fucking dog.

“Um. Actually, I had to talk to you both. If you don’t mind—“

“Save it. Take the bags upstairs and meet us in the living room,” Richard stated harshly.

Steve flinched. He hated himself for flinching. But they couldn’t go in the living room. Not while Louie was still in there.

“Actually, dad— it’s very important and I just really need to talk to you guys—“

“Stephan!”

Steve winced at the pitchy tone of his mother.

“Please, I promise— It’ll be worth your time, just— just give a minute, please.” He was begging now. He hated begging.

Richard had grown tired of Steve’s fumbling for words and shoved past him. Steve knocked into the wall with the harshness.

“Stephan, you will listen to your mother and take the bags upstairs and meet us—“

“Dad, wait—“

Richard stopped in the doorway to the living room, whatever insult or command he was going to throw Steve’s way dying on his tongue.

“Stephan. Why, in the Lord’s name, is there a baby’s car seat in my living room?”

His tone was calm. Steve knew better than to think he was actually anything other than furious.

“Thats— that’s what I needed to speak to you about. Please, I—“

Steve should’ve anticipated the slap.

But he didn’t. And his head snapped to the side with the force that left him seeing stars.

Steve didn’t stay long enough to listen to his dad yelling slurs or his mom crying. He simply grabbed Louie’s car seat, picked up his shoes by the door, and left.

Steve had been driving for near three hours before he pulled over. He’d circled the entirety of town before finally pulling into a small dirt path by the quarry. Belatedly he realized someone was crying.

He hurried to get out of the car, rounding to the back and sliding into the backseat to sit next to Louie’s car seat. But Louie wasn’t crying, he was sound asleep.

Steve realized he was crying.

He startled when a broken sob tore itself out of his throat. He hurried out of the car and dragged himself the few yards to the edge of the quarry.

He sat down and let the rain pelt him from all angles. His face stung. Steve knew the slap would bruise phenomenally in the morning. It’d probably affect his tips at work.

He swung his feet idly on the edge, belatedly realizing he wasn’t wearing his shoes or even socks for that matter. His heels where starting to bleed from each time he rammed them into the rocks on the edge of the cliff.

Steve doesn’t know how long he sat there in the rain. He snapped back to reality when a particularly loud burst of thunder rumbled in his gut. He went back to the car.

Louie was still sound asleep. Steve figured he himself should most likely sleep as well. He didn’t know when he’d be able to get a place for them, but he’d already been saving up.

He curled up in the back seat next to baby Louie. He didn’t bother with a blanket, and he knew he’d get a cold with his clothes still being wet, but he deemed it fine.

Steve’s sleep was fitful and restless. Filled with slurs and yelling and running from monsters that shouldn’t exist.

It was a week before he finally got a place.

Not that long, sure. But it was a week of pure dread and exhaustion and nightmares.

The trailer he was looking at was located near the edge of Forest Hills. It was two bedroom one bathroom and had a small living room (with no ceiling light) and a kitchen (that barely had any wiggle room). But it was his.

He’d been at work when he got the call— as that was where he told the landlord to call. Mason— the line cook— called him back.

“Hey Steve-o! That landlord guys on the phone!”

Steve jumped so hard he nearly spilled the waters he was carrying.

“Be right there, Mace!”

Steve was quick to get the waters to the table 7 and take their orders for the night before he rushed back. He tossed his notepad at Mason and snatched the phone.

“Hi, Mr. Gardison!” he greeted cheerily.

“Stephen, hi. So…”

And Steve was given the trailer.

He was vibrating with excitement by the end of his call. When Steve returned the phone to its holder he was picked up from the ground in a bear hug. He laughed and hugged Mason back.

“You got the place!” Mason cheered.

“I got the place!” Steve laughed.

The rest of his day went swimmingly. He would be able to officially move into the trailer on Friday— which was fine by him. Two days of waiting was nothing.

Steve was given congratulations from a few of the regulars. Mr. Jinkins gave him a good slap on the shoulder while Miss. Gladson pulled him into a hug. They tipped him an extra 5 dollars each before they left.

At the end of his Wednesday shift, Steve gave out hugs to most of his coworkers. Mason, Allya, and his boss Michelle got hugs while George and Gwen got high fives. Steve left feeling light on his feet with a to-go bag for dinner.

Thursday was filled with the lunch rush. Steve had to take his break early to check on baby Louie in the back. He felt bad turning George’s manager office into a daycare but George assured him it was fine.

“Hey honey,” Steve’s cooed at the baby in his arms. “How are you doing, huh love? You’ve been cooped up for so long I know.”

Louie gripped his baby hands into the front of Steve’s apron. He was back in the kitchens today, Allya taking his place up front waitressing.

Steve hopped around and lightly bounced Louie against his chest, humming quietly and gently.

Louie whined and continued to cry.

“I know Louie, I know. You hungry? Hang on baby.”

Steve made sure Louie was fed and burped and laid him done for a nap. He only had an hour of his shift left.

Thursday finished off normally and Steve left with his usual dinner. He drove out to the quarry and parked before sitting in the backseat with Louie to eat.

Eventually he took Louie out of the car and sat with him on the rocky ground of the quarry. Steve held Louie close in his lap, letting the baby play with his hands and fingers and babble about nothing and everything.

Steve occasionally answered with little gums of encouragement, but for the most part he let baby Louie talk to himself. He was lost in thought, daydreaming about the trailer and how they got to move in tomorrow.

Before Steve knew it Louie had fallen asleep and he himself was on the verge. He got them both settled in the backseat once more and allowed himself to drift off.

…

We’re finally, maybe, getting somewhere lol. Tag list is open to everyone still, feel free to ask for a place!! We’ll get into some of Steve’s school life in the next part hopefully 🤞

Part 3:

#stranger things #steve harrington #little louie harrington :)#teen dad steve harringon #teen dad au #i don’t remember what else I’m supposed to tag #uh #eventual steddie #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steddie #steve harrington is a damn good dad #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington needs a better family #steve harrington needs a hug #everyone wants to give him a hug #I’ve run out of things to tag

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italiansteebie · 11 months

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Steve has gone to bed with a lot of people.

he's poured his heart into loving them, holding them close, cuddling in, and willing them not to leave, and maybe that's where he went wrong.

because steve has gone to bed with a lot of people, but he's never woken up with them.

every time, they always find a way to sneak out, slide their way out of his bed, and untangle their fingers from his grasp. and he thinks the ones who leave don't notice that he always wakes up when they leave.

so when he curls into bed with Eddie, he prepares himself for a heartbreak in the morning. only it never comes, because Eddie stayed.

and when he woke up, Eddie's hand was still wrapped around his own.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #sad steve harrington #steddie ficlet #touch starved steve harrington #sleepy steve #steve needs a hug #soft eddie munson #soft eddie #eddie x steve #literal sleeping together #stranger things

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lennadanvers · 3 months

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Eddie had faced a lot of things in his short life. Never had he thought he was so close to dying as he was now.

"...excuse me?"

He was bright red. Something was happening inside of him- a knot that he didn't remember was there had just snapped, and everything within his chest had gone loose. The knot had been made of barbed wire. The bundle had started to tighten when he was a kid: cold, lost and alone. It had tightened the first time someone called him freak. When he heard the first laugh behind his back. It tightened when everybody but him had gotten an invitation for the first big high school party of his generation, and every school dance he hadn't attended. When all his classmates had graduated and he had stayed behind. When he had been called murderer.

