#eddie dear my beloved <3

[indecisive-dizzy]

If you want to, feel free to share some Eddie and Latter ideas

I love them, they’re so lovely :3

Oh,, I have So Many,,, This is gonna be Long

Met at Howdy's birthday party (his parents, Latter, and Seeya came to visit)

They hit it off great and became pen pals! I've mentioned it before but Latter sends Eddie poems and Eddie send him paper crafts <3

They boost each other's self-esteem! They're both underappreciated and ignored and they cheer each other up

Eddie does genuinely enjoy Latter's poetry. Does he get it? Not completely, but he knows Latter is proud of his work!

Big literature and theatre nerds. I specifically believe they've had at least one Long Indepth conversation about Frankenstein.

Similarly! Theatre kids. Eddie was mostly in the costume and set/prop department while Latter thrived in the Drama on stage

Latter tells Eddie family gossip, and Eddie brings it up when he delivers to Howdy. "How's So and so? Latter said-" You get it. Howdy Is upset lol but cant do anything bc he tells Barnaby the same gossip.

Ship Stuff <3

Latter fell first, Eddie is irresistible <3 He writes not so subtle love poems

Oh man the cuddles. I've also mentioned this before but I'm bringing it up again. Eddie's usually the one Holding in a cuddle, ya know? He's the big spoon. But Latter is like twice his size, with 3x the arms and Wings.

Eddie gets to little spoon and be held/carried and he is flabbergasted but loving every second. Latter can lift him quite easily and That's Definitely New to Eddie. He doesn't know what to do with himself when Latter carries him.

Latter adores holding Eddie, and is greatly amused when he gets flustered.

Side hc to go w/ above! I hc Latter is pathetic in public but is actually very chill when not seeking the approval the others. Like at home he's just vibing! He's still not the most confident butterfly, but he has his moments! He's a Pillar after all and one of many family traits is Confidence.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

fuck it. Take This And Run

[indigopoptart]

gonna get back into the swing of things with!! some faces I did a bit ago!!!

+ closeups and oc creds under the cut!

the welcome home guys ofc <3

some of my guys!

(Niebla belongs to both me and @akemima ! <3)

-

And now, some friends’ ocs!

Lady belongs to @gremliinsart, Keira belongs to @funonion001 !!! :3

Sundown belongs to @carnivalcarrion !! <3

Damon belongs to @sammysun , Wizard belongs to @akemima !! :33 <3<3

[strange0-0storm]

I love Frank and Eddie so much LIKE OMFG THEY ARE SO BELOVED

[justcallmedoodles]

Hi hi everyone!! I’m back!!

I return with a gift of art! Welcome home art to be specific-

I love all of the characters very much, but Eddie Dear has stolen my heart💌✨

So, I’ve drawn art of him!! The silly, sweet, lovable, country boy!!💖

He means so much to me, seriously! I relate a lot to him..

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the art, lovelies!!

[the-night-show-host]

My head cannon is that Eddie totally loves tiny animals, anytime he sees them he absolutely melts and goes to look at them. He may have accidentally slowed down a mail run or 2 and this why lol

[thedeadthree]

IN OTHER NEWS IT IS ALMOST THE DAY OF EDDIES BIRTHDAY 🕰🤎🤎🌲🦉😖

[atouuu]

I just had a three hour long conversation with Eddie dear on character ai about my oc lore and I'm kicking my feet in excitement

[spiralingsights]

for the kissed meme: wally + KISS & eddie + KISS!!!! :3c

[ OUGH, KISSES FOR THE BOYS 🥺 ]

[ For Wally: 3, morning/wake up call kiss ]

[ For Eddie: 41, kiss on a scar/wound ]

[ Prompt List ]

[ Pairing(s): Wally Darling, Evolet Evergreen (1) // Eddie Dear, Laurel Evergreen (2) ]

[ Warnings: Laurel gets injured and bleeds real blood, but that's it ]

(1)

Evolet had only recently started doing these little "sleepovers" with Wally.