Somewhere along the way, he developed the ability to ignore the scratching of the barbed wire against his insides. But now you had taken away the metal, the sharp bits, the tension, and all that was left was relief and open wounds.

There you were, beaming at him, small but infinitely bigger than he felt, all soft and kind, like you hadn't just left a mark deeper than any scar he had.

"Good boy, Eddie. You did amazing."

Good boy.

No one had ever told Eddie he was a good boy. No one had ever said he was good, period.

And now he had you in his bed; your hand caressing his unworthy curls, your taste in his tainted mouth, your... You. He had you.

Eddie was lucky he was already laying, because his knees weakened instantly. His brain- that already had a hard time when your eyes were on him- had stopped working altogether. On the other hand, his heart was going at full speed.

All he could do was let out a strangled whiny noise. The lightnings in his belly grew when he raised on shaky arms and felt his crotch rub against the bed. The fact that he had cum in his pants after hearing that sparked in the back of his mind, less than an afterthought. He moved on top of you and fell in the crook of your neck, body limp, chest shaking.

"Good boy?"

There was this white, warm, big thing inside of him that he didn't know what to do with. Eddie wasn't sure if he felt pain, happiness or tears in his throat.

"The goodest boy."

Eddie made a little noise again and put his arms around your waist, as tight as he could.

"Say it again. Please."

#poor eddie needs a hug #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x male reader #stranger things #fanfiction #good boy

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lover-of-mine · 4 months

Text

Buddie Countdown to Season 7:

62 days.

#911 #buddie #911edit #buddieedit #911 on fox #911 fox #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my edit #buddies7 #911hiatus2023 #otp: you don't need to pretend with me #usercam #this is also one of the ones i made in the first week #62 because its been 62 episodes since they last hugged #but whos counting #911verse

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

Text

Father Figures

pt. 2 here, and full version on ao3 here

The first time James Edward Hopper meets Steve Harrington is when Steve is thirteen years old. It is back when he is still pushing everyone to call him Chief Hopper, or at the very least James to sound more professional. It is mostly a lost cause, as he has just returned to Hawkins after his daughter Sarah's death and most people can't help but call him Jim and Hop in familiarity, in sympathy.

It didn't mean they didn't take him any less seriously though. In fact, his cold, grieving demeanor gave him quite the reputation around town. Made assholes like Lenny Byers and troublemakers like the little twerp Munson turn in the other direction when they see him. So Jim doesn't try to push the professional name too much. He knows people around here respect him.

They respect him enough to follow his word, they respect him enough to turn a blind eye when he takes an extra pill or two.

Jim doesn't think too deeply about his reputation until he meets Steve Harrington for the first time.

He gets a call from Benny. It's directly to his line at the station, instead of a general 911 call. He doesn't think much of it when he answers, most likely it was a non emergency from an old friend from high school. That's the only reason people call him most days.

"Chief Hopper. Make it quick."

"Jimmy." A deep, worried breath comes from the phone.

Jim immediately straightens. "Benny, what's wrong?"

Benny usually only calls for a laugh, or to invite him out for a drink. The guy doesn't care about too much, or ask too many questions. Hearing concern in his voice was alarming, to say the least. "Listen, Hop, there is a kid here. And normally I don't care, cause business is business, but it's two in the morning, Jimmy. And despite the kid wearing the most expensive pair of sneakers I have ever seen, he only has two dollars on him for a meal. He got all skittish when the plate landed too loudly. And I don't know..." Benny takes a deep breath before he continues. "...I just don't want to be at fault if this kid's trouble and some fancy parents come looking for him."

Jim can tell Benny wants to say something else, he doesn't push though. Jim Hopper tries to never ask too many questions.

"Alright Ben, I'll be there in ten."

———

When Jim arrives at the diner, Benny notices him and nods in the direction of the corner booth. And there, sitting with his head low and scarfing down a plate of fries is Steve Harrington.

Jim has never met the kid personally, but he knows his parents. Cold, calculating, and pretty much owns half of Hawkins. Jim is starting to understand why Benny has called him.

Jim slides into the booth across from the young boy. He's prepared to take the kid by the back of his shirt and drag him out of there. He doesn't need these kids to be causing hard-working people any trouble. But when Jim makes a thump in the booth, the Harrington kid's face snaps up in fear, and Jim's plan for an angry monologue just drops.

Because there, on Steve Harrington's jaw, is a bruise the size of Indiana itself. Jim's face remains gruff, but his body language softens. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here so late?"

Steve's posture remains stiff and small. "Sorry sir, I was just hungry and it was the only place open. I wasn't—I wasn't trying to cause trouble."

It's then, for the first time, Jim thinks that his reputation isn't one of respect. Instead, his reputation might something worse. Fear.

"Didn't think you were. Just wondering what a rich kid like you, is doing on this side of town, at this time of night." Jim doesn't say it like a question, just fact. He tries not to take it too personally when Harrington turns his bruised side in on himself.

"Would have uh—gotten something from home but we—I didn't have any food left. And by the time I was able to eat, everything else was closed."

"Able to eat—kid what are you rambling about. Let me call your parents to pick you up." Jim makes his way to stand but Steve grabs his wrist to pull him back.

"No! I mean—" he clears his throat "—not necessary sir. My parents left for a work trip tonight. I uh—don't have a number for you to call them anyway. They call me instead, they never have a solid line to contact. Nothing bad happens in Hawkins anyway, so it isn't something to worry about." The last line sounds practiced, like it is something repeated to Steve religiously enough it's become his own mantra.

Jim is starting to put it together. The waiting all day to eat. The bruise on his jaw. The lack of money for food. God, the kid probably walked six miles to get here.

Jim isn't stupid, he can connect the dots. But Jim also knows when not to push things. When not to rock the boat. When sometimes, even if it pains him, helping someone would be a lost cause. He thinks of Sarah briefly.

It's even worse when that lost cause is just a kid.

Jim decides maybe the best thing he can do for Steve at that moment is to ignore the obvious problem and offer him a bit of kindness. "Well, I can't have ya here this late. Could look bad for Benny. And we don't want to get Benny in trouble do we?"

Steve shakes his head immediately. "No Sir."

"Didn't think so. Why don't I drive you to the station? Don't worry I'm not arresting you. But we got a nice cot there, and you can get some rest. Then I'll drive you back in the morning when I clock out. Cause I'm still on duty and all. Can't be driving you back Loch Nora quite yet." Jim doesn't mention how he can see bags under Steve's eyes. He doesn't mention how it would be quicker to his house than to the station either. Jim maybe, just a little bit, wants to keep an eye on him. Even if it's only for a short time.

"It's okay I can walk—" Jim levels Steve with a look "—actually that sounds great. Thank you, Sir."

Jim nods with finality and starts to stand. "Oh and kid? Enough with that sir crap. I ain't Mr. Harrington." He almost says I'm not your dad. But that felt wrong somehow, giving Harrington senior that title.

"Okay, sir—I mean Hopper. Okay, Hopper."

---

As the years go by, James Edward Hopper keeps an eye out for Steven James Harrington (Yes he looks at his file for his full name. Yes, it makes him feel some sort of way he has his name as his middle name and not his father's. Richard would make a horrible middle name anyway). At first, it's drive-bys to see if anyone's home. Giving the kid a ride if he sees him walking. Swinging by a basketball game or two, to see how he's playing.

Then it turns into busting his ragers. Hauling him in for the night not to arrest him but to sober the kid up. Pulling him over for driving while intoxicated with that dumb Hagan boy.

Jim wants to be mad, he does. He even yells at Steve sometimes. But he can't find in him to be mean to him, not really. Not when he's pretty sure the only thing Steve has consumed in days is alcohol. Not when even though he has gotten much bigger, and the bruises are less visible, Steve never ceases to flinch when Jim grabs him.

So mostly, Jim either just drives him home or brings him in, giving him a sandwich and bed for the night.

Around when Steve is sixteen though, things get worse for Jim. He becomes more frustrated, with Steve, with his job, and with this town. He takes more pills. He neglects his job. He forgets Steve.

Then the Upside Down happens for the first time. Jim tries to better himself for Joyce and the kids. He mainly though does it for El. His second chance, his new reason for trying, his daughter.

Jim knows it's okay to get a little lost in taking care of her. That it's a good thing, and she deserves his full attention.

He does feel a bit of guilt though, after round two of the Upside Down. When Steve Harrington sits in Joyce Byer's living room, looking like he went ten rounds with a semi.

The kids are all over him (including Mike which shocks the hell out of him). Dustin is trying to stop the bleeding on his face, Lucas is holding ice against his head and even El, who Steve met for all of five minutes, is sitting beside him on the couch, holding his shoulder up. There is a look in El's eyes as she stares up at Steve. Like she can see through him, like she knows him. Like she understands him.

Jim feels his heart break a little.

He approaches Steve in a crouched position. "Hey kid, I think we better take you to a hospital. You look like shit." He is sure there is a better way to say it, but Jim Hopper is a blunt man and that was never going to change.

The redhead, Max, snorts. "That's honestly the nicest way to put it."

Steve glares, Jim can't decide if it's at him or the kids. "No. I'm okay."

Dustin shouts, "Steve you are most definitely not okay. Hop's right you look like shit—"

"Language."

Dustin ignores Steve, "—and that's just externally. Who knows what's going on internally."

"C'mon kid, I can drive ya." Jim moves to help him stand.

Steve bursts with anger and pushes Jim away. "I said no. And you're not my dad."

Jim's jaw tightens and he resists the urge to scream back: and thank god for that.

El speaks before he can yell back. "You're hurt." It's soft, it's demanding and it's so very El. Jim watches Steve crumble back into the couch.

His voice is rougher than before, but much more gentle, "No hospitals."

"Okay. At least let Joyce look at ya. She used to be a nurse." Jim puts a hand on his shoulder, careful not to jostle him.

"Okay, Hopper. Okay, Hop."

———

After that, for a little while, Jim tries to look out for Steve again. It's harder this time though. He's more independent and harder to catch sight of. When he does see him, one of the gremlins is around him, and he can't check-in. And Hop has El, and he can't neglect her in favor of Steve. He tries to balance it out, but in the end, Steve isn't his kid.

Jim finds a small loophole though, which is El herself.

He worries about her every she since she ran away and he didn't even notice. And he knows Steve, like him, has a soft spot for the kids. So under the guise of babysitting, Jim gets Steve in his cabin once a week. So someone other than Joyce or Jonathan (or horribly, mike) is spending time with her. Sure, he's not there to keep an eye out for Steve himself, but it's the closest he's going to get.

Besides, biological daughter or not, El is just like Jim. She has a habit of collecting strays. If it's not going to be him looking out for Steve, he can't think of anyone better for the job than his little girl.

———

After Starcourt, somewhere in a Russian prison, Jim thinks of Steve.

Every day, Jim thinks of El. Misses her. Longs to hear her laugh even longs to hear her yell back at him. Every day, Jim thinks of his daughter and mourns what could have been. But Jim knows she's being taken care of. Knows Joyce and the boys will love her, and take care of her. Make sure she knows nothing else but kindness.

He worries though, between those moments, about how there is no one there for Steve.

———

Months later, in Hawkins Memorial, Jim Hopper finds Steve Harrington in a hospital chair next to Eddie Munson's comatose body.

Jim has a lot of questions but doesn't get any of them out because suddenly Steve Harrington is right in front of him, sucking in a harsh "Hop," and then collapsing in Jim’s arms.

Jim holds him close, says nothing, and cries silently with him.

———

During the summer that follows, James Edward Hopper notices a change within Steven James Harrington. Despite the obvious PTSD the boy suffers, and the scars that litter his body, Steve is visibly happier than Jim has ever seen him. He laughs more, he openly cries more, and he loves more.

Steve's now living with Robin in a tiny two-bedroom downtown. He comes to family dinner with the entire party every Sunday. He shares a cup of tea (no more beer for either of them) and a cigarette every Thursday evening on the Byers-Hoppers front porch.

Most noticeably, the biggest difference Jim sees in Steve is Eddie Munson.

Jim once again isn't stupid. And despite being an ex-cop isn't a bigot (he couldn't find himself back at the force, the corruption is too much for him. And he himself, was never very good at his job). So he can easily come to the conclusion that Steve has a massive crush on Eddie Munson.

Dear. God.

It's not that he has a problem with Eddie being a boy, but it's the fact that out of all people he can choose from, Steve had to go and fall for the twerp who used to trip over his laces when running away from Jim for the third time.

Jim feels, after all the years of neglect that Steve faced, he could do so much better.

Steve is happy though for once, and Jim doesn't say anything at first. But it becomes so painful to watch. The lingering touches. The longing gazes. The nicknames (sweetheart, honey, dear god did he just say big boy—).

Nothing ever comes of it though, it's August and neither of them has done anything but pine. And Jim seems to be the only one who notices.

At first, he thinks it's cause everyone is being kind, and giving them room to explore themselves. But with everyone making jokes about Robin and Steve (from the kids) or Steve and Nancy (from Eddie), it seems like no one notices the excruciating flirting between the two.

(Except for maybe Robin, but Jim isn't quite sure Steve and she aren't one organism. He doesn't count her)

Still, Jim ignores it though. He has learned his listen from Mike and El. Getting involved makes everything worse.

That is until, the second week in August right before family dinner, when he finds Steve and Eddie early, sitting on the couch, with Eddie dabbing the blood off of Steve's face.

"What happened?" Jim is over on Steve's other side in an instant.

"Nothing Hop, it's stupid." Steve tries to shrug off, and he looks towards Eddie briefly.

Jim's vision, for a brief brief moment, is filled with unclear rage. It's enough to consume him and makes him impulsive. Jim can't help but think he got it wrong. Maybe the two are together, and Steve had fallen into a bad relationship. He knew that Eddie was trouble, but he didn't think about it being that kind.

And though he is being irrational, and being for once a little stupid, no one can really blame him when he hauls Eddie up by the collar and into his line of vision.

"Munson, did you put your goddamn hands on my kid?"

Jim can hear Joyce, El, and Will (the only other people in the house) all run out into the living room at the sheer volume of Jim's voice.

Steve sits frozen, Joyce and El yell at him to "put him down, oh my god."

And Munson? He starts to ramble.

"No. No! I would never, ever hurt anyone. Haven't we learned this by now? I can barely kill a spider. I have to put them in a cup and put them outside." Eddie chuckles nervously, waving his hands around frantically.