They had been dating for about a month now, but there had been a wait because Evolet did not get on with Home. Anyone could tell he was afraid of the sentient house, especially since he wore his heart on his sleeve.

And then, Laurel decided to spend a night with Eddie, and the perfect opportunity arose.

It was a cute little date night. They spent most of it watching movies, and then got distracted and just started talking. It was easy for them to that -- it starts with a conversation about Evolet's new story, and then it leads into just about any topic their neurodivergency can latch onto.

Eventually, it came time to go to bed. There had been a moment of consideration, and then Evolet decided that fuck it, they could just sleep in the same bed. There was no harm in it.

Wally, as expected, was flustered at the idea, but Evolet managed to win him over.

And it was one of the best damn sleeps the guy had had in months. Maybe that was the cure to his paranoia -- someone to sleep with.

He didn't want to wake up when the sunlight began to pour in through the curtains over his window, and his soft groan made that perfectly clear.

But he could be bribed.

"Good morning, doll," he heard Wally say. He grumbled in reply, wanting to sleep in for once. "Oh, don't be like that~"

Wally leaned over, pressing a first and tentative kiss to Evolet's jaw. When the author didn't pull away, he continued, trailing more kisses along his jaw and cheek.

And then, finally, Evolet rolled onto his back and Wally kissed him on the lips. It lingered for a moment, before Wally pulled back, and cheerful smile on his face.

"..... Fine. But you have to go on my morning jog with me."

"Deal~!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(2)

Laurel was staring down at his knee.

He had never worn kneepads while skating, because he had never needed to. He'd never fallen. He wasn't supposed to fall. And he definitely wasn't supposed to scrape his knee.

Red blood seeped out of his green screen from where they wound was, and he couldn't help but just stare.

"Laurel?"

He looked up at the sound of a familiar voice, finding Eddie standing in front of him, a look of concern on his face.

More staring. And then he spoke. "Hi, Eddie. Sorry if I'm in your way," he said, reaching his hands up and letting the mailman help him to his feet. He kept his injured knee bent, so he wouldn't make it worse.

"What happened?" Eddie asked, not letting go of his arms just yet. "Are you okay? Did you fall? This is why you should wear kneepads."

He was about to start rambling. Laurel cut him off.

"I'm fine, pumpkin," he quickly replied. "It's just a scraped knee. Easy enough to handle."

Eddie didn't look convinced. There was quiet, and then Eddie suddenly scooped Laurel into his arms, making the man yelp in surprise. "Let's go get it cleaned up then."

Wow. What a perfect being. Big, dumb, and so caring.

Eddie carried Laurel to the post office, setting him down on the counter once inside. It was genuinely surprising that Eddie managed to find a first aid kit but hey, there it was.

"You've gotta be more careful, darlin'," Eddie said as he cleaned the wound with an alcohol wipe, tossing it in the trash when he was done. Then he put one of those square band-aids on it -- it was a colourful one too.

Then he surprised Laurel even further by leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his knee.

Laurel felt his face flush, but he smiled when Eddie looked back up at him.

"Anything for you, pumpkin."

[infinite-orangepeel]

bitchy steve <3 my beloved (a steddie blurb)

eddie used to get jealous when other people would flirt with steve. he’d watch from afar, gear up to throw a punch, and step in to protect his boy’s honor.

but eventually he learned to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. bc steve harrington kept proving time and again that he could hold his own. and more importantly that he’s a beautiful evil little bitch and will literally get himself into a fight with anyone who dares not realize he already has a boyfriend and continues to flirt with him.

and dear god he’s so incredibly obnoxious about it….

exhibit a

steve: what do you mean you assumed i was single ???? i’m literally wearing MY BOYFRIEND’S leather jacket right now. are you kidding me ?????

exhibit b

steve: oh you think i’m cute ?? that’s sweet. you know who else thinks i’m cute—MY BOYFRIEND. he’s picking me up from work in five minutes so i suggest you make yourself scarce.

exhibit c

steve: no, no, no. i’m TAKEN. that’s my BOYFRIEND and we are IN LOVE. and if for some reason you still don’t understand, my BOYFRIEND is a tattoo artist and will happily spell it out for you on your forehead.

exhibit d

steve: my BOYFRIEND and i have six kids together. you really think i’d want you to raise them with me ??? they already have a father. thanks.