Jim's grip tightens and pulls him closer. He's pretty sure his vibrating at this point.

Suddenly though, Eddie becomes deathly serious. As if he just realizes what Hopper has said.

"Hop, I would lay down my life before I ever hurt Steve. There is no one in this world that deserves kindness more than him. And if I ever do hurt him, whether it be emotionally or physically, I give you full permission to beat me up. Hell, I'll probably throw myself at your fist."

Jim doesn't let go but stays silent as he listens.

"You see, Steve here decided to pull a you when some jerks wouldn't leave me alone at Family Video today. They were throwing around a bunch of slurs. Nothing I haven't heard before. And even though I could handle myself—“ Eddie gives Steve a look “Steve here always has to be the hero and decided to defend my honor. And of course, it just had to turn physical. And Steve decided to take on three guys on his own. Got to say though, he held his own. It was kinda hot honestly—"

Jim hears Steve choke a little beside them, startling him out of his frozen state.

"—And he only got a cut on his forehead from one of the dickwads class rings. I'm a little worried he has another concussion though. Believe me, Hop when I say, I am just as pissed at those guys as you."

At the end of his speech, Eddie calms down and even holds eye contact with Jim. He still doesn't let go of the twerp, despite being considerably less angry. Well, at least at Eddie.

It's Steve though that finally gets him to let go. "Dad, please put Eddie down."

Steve says it like it's nothing. Steve says it likes its the easiest thing in the world. But to Jim, to Jim it's the best thing he's gotten since El.

Instantaneously, Jim drops Eddie back on the ground and scoops Steve into a bone-crushing hug. "You got to stop scaring me like this kid. Can't lose you again."

Steve's almost his height now, so he tucks Steve's head into his shoulder and lays his head on top of his hair. He hears a muffled, wet "I'm sorry" against him.

Jim chokes back tears as he says, "No, no you got nothing to apologize for. Just be more careful. Okay?"

Steve releases himself from his hold and looks at him. "Okay, Hop. Okay, Dad."

Jim ruffles his hair without jostling his head too much. He thinks he would do anything for his kids. Including pushing along this nightmare of a pining contest.

"And if you like him I like him too."

"Huh?" Steve says confused.

"Eddie here. If you like him, then he's okay by me."

Steve goes to stop Jim, but he's already one step ahead. "But if he hurts you even in the slightest, you're watching me dig the grave I'm going to bury him in. Understand?"

Steve blushes from head to toe and nods frantically, knowing if he protests it will only make the conversation longer. The room is silent until Eddie speaks.

"Don't worry Hop, I'll dig the grave for you." Eddie's voice, despite the threat, is filled with delight, wonder, and hope.

My work here is done Jim thinks as he gives the boys one last nod and leaves the room.

And if later, if Jim sees Steve and Eddie holding hands at the dinner table he doesn't comment on it. And if he sees Eddie give Steve's knuckles a light kiss, and whisper something that almost looks like "I love you", he only smiles at the two boys. Because if one more person loves his boy, it's a win for him.

Because James Edward Hopper, thinks his son Steve deserves that and so much more.

———

okay I spent waaaay too much time on this (as per usual) but I wanted to dive in a little more on Steve and Hoppers relationship (and how it impacts Steve and Eddie). I feel like a lot of fics makes them distant friends (which is canonically correct I guess) or surrogate family with no explanation. And I like the idea of them slowing building a father son relationship. Really leaning into you choose your family. I know people have mixed feelings about Steve calling him Dad (honestly sometimes I too think it’s cringey) but sometimes I love it and that boy deserves a good father figure. Even though steddie doesn’t come in until the end, I think it all really blends together nicely. Also in my head either the boys are both out to each other, is at least it’s heavily implied or is a known safe space they are in. We do not support outing people in the house. It’s probably a one-shot, but maybe I’ll add more snippets later on. For now it felt like a good place to stop.

As always I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just zoned out for like two hours as I wrote it. It kinda made me emotional I’m not going to lie.

part 2 here and the full version on ao3 here

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tartarusknight · 11 months

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Let's say for fun that Eddie Munson isn't just gay or just straight. If he's not one of them, I believe he'd be pansexual. Yes, bi exists, but I feel like it isn't Eddie. I can just imagine young Eddie not knowing that people don't just fall in love with everyone who's kind to them. He tells his dad how much he wants to marry the neighbor's son, and that's when he has a wake-up call.

He learns that everyone, in fact, does not, not care about what is in someone's pants. And when he moves in with Wayne, he tries to ignore that part of himself that likes boys.

But throughout school, Eddie learns he has a type. Pretty jocks who have hearts of gold. Chrissy Cunningham, who was head cheerleader and played volleyball. But she was soft and sweet. She was kind to Eddie, and Eddie fell for her.

The man he fell for, though, he was a harder read. At first, he couldn't stand him. The boy was always looking a million miles away, like he was better than everyone else. But then... then Eddie had seen him at the store, talking with Joyce Byers. He had been kind to her, and when he noticed the young Will Byers, he hadn't been prickly. No, Steve Harrington had oohed and ahhed over one of his drawings.

And well, Eddie knew that in school, Steve and his friends didn't deal with Jonathan. Jonathan was a year younger, and Steve hadn't given him a second glance. But he had been kind to these two like it was God-given right.

When Joyce had asked Steve about his parents, well, Steve hadn't gotten bitch, just awkward. He explained they had a big trip so Steve just took the bus. 15 years old and already being independent. After that, the distant looks, bored stares... well they didn't look so bored, so high and mighty. They just looked lonely.

Eddie had been instantly hooked on watching him. And when you watched, you saw the heart of gold leak through. So throughout school, Eddie nursed his two crushes, and when Chrissy asked him for drugs, he couldn't say no. Not even when he didn't want to see her mess up her life. He brought her back to the trailer and experienced one of the worst nights of his life. Just when he thought that maybe there was a chance he'd at least become friends with her.

He didn't think that watching her die would bring him Steve, though. And with his shitty week, he couldn't even tell himself to hold back. He flirted, got in his face, and called him pet names. Whatever he could think of, he did. He didn't think of any backlash when it felt like he'd be thrown in jail or killed by freaky supernatural shit.

Eddie fell even further, getting to watch Steve rip a bat apart. It was so fucking Ozzy. And then, as Eddie had laid in Dustin's arms, never expecting to get up again, Steve was there. Like a goddamm angel. He told the man as much.

Sure, he wouldn't remember when he woke up. But that was later Eddie's problem. Not that it was a problem. No, because when Eddie wakes up, Steve will be there, and he'll tell Eddie that it's okay to pick the hard choice. To love the option that would make it so much harder when the person you love is right next to you.

Yes, Eddie Munson might not have been gay or straight. He might have loved Chrissy or not. But he did fall for Steve and well... Steve, I imagine that Steve will find himself learning to love someone new in Eddie. That Nancy didn't have to be he only option. That he could be happy with Eddie.

That when Eddie was better and Vecna was dead, they could start a life together. One where the kids were still a big part of it, and Robin was their roommate. One where love wasn't easy, but it was worth it.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie needs a hug #pansexual eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #didn't proof read #this is just a ramble #knightly talks

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hellcheerficdatabase · 9 months

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'86 Baby

Author: Em_Jaye

Rating/Warning: Mature, referenced ED, s*icide attempt and thoughts

Chapter Count: 4/4

Description:

1986 really was Eddie Munson's year. He graduated. Moved to Chicago. Corroded Coffin started to gain a following. He made new friends and got a cool new job.

Everything was great.

Now if he could just survive until 1987, things would be perfect.

Tags: Alternate universe- no vecna, time loop au, angst, angst with a happy ending, Eddie needs a hug, Chrissy needs a hug, HUGS FOR ALL, hurt/comfort, please just give my girl some love, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: completed

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ladykailitha · 6 months

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I See You Shiver With Antic--

Remember that one shot I was telling you about? This is that, but I split it in two because I'm a Dweeb!

Summary: Eddie and Robin are taking their friends to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show where they all dress up. Only thing don't go quite according to plan when Steve gets self conscious about his costume. Now it's a race to get the belle to the ball, Eddie has just the fairy godmother in mind, his old friend Janice former Hellfire Club member and now makeup artist.

***

Eddie heaved a sigh. He had been knocking on Steve’s door for the last ten minutes without much success in getting his friend to open his bedroom door.

“Come on, Stevie,” he cooed. “I’m standing here in fishnet tights and a corset, how much worse could it be?”

He was dressed up as Dr. Frank N. Furter as all of the older teenagers were dressing up as Rocky Horror Picture Show characters for a midnight showing down at the Hawk. Nancy and Jonathan were dressed up as Janet and Brad. Argyle had chosen Riff Raff and Robin was Columbia.

They were supposed to be there at 10pm, for a pre-show party, but if Steve didn’t come out soon, they were going to miss it.

All their friends were waiting by the front door, looking up at Eddie trying to get him to come out. Everyone had tried at least once. Even Nancy. And now they were back to Eddie giving it a go.

“You promise not to laugh?” came the quiet plea from behind the door.

Eddie gave the crowd below a thumbs up as he said, “I promise.”

He heard the click of the door unlocking, but the door didn’t open. So Eddie went in.

He licked his lips to wet them as his mouth had gone dry at the sight before him. Laughing was the farthest thing that Eddie wanted to do in that moment.

Steve could have been anyone. The criminologist, Dr Everett, hell he could have even gone as Eddie, the character, not Munson. But no. Standing before him in the middle of the bedroom was Steve Harrington dressed in nothing but sandals and gold booty shorts.

As Rocky Horror himself.

Eddie tried to think about the implications of that because it could go so many ways, not the least of which was signaling to Nancy he wanted to get back with her.

But he secretly hoped that Steve had done it because he wanted to be Eddie’s creation. That he would belong to Eddie.

But all that those thoughts went out the window when he noticed that Steve had his arms wrapped around his middle and was looking away from him.

“Oh, Stevie,” he murmured and opened his arms for him.

Steve went willingly into his embrace. “I thought I could do it. I tried. I promised Robin. But the scars...I just can’t.”

Ah.

Yeah, okay. Eddie didn’t really care about his scars, but most of the largest ones were covered by the corset. Not like Steve’s. They were all out for anyone to gawk at.

Personally, he didn’t think they stood out that much. The other times he had seen Steve shirtless over the summer when they had been out swimming, they didn’t really stand out.

But it wasn’t his opinion that mattered. It was Steve’s.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You have three options. Stay home–”

“No I want to go!”

Eddie rubbed Steve’s back. “Okay, it’s okay. You could go as someone else. It’s funny, but their Eddie doesn’t dress much differently then I do, it would be a quick and easy fix.”

Steve was quiet. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.

“Or we can cover it up with makeup,” He concluded.

Steve frowned and stepped back. “You can do that?”

He grinned. “Well not me specifically, but yeah, I’ve got a friend who could cover the scars.”

Steve stepped out of Eddie’s arms, a loss Eddie keenly felt, and nodded. “We can try covering up the scars and if that doesn’t work, I can dress up as Eddie.”

Eddie grinned. “You’ve got it, big boy. I’ll be right back.”

Eddie dashed down the stairs and quickly explained the problem and that he had a plan, two actually.

Grudgingly they agreed to go to the party without Eddie and Steve. Once they were out the door, Eddie dashed to the nearest phone. He called Wayne first to bring a change of clothes for Steve.

The second phone call more important, and really hoped she answered.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she picked up. “Janice, apple of eye and love of my heart...” he began dramatically.

“Eddster!” she greeted back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Babe,” Eddie said with a grin, “I’m calling in my favor.”

“Oohh...” she said. “I’m all ears. I was so sure you would be holding that over my head for years.”

“Must needs must, darling,” Eddie said in a fake English accent. Then he told her the plan. “Bring your kit, we have Cinderella to get ready for the ball.”

“Color me intrigued,” she said. “I’m in. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Fly faster, fairy godmother,” Eddie said. “This is an emergency.”

Ten minutes later the doorbell rang and Eddie threw open the double doors.

“Hello, Janice!” he greeted warmly. “We’re set up in the kitchen. If you’ll follow me.”

She dutifully fell in step behind him and marched double time to the kitchen.

Objectively Janice knew who’s house this was, Eddie had even said his name when calling in his favor, but it was quite another to be standing in Steve Harrington’s kitchen with him in gold shorts, looking embarrassed.

Steve Harrington who had never been anything but confident his entire life. He was rich, popular, good looking, and if you believed the rumors a regular goofball. But this was not that boy.

His nostrils flared when she paused in front of the door and he glanced behind him as if to look for another exit. He also had ginormous scars on his both his sides and a wicked one on his neck. He was skittish in a way she instantly understood. He moved the way her uncle did having come home from Vietnam.

She moved out of the way of the door and to his left side at first, but again he flinched and she moved to his right. He relaxed, not enough to remove his arms from his sides, but enough that he was looking at her.

She had heard all the rumors about what had gone down during spring break and hadn’t believed any of them, but she was starting think there was more to them then she had thought.

“Janice, you remember Steve from school?” Eddie said. “Steve this Janice former president of the Hellfire Club, makeup artist, and all round drama queen.”

“Oh I do remember you!” Steve said excitedly, smiling for the first time. “You’re the one that told Carol that coral was so not her color and that it was basically orange.”

Eddie and Janice laughed.

“Oh god,” Janice said wiping away literal tears, “I can’t believe you remember that.”

Steve grinned. “I remembered it because that’s what I told her when she bought it.”

Janice’s jaw dropped. “That’s hilarious!”

Eddie hid a smile behind his hand, grateful that they were getting along.

Steve cleared his throat. “So you’re going to make the scars go away?”

She nodded. “There are a couple things we can do,” she said. “It depends on if you plan on getting it wet, how much people are going to see, and if it’s going to be hot, making you sweat.”

Steve looked to Eddie because he didn’t have an answer to any of those questions.

“It’ll be mostly standing in line to see the movie and then after, so short-ish time,” Eddie said tilting his hand back and forth. “As for getting wet, I wasn’t planning on being in the first couple of rows, not with newbies coming. But I don’t know how hot the theater is going to be.”

“So plan for it being hot just to be on the safe side, but doesn’t need to be waterproof, got it.”

She set her rather large case on the counter and opened it up. Steve watched in fascination as more and more drawers pulled out.

“It’s like magic,” he whispered.

Janice whirled around to face him. “And that’s why I will be your fairy godmother for the evening. Let’s get the belle to the ball!”