[figthefruitfaeth]

108 "is that my shirt?" with the pairing of your choice please zoey <3

my dear beloved lou—i love this prompt so much, thank you <3 please know i listened to moon river by frank ocean for the entirety of its creation. I hope you like it

steddie | pre-slash/confession (kinda) | 868 words

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

Blue. That's what it feels like. Spring fresh cornflowers in his lungs, the edges of an inky indigo sky staining his fingertips. Blue is the breath he takes, the old ceramic bowl of cereal he's got clutched to his chest, the veins under his skin. 

It's the color of Steve's shirt.

Eddie shifts—presses his back fully against the window frame, the cold seeping through the thin cotton a welcome relief from the heat of the day. He keeps his head titled out towards the street, but his eyes are focused in.

Steve is on the opposite end of the window, head resting against the glass, his own bowl of cereal balanced carefully on both knees. Eddie watches the last of the day curling into his collarbone, the tips of his bangs. His chest moving in slow and easy breaths, eyes just slivers of hazel in the light. A sleepy cat, perfectly content.

Yet despite the quiet peace of the moment, Eddie feels it. Has felt it all day. Something sticking, unsettled in himself. Sleep in the corner of his eyes, the dry coarse grind of sand in his back molars. He's blamed it on the weed, paranoia lurking in the silence between the hum and ding of the microwaved nachos they'd made earlier—his mind trying to makeup for a body that had, for once, slowed down. 

But that didn't stop himself from feeling it, from knowing something is off—no, Eddie shakes his head—different.

Something is different about Steve.

Steve, very carefully, spoons a mouthful of mushy multi-grain into his mouth. Grimaces, then does it again. A drop of milk lands on his shirt, seeping into fabric quicker than it landed. A spot of midnight in a sea of navy.

His shirt is blue. Which, all things considered, isn't different at all. Though he tends to favor the warmer side of the wheel chart, Steve's wardrobe is a rainbow of colors. From steel blue jackets to violet sweaters, Eddie's seen him in it all.

Mouth closed, his tongue runs along his teeth, twists against the edges of the back. Can't quite reach the end. 

A dark blue t-shirt. A little big, not swallowed in fabric but less form fitting than most of his clothes. Old, maybe  second or even third hand if the edges of the sleeves are anything to go by. Or the image splashed on the chest, which is really only a memory of a design—speckled silver to grey in uneven patches. There's still one letter legible, a sharp 't' dead in the middle. 

It looks a bit like a band t-shirt, reminds Eddie of the shirts Wayne gave him when he first moved in, before they could go the Salvation Army together. Smoke and oil clinging to the threads, a reference to a song he'd only heard once on the radio, but stuck. Settled the buzz in his head, let his body move and mean something more than disappointment. Staring in the mirror, hair barely more than a buzzcut, navy stark against his pale skin—

”Is that my shirt?”

His voice is too loud, accidentally overshot by both the shock and last half hour of silence. Steve doesn't seem to be as affected, turning his head against the glass to face Eddie with a smooth nonchalance.

“Yeah,“ he says. Eddie looks at him, brows raised. Steve looks back, bloodshot eyes blinking slowly, seemingly feeling a one word explanation is all he needs.

Eddie searches for something, anything to say, ends up with a choked cough, and then, “Why?” Which—stupid, stupid, stupid.