She got to work painting his hand different colors trying to match his skin tone, finally finding the one that would work.

“That’s lighter than my skin tone, though,” Steve said with a frown.

Janice hummed. “Yup, because once it’s applied to the scar, the tone will even out.”

“Cool.”

She grinned up at him.

About halfway through the process, Eddie went to go answer the door and came back with a backpack filled with clothes.

Twenty minutes after she started, Janice stepped back to admire her work. “You’ve got a mirror or something around here?”

Steve pointed to a nearby room. “That’s a bathroom.”

She nodded and grabbed his hand and hauled him into the room with her. He went, laughing all the way.

Steve looked into the mirror and gasped. “You can’t tell it was ever there at all,” he whispered. His hand hovered over top, not daring to touch it for fear of ruining her work.

“You can touch it,” she said. “That’s the point. It won’t smear or anything like that.”

He looked over at her with a grin. “You’re amazing, thank you.”

They went back to the kitchen where Eddie was waiting.

She finally took in Eddie’s costume. “Looking fantastically freaky, there Eddster.”

Janice reached up and touched his curls. “Holy shit, you didn’t cut it! It’s all pinned up to look short. You can’t even tell.”

Eddie grinned, flicking his head back dramatically. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“I would hire the person that did that to do hair for my shop in a fucking heartbeat,” she breathed.

“Shop?” Steve asked, confused.

“Janice has a shop where they do hair and makeup for plays, movies, and TV shows,” Eddie explained. “They do awesome work.”

“Yeah,” Janice said. “My main hair gal got pregnant and is having a really bad one. They put her on bed rest just four months in.”

Eddie winced in sympathy.

“Do you only take female employees or would a guy hairstylist have a chance?” Steve asked shyly.

Janice looked at Eddie and then back to Steve. “You did his hair?”

Steve nodded.

“I would take a three-headed green slime monster if they did hair that good,” she said.

She looked between the two boys. “Eddie, if he works out, I might have owe you a brand new favor.”

Steve’s eyes lit up as Eddie cackled.

“Hell yeah!!”

She shook her head. “Hey, you think it would be okay if I joined you guys tonight? I’ve got a wig and French maid outfit, unless you already have a Magenta?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance.

“Argyle would love that!” Eddie grinned. “He’s our Riff Raff and is indeed missing a Magenta.”

Janice cheered. “Hell yeah, baby! I’ll meet you at the Hawk in a half hour if that’s okay with Steve here?”

Steve nodded. “Nancy and Robin would be thrilled to add another girl to the group.”

Janice smiled. “Great! I’ll see you later!”

Eddie laughed as she practically skipped out of the house lugging that huge kit as though it weighed nothing.

***

Part 2

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve needs a hug #eddie is a sweetheart #rocky horror picture show #halloween costumes

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that-ineffable-devil · 1 year

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Rainbow in the Dark | Chapter 3

Follow on AO3

Author's Note: This is where things get better, then worse for Eddie--but there's a shining light at the end of the tunnel in the form of Wayne Munson and a safe haven in Hawkins. Hawkins may not be perfect, but his father's not there--and that's a damn good start.

WARNING: This chapter gets rough at the end, so I've put the "Read More" break just before the parental violence begins for your ease. The violence is not graphic, but Eddie's disassociation and subsequent injuries/hospitalization suck.

Chapter 3: Flight of Icarus

One sunny afternoon, Eddie found himself in Luke’s dusty garage—the rest of his friends sprawled out across tattered sofas or playing pool on a heavily battered pool table. Luke had gone to run some errands for his mom, but he’d promised to bring back a surprise for them if they waited.

The warm summer air was thick and sticky, and the boys were grateful for the shady reprieve of the open garage. They eagerly chattered about weekend plans, hoping to get out and explore the nearby woods, taking up arms with the wooden weaponry provided by nature to fight the foul beasts in their imaginations. The humidity suggested that Mother Nature had other plans, with distant thunderclouds slowly rolling toward town.

“I think the whole plan is scrapped, man,” one of the boys remarked, staring moodily at the oncoming storm from his spot on the sofa.

“Oh c’mon, it’s just a little water—you afraid to get wet or somethin’?” a red-headed boy remarked, his freckles crinkling into his smirk.

“I ain’t afraid o’ nothin’, asshole,” the moody boy bit back, “I just got these sneakers, is all, and I ain’t plannin’ to ruin ‘em just yet.”

“Sure, sure. Ain’t afraid o’ nothin’…but a little mud.”

“You little…” the moody boy lunged at his antagonist, tackling him to the floor.

They swatted each other a few times, not really intending to harm, before they both fell back laughing along with the rest of the group.

“Stu’s got a point, though, Red,” Eddie said with a shrug, hoping to appear nonchalant. “No point in pissing off the Wardens with muddy clothes an’ shit.”

“You too, Munson? Can’t believe Sir Edward the Bold is defeated by a little dirt! Your dad can’t be all that tough,” Red replied, clucking his tongue.

“You don’t know the Warden, Red,” Eddie breathed quietly.

A sudden whooping shout from somewhere down the driveway distracted them all. Turning toward the sound, they saw Luke walking up with a stack of books, papers, and boxes.

“Luke!” they shouted together, Eddie jumping up and running to help the boy with the items.

Luke and Eddie exchanged warm smiles as they divided the stack. Eddie huffed a bit at the weight; Luke raised a brow in question. Eddie ignored the look and continued carrying his share, pretending he didn’t notice the slight waddle he’d adopted.

The boys set the items down on a makeshift table they’d cobbled together with some milk crates and an old, weathered door. It had seen better days, but it served its purpose well enough.

“What have you geniuses been arguing about while I quested for your benefit?” Luke asked with a smirk as he spun around to face the group, crossing his arms as he did.

“Oh, uh, we were deciding whether to brave the elements to adventure in the woods this weekend, or to postpone the quest until the weather dries up,” Eddie offered eagerly, a grin spreading across his face.

“I see, I see,” said Luke, adopting a serious expression and scratching his chin. “And what did the group decide?”

“Well, see…that’s…” Eddie began, looking down nervously.

“We ain’t decided yet ‘cuz we’re split down the middle—2 against 2. You gotta vote, Luke!” Red shouted at him.

Luke looked about the group pensively, as though reading their opinions through their body language. When Luke’s eyes turned to examine Eddie, the boy hoped he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. If he came home muddy and gross after one of their adventures, his father would be furious. But he also knew that if the group wanted to go, then he’d go with them. When he raised his eyes, Eddie felt a jolt of adrenaline as he realized Luke was still observing him, his expression soft.

“Well,” Luke said, finally. “I may have just the thing. Would y’all like to go on an adventure all from the comfort of this very garage? Snacks and sodas included?”

The entire group eyed Luke as though he’d sprouted another head.

“You mean like…watch TV?” one of them asked.

“No, my dear James, not TV… Have any of you boys heard about… Dungeons and Dragons?” Luke responded, dramatically flourishing to the items behind him as he stepped away from the table.

With a little persuasion and the promise of a full smorgasbord of snacks and sodas, the group agreed to try this strange game played with pens, paper, strange polyhedral dice, and math. The math was the hardest sell—Red was vehemently against doing more school on the weekend—but when Eddie showed him that he could be a dwarf that carried a ridiculously enormous battle-axe, he finally relented.