Glacial blue, Steve looks down at his (his or his? theirs?) shirt, then back up at Eddie.

“Must've gotten it mixed up.”

Must've gotten it mixed up.

What.

Eddie blinks. Feels a bit like a dog as he shakes his head, mouth opening and then closing up tight in quick succession. There's no way Steve Harrington mixed up his clothes. The man spends 30 minutes a night picking out his outfit for the next day. He missed a group movie cause he couldn't find the right jacket. He almost had a conniption when Dustin tried to wash his colors with his whites. 

Steve always wears the gold and red striped socks when he needs a bit of luck and never just throws something on. Steve doesn't ‘mix up’ clothes, not unless he's dying, not unless it means something—

Oh.

“Oh,” he says out loud, dumbly.

Steve smiles like their afternoon—a hazy, sticky sweet honey in his hands.

“Yeah.”

And then Steve winks, and turns back to the window.

Eddie bites his lip, feels his mouth tearing away into a smile anyway. Turns back to the outside before he does something crazy, shovels in another spoonful of nearly disintegrated cereal, watches night settle in. Lights from other, distant homes click on, warm yellow windows bobbing along in the pitch black darkness. 

In the morning, when the sky lives up to its infamous hue, and the weed has left them their usual jittery, overthinking selves—Eddie will ask him other questions, will need more replies filled with complex, compound sentences.

Eddie takes a deep breath.

Navy.

And for now, that's enough.

writing prompts!

[indecisive-dizzy]

Hi I’m having so many Latter/Eddie ideas im in love with them they are beloveds

I can totally see Latter having a crush on Eddie from the get go. He took one look at that beautiful southern mailman and fell in love

The idea of Eddie dating Latter while being Howdy’s ex makes me laugh so hard, especially if howdy gets bitter about it

I could totally see Eddie being sweet to Latter and Howdy complaining to Seeya about it. He pulls out the “I was bisexual first!” argument /hj

Latter writes poems about Eddie but keeps them to himself. Hes too embarrassed to share them

Ironically they’re actually some of his better work

Latter/Eddie/Frank is now something I need more people to love too because I do

They do little smooches. Like, they’re both so nervous they can barely kiss without herring all flustered and shy

Hugs, they hug a lot :)

Latter wraps his wings around Eddie EHEN they hug, but he never mentions it

They write letters to each other all the time, they love writing about the other

They go on walks together, its calm and they don’t have to deal with neighbors/family members that treat them poorly

They move in together /hj

I need them to get married

sniff theyre soooo <333

Took one look and fell in love you say? Of course he did who wouldn't! fr tho Latter had One Positive Interaction with Eddie (Eddie waved at him) and he was head over heels.

Damn Eddie I thought you were afraid of bugs- sjfhjdsgbjsghjds. Howdy is SO bitter. Especially because Latter and Eddie have a better relationship than his and Eddie's. Also bc Latter does Not shut up about him. He's throwing Eddie themed poetry left right and center and Howdy is this close to putting up a "No Latter" sign at the shop.

Latter's better poetry being his love poems to Eddie is so sweet. His best work comes straight (Ha!) from the heart <3

Idk how Frank and Latter would get along,,, I think Frank would enjoy some poetry but he may only tolerate Latter's extensive poetics for Eddie,,,, Hmmm

Call those Butterfly Kisses. jsfjsf they're so cute hhh just little pecks here n there but its got them both all flustered.

You got a mailman who is on his way to a Best Hugger Award and a Giant Butterfly with Six Arms. Those are some damn good hugs! And I am a sucker for "wrapping wings around partner"

ah writing letters, Eddie's personal favorite love language that he introduced Latter to. Eddie gets normal letters that also have poems attached. Eddie send him paper crafts with his letters.

Going on walks is nice! What if they held hands !

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @kkpwnall! They have eight Stranger Things and Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!

An anonymous nominator recommends the following works by kkpwnall:

driving in your car

love is like ghosts

where's the spark?

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

wanted: pool boy at the vampire mansion

KK's works have a consistent feel of genuine, heartfelt, human connection. Whether it’s a big, dramatic scene as the climax of a slow, delicious build-up of tension, or a mundane, slice-of-life tidbit, the characters always feel true to themselves, and their voices are perfectly nailed each and every time. And by that I mean, you can literally hear the dialogues in the characters’ voices—they’re THAT good. KK explores classic Steddie themes in their longfic Driving In Your Car, and they have a handful of wonderful one-shots and two-shots, each and every one of them delving into how much these boys love each other for who they are. In short, KK’s body of work feels like a love letter of the characters. If you love Steve and Eddie, chances are you’ll love their fics. - anonymous

Below the cut, @kkpwnall answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie? 

They’re such a compelling and complementary pairing. Like, it seems like an opposites attract / odd-couple pairing on the surface, but beneath each of their exteriors, they’re so similar. They’re dork4dork, loser4loser, idiot4idiot, they’re both huge nerds but in different ways. They want and need and express affection through physical touch and words of affirmation (I mean, just look at the walking through the forest scene!) Plus they just have this insane chemistry that any time I think “there’s no way they did that, it’s all in my head”, I’ll go back and watch those scenes again, it’s just like “no, this absolutely checks out, they are so into each other from the word go”. And they’re just made for each other! I mean, come on! Matching scars? Nail bat and nail shield? Jock and nerd? They’re two halves of the same coin! What I really love about them too is that they’re both Just Some Guy, they’re silly, goofy, dorky guys! But mostly, I write steddie because it makes me happy and really satisfies part of my brain like nothing else. 

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Other than “Eddie Munson Lives” hahah, I’ll try just about anything written or recommended by a beloved mutual. Mutual pining, fix-it’s, missing scenes, and first kiss fics are top tier for me, and right now I’m really partial to fluffy romcom fics. If it’s got good flirting and banter, it’s got me hooked.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

My absolute favorite to write is mutual pining (aka the love is requited, they’re both just being stupid). Miscommunication is a close second, the kind that can’t easily be resolved with just a sticky note on the fridge. Whether it’s mishearing something or misunderstanding something (even the character misunderstanding their own feelings!), I find it super compelling to write. But for a specific scenario, my favorite will always be Steve having a bad time at a party.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

It’s impossible for me to pick just one, so I have to recommend 3 of my friends: Anyway It’s About Old Friends by @fragilecapric0rnn, and wanna be the only one for miles and miles (except for maybe you) by @judasofsuburbia, and everybody else (everybody else looks like they’ve figured it out) by @heybluechild. Anything by these fine folks is just fantastic, they’re all incredible writers and dear friends!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’d really like to write more AU’s! I’ve been tossing around ideas for college-aged+ aus (writing them a little older), 90s aus, a cowboy au… Mostly I’m just excited to keep writing them!

What is your writing process like?

Ahah it’s not much of a process. I write down every idea I have, no matter how small it is. Sometimes it’s a line of dialogue or a moment of a scene, but it all goes into the notes app and percolates in the back of my brain for a while. Eventually that dialogue or scene might coalesce into something bigger on its own, or combine with other snippets, and then ya got yourself a stew!

Do you have any writing quirks?

I really love writing dialogue, it’s my favorite way to get inside their heads, especially trying to balance what they say or don’t say, vs what they actually mean. I also love adding little details to fill out the world and the scene. It might not be necessary, but it feels like it brings everything together for me. And I like treating writing a fic like building a puzzle, trying to figure out just the right way to get all the pieces to fit together so the whole thing really sings.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’m still playing around with what I prefer. With driving in your car, I started out by posting a chapter only when the following chapter was completely written, so I’d always have one in the tank. But that got to feel too much like I was just sitting on chapters for the sake of sitting on them, so I started posting each chapter as I finished it and felt good about it. I don’t do super well with a schedule for posting fics, I’ve got too many deadlines in my life as it is haha.