They held their first game the following Saturday morning, rain pattering loudly against the tin roof. There was a steep learning curve and they didn’t all pick it up right away, though they all eventually found their footing in the game.

For Eddie, though, it was love at first die roll. Sure, the rules were complicated, and you practically needed a college degree to track and calculate all the math. But this was fantasy, storytelling, and imagination in their purest forms. This was the power of creation in the palm of your hands.

And the allure of the escape was strong. For once, he and his group could pretend the awful reality they struggled to survive was nothing but a bad dream, creating their own world and shaping it to their desires. They could be heroes, villains, soldiers for hire, or anything they wanted.

They took turns leading and storytelling as the “Dungeon Master,” but Eddie truly excelled at it. He felt it was like coming home; like he was giving life to every ignored or suppressed piece of his soul.

He dedicated months of his life to learning the rules and the lore. He poured every ounce of his heart and soul into his campaigns. Every story was complex, every puzzle a challenge, and he brought so much life to every NPC (non-player character), that his friends struggled to see the line between the characters and their friend.

Nobody played like Eddie, and his passion brought his friends happily through each adventure with him.

“See, kid, every man’s gotta learn to make a livin’ at some point in his life,” Eddie’s father muttered as he jimmied the door open on the vehicle before him. “Don’t just stare at me, boy, yer s’posed to be the lookout!”

Eddie instinctively dodged the hand that swung towards his head, eyes swiveling back down the dark alleyway to the street. He hoped his father wouldn’t remember. A few metallic clicks later, his father had the door to the shimmering blue ’67 Firebird slightly open, motioning Eddie to come around behind it.

“Now,” he grunted as he worked at the steering column with his screwdriver, “you could go an’ get a job for some asshole who’ll pay you pennies to break yer back…”

He popped cover off the column and dug through the wiring.

“Git the wire stripper outta my jacket pocket, boy,” he grumbled as he separated the battery wires from the others.

Still swapping his attention between his father’s movements and the dark street in the distance, Eddie fumbled around in the jacket pocket until he found the right tool, holding it out for his father, who grabbed it moments later.

“Or you could go inter business fer yerself, like your old man,” he continued from his earlier thought.

“Course, you could always try gettin’ into the drug trade, but unless yer going full organized crime, there ain’t enough money in it to bother. Or you could try just stealin’ car audio an’ shit, but the real money..AH!” his father hissed, shaking his fingers from the shock he’d received.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled, but then continued his work, stripping more wires and twisting them together.

“The real money,” he continued, now connecting the ignition wire to the battery, causing the lights on the dash to flicker on, “is in full auto reclamation and sales. Now pay attention, son, this is the tricky part.”

Eddie looked away from the street to watch his father’s hands. He carefully stripped an end off the starter wire and held it close to the battery wire, before meeting his son’s eyes.

“You know what? It’s almost yer birthday, why don’t you do the honors?” he said with a small grin.

Eddie gulped, but nodded, holding his hands out for the wires. He’d watched his father do this a hundred times, so he knew this was the most dangerous part—short of getting caught, of course. He took a deep breath to steady his hands, then carefully touched the live wires together to generate a spark—the engine roaring to life.

His father gave a soft whoop as he took the wires from Eddie and revved the engine a few times.

“Hop in, kid, we got places to be!” he hissed over the engine.

As Eddie closed the door, his father gave a wolfish howl and shifted gears, carrying them off into the night. Eddie smiled in spite of himself—this was the version of his father he loved most. He felt more alive, more real, more like a father—despite the crime.

As the engine roared down the street, Eddie couldn’t help but join in his father’s howls and laughter. Maybe this year, his birthday wouldn’t be so bad.

A few days later, on Eddie’s thirteenth birthday, his father came home late and in a terrible state. The lines of his brow were creased with an unspoken rage, and his ruddy nose and cheeks coupled with the rank smell of alcohol told him this was a danger night. Eddie responded quickly to harshly barked orders as the Warden slumped to the couch and flipped on the tiny TV in their trailer.

As he worked quietly—but quickly—in the kitchen, the Warden sat in stony silence. Eddie’s neck prickled uncomfortably as the hairs rose. Silence was a bad sign—far more dangerous than when he came in slinging insults—so he kept glancing up from the stove to see if he had moved.

As Eddie slid the grilled cheese from the pan onto a paper plate, he noticed the Warden still hadn’t moved. He wasn’t even sure the man had blinked. As quietly as possible, he set a freshly opened bottle of beer and the hot sandwich in front of him, then quietly backed away.

He held his breath for several seconds, not even blinking as he stared at the Warden, looking for any hint of movement or potential violence. He flinched as the man reached out for the sandwich, but he only brought it to his mouth and took a bite. Eddie nodded to himself, now backing slowly into his room, only releasing his breath once he’d closed the door and heard no movement from the living room.

He was supposed to run a D&D game tonight—the last game of this campaign. He didn’t want to leave the Party hanging and was genuinely worried they may come looking for him if he didn’t show up. The Warden wouldn’t like that. It was dangerous to leave…but it was also dangerous to stay.

After several minutes of agonizing deliberation, Eddie’s heart pulled him toward his bedroom window, despite his anxiety screaming in the back of his mind. He turned his radio on—not too high, but not too low either—and locked the door to his room, then silently slipped through the window and grabbed his bike on his way to meet his adventuring party.

It had been a wild game, filled with twists and turns as his friends valiantly fought every enemy thrown at them. Eddie’s face was evasive, a mysterious but almost impassive smile unfurling from his lips. This was it—the party had arrived to face their final challenge—Death herself. He leaned forward to address the Party.

“As you enter the forsaken cathedral, a shaft of shimmering moonlight pierces the broken stained-glass window to alight on a pale elven woman in flowing midnight robes,” Eddie said in hushed tones, bringing the chatter at the table to rapt silence.

“She turns her head as you approach, a hint of a smile curling across her lips. Her raven curls fall forward as she bows deeply, then lifts her face with a dazzling smile…”

“Holy shit, Eddie…is that…is she?” Luke stammered.

Eddie’s grin widened, giving an almost imperceptible nod.

“Her once violet eyes now resemble the night sky—pitch black but strewn and sparkling with stars and supernovas exploding within them. ‘I have been awaiting you, my friends,’ she says, her musical voice soft in the reverent hush of the cathedral.”

“L…Leti?” one of the other boys asked timidly.

Eddie’s grin transformed into a smirk, eyes darkening as he tilted his head down.

“’Hello again, Lord Brighton,’ Letifer purrs, slowly rising from her bow, her smile faltering for but a moment. ‘I am…truly sorry for the deception, there was no other way.’”

“No other way for what, Leti?” Luke’s character, Sir Thanas, asked grimly.

“At Sir Thanas’ words, Letifer curls her arms inward, almost hugging herself before flinging them wide, shadows stretching rapidly from her torso. The shadows rush toward you, hunger evident in their movements. Roll for initiative, fuckers,” Eddie finished with a grin, commencing the battle to end all battles.

It was a long, exhausting fight—the entire party fought bravely, losing two members during the battle. In the end, it was Sir Thanas and Letifer left to clash in the center of the cathedral—the remaining two party members too exhausted to fight on.

Though he drew the battle out longer than necessary, Eddie had always planned for the party to win—he just wanted them to feel the triumph of the victory. So, when Sir Thanas thrust his flaming blade into Letifer’s torso, he didn’t use any of her remaining abilities to weasel out of it. They had earned the win.

Or had they?

“As the flames from your enchanted blade begin to spread from its place in her torso, her now-again violet eyes rise to meet yours, Sir Thanas, a small, sorrowful smile flickering across her lips, even as black blood seeps from the corners of her mouth” narrated Eddie, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of his friend’s garage.

“’Thank you…my friend…I was so very, very tired’ she sighs peacefully as she begins to slump over your blade. As the last breath leaves her, her body dissolves into a billion shade-black moths that envelope you, Thanas. The remaining members of your party watch in awe as the moths glow bright as moonlight, then fade to the purest white. As they take wing, you feel a sudden, gripping chill, as though falling through the ice of a frozen lake,” Eddie continued, his eyes locked onto Luke’s face, trying to read every movement, every expression.

“I…I look down—does anything look different?” Luke’s voice was cracked and dry, his soda long forgotten.

Eddie’s grin returned—this was everything he wanted—then he nodded knowingly.

“You look down at yourself to discover your golden plate armor has been replaced with black leather and a dark hooded cloak. Your hands are pale, as though blood no longer warms them, and in your right hand, where once there had been a red-flamed sword, a wicked, ebony scythe etched with silvery runes glitters coldly in the surrounding torchlight. You have successfully defeated Death, and thus accepted the mantle yourself.”

The immediate silence was deafening as his friends shared shocked expressions, eyes wide and mouths open. Then, without warning, they erupted into excited shouts, shaking Luke by his shoulders while he laughed incredulously. Riding the high of their joy, Eddie wrapped up the remaining plot threads, leaving just enough unwoven to allow room for a new, but related campaign.

“Eddie, that was your best yet, man, amazing!”

“I can’t believe Leti was Death! Did you plan that from the beginning?”

“And like, dude, of course you can’t just kill Death, there’s gotta be balance or whatever, but still…I never saw it coming!”

“You’re brilliant, you know,” Luke said in Eddie’s ear, his voice reverberating through his brain and giving him goosebumps.

Yeah, this was worth any cost he’d have to pay his father.

His father.

Eddie glanced at his watch, fear pooling in his stomach. His face fell, eyes clouding with terror—how was it already one in the morning? He needed to get home…now. No, he needed to already be there—to have never left.

Hoping his father was deep in a whiskey-induced slumber, Eddie schooled his face into his best, mysteriously smug smile, bowing deeply to the party members and clearing his throat loudly. Luke eyed Eddie, his brows knitted with concern. He’d been friends with Eddie long enough to notice when the boy shifted into a different character.

“And now, my dear adventurers, I’m afraid your master must fly back to his tower to ponder his crystal ball and consider your futures. May you enjoy the fruits of your labor, and may your deceased friends find the afterlife they so bravely fought for. See you at school tomorrow!” he announced brightly before fleeing the scene as calmly as he could.

If anyone said anything as he left, the roaring rush of blood in Eddie’s ears prevented him from hearing it. He didn’t even notice when Luke started to follow him out of the garage.

“Please be asleep, please be asleep and unaware,” he muttered to himself as he climbed onto his bike and began to pedal like his life depended on it—because it very well might.

As he snuck quietly back to his window, he considered the risk he’d taken. Though his gut twisted in fear of what may await inside the trailer, the high of his friends’ praise and a successful campaign left him feeling that the risk had been worth it. He’d never had the Party so invested in a game, nor so surprised by his twists. He glanced furtively around his room while climbing quietly back through his window.

Feeling the same icy chill he’d described for Sir Thanas, his heart dropped with an almost audible “plunk” to the bottom of his stomach at what greeted him. His bedroom door was gone, replaced by a rectangular hole ringed in splintered wood. In the doorway, the Warden sat in one of their deep crimson fold-out chairs, a sledgehammer leaning frighteningly against his thigh.

There was a seething silence as Eddie hesitated, halfway through the window, thinking he seriously miscalculated this risk. The Warden appeared calm, but Eddie swore he could see a red, murderous glint in his eyes. And the sledgehammer sat far too close to the Warden’s hands for his comfort.

Before he could decide which direction to tilt, the Warden’s lips twisted into a ghastly grimace and he launched himself at Eddie, dragging him roughly through the window. Though he wouldn’t remember the pain, he would remember the sound of the window breaking against his leg.

At some point during the Warden’s retribution, Eddie felt as though he’d left his body. From above, he watched the grisly scene below him with a detached and morbid curiosity. He wondered idly if anyone else knew what was happening, or if they even cared.

As his consciousness faded, he imagined Letifer’s welcoming smile, arms open as if to embrace him. Distant sirens wailed, and he collapsed into her arms, exhausted, before the world faded to black.

Eddie’s eyes blinked and watered painfully at the bright lights around him. If this is death, why does it fucking hurt so much, his mind demanded. He tried to look around himself, to figure out where he was, but his body was immobilized. With rising panic, he flicked his eyes in every direction, trying to find any information.

As he adjusted to the brightness, he saw long wires and tubes above him—no wait, were they connected to him? Various bags of liquids hung from a silver pole on his right, each ending in a tube that reached toward him like Leti’s shadows.

His whole body ached and burned, and despite his panic, exhaustion was taking over. He blearily gazed down toward his arms and legs, finding he had casts on each leg from toes to thighs—and while he couldn’t fully see his arms, what he did see looked blue and purple and swollen.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and a dull ache in his side and chest became a white-hot lance of pain, as though someone had shoved a dagger between his ribs and was scraping the back of his shoulder blade. When he tried to cry out in pain, his scratchy throat could only produce a painfully raspy puff of air—no louder than a whisper. He shut his eyes, trying desperately to prevent the involuntary tears from escaping. He tried to focus on something…anything else but his body.

Though his ears rang deafeningly, it did not mask the barely muffled shouting from men outside the room’s door. He tried to make out the words, or at least identify the voices, but the effort made his head ache and his eyes water even more, and he soon slipped into unconscious again. When he next awoke, he was surprised to see his Uncle Wayne was asleep in a chair by his bedside, holding his hand.

Eddie didn’t see or speak to his father again after that. Once he’d been released from the hospital, Wayne took Eddie home with him, and that was that.

Post Notes: Our boy is finally escaping to Hawkins where things are sure to get better, right? Right? And all the blessings on our dear Wayne.

If you've been following the story, this is likely the last time we'll see or hear of Luke and Eddie's old party, so don't get too attached.

Chapter 4 Preview: Steve doesn't know it yet, but Tommy is pissed to discover Steve has been skipping lunches with him to spend time with Jonathan Byers--of all people. But Hagans don't get mad, no, Hagans get even--and that's exactly what he's going to do. Mr. Harrington would surely want to know what kind of company his son keeps, after all.

Thank you to all readers who have made it this far! Likes, comments, and shares are deeply appreciated! I, like Steve, am heavily motivated by praise.

Credits

Bat dividers courtesy of StrayWords.

Fic title courtesy of Rainbow in the Dark by Dio.

Chapter title courtesy of Flight of Icarus by Iron Maiden.

#eddie munson #wayne munson #uncle wayne #future steddie #childhood trauma #stranger things #eddie munson backstory #abuse cw #fic: rainbow in the dark #gay eddie munson #eddie needs a hug #eddie stranger things #just let him play d&d and be happy #why am i like this #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3

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