Which fic are you most proud of?

driving in your car, for sure. It’s my baby, my magnum opus, my kitchen sink fic (it’s got everything). It’s got so much of myself in it, it’s very personal, and very near and dear to my heart.

How did you get the idea for driving in your car?

I wrote a long post about this when the idea was just starting to percolate, but the long and short of it is I wanted to read more fics that reflected my own experiences as an older teen growing up in a suffocating small town, where really the only option you have is to just pile in the car with your friends and drive around aimlessly, because that’s the only way you can get any freedom or privacy. I wanted to see what life was like for the fruity four trying to get back to “normal” while also trying to deal with the fact the world almost ended AGAIN, and all their complicated messy feelings for one another.

What inspired love is like ghosts?

Like many people have guessed / suspected, it’s very much inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved / Watcher Ghost Files, and a loving homage to ghost hunting shows. I’m a huge scaredy cat when it comes to anything horror, but I love a good ghost hunting show. The study room setting is also inspired by the miniscule closet-sized study rooms in the library at the college I went to.

What was your favorite part to write from love is like ghosts?

Parts of their make out scene was the first snippet I wrote and the one that really got the whole ball rolling with that fic, to try to figure out who this Steve and this Eddie are, and what would have to happen lead them to making out that hard in the study room. It was also the first steamy spicy almost-smutty scene I’d written, and it was so fun to learn how to write like that!! I also just love their banter in this fic, they’re both so sassy and ridiculous and completely gone on each other.

How do/did you feel writing where’s the spark??

Ooft this one was a doozy. This is actually the second draft, and the only time so far I’ve all but completely scraped the first draft and rewritten a fic. The first draft leaned really heavily into the loneliness of the holidays, my playlist for it was all of the most maudlin holiday songs, and it really started negatively affecting my mood and mindset. But I got some really great advice and help brainstorming from dear friends, and turned it around into a fic I’m really happy with. The holiday blues are still present, but there’s so much more love there now, and that’s really what the fic is all about.

What was the most difficult part of writing where’s the spark??

Finding that balance of holiday blues and love was really tricky, and I wrote for a lot of characters I hadn’t tried writing before either. From a technical perspective too, it was a big challenge to figure out how to keep the fic moving, and the party moving around Steve when all he wanted to do was wallow.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It’s so so hard to pick just one, but I love how this line in love is like ghosts turned out: And Steve is dumbstruck, kiss-drunk, half-fucked.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a holiday exchange fic coming out soon (hopefully before the holidays, fingers crossed), and I’m excited to dive into my prompt for lex’s winter fic challenge soon! I’d love to get the last chapter of driving in your car ready to share by the end of January. And there’s a secret [redacted] au I’m co-authoring with a very special friend that I would absolutely love to write in the new year!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just that I love this community so much. I’ve made so many incredible friendships because of this show, and I’m so grateful to be a part of this little corner of the internet. I never shared my writing publicly before finding the steddie community, and I’ve been really overwhelmed and delighted by the response to my writing and art (especially to be nominated to do something like this!! Truly an honor!). I was, at best, a casual Stranger Things fan before season 4. I wasn’t even going to watch it when it came out. But then I saw all the gorgeous fanart and gifs, and started reading headcanons, and had to check it out. I’m so so glad that I did, my life has changed so much for the better.

Thank you to our author, @kkpwnall, and our nominator! See more of @kkpwnall's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[i-ate-your-dog-srry]

I'm bored so here are some Canon welcome home facts because I need to talk about them so badly WHARG

● eddie and frank are the only confirmed love interests and official art of eddie and frank holding hands with rings on exists. But the lore of welcome home and the fact that it's a show from a rather unforgiving time for qweer people in general is most likely the reason we don't see their relationship acting out more

●all of our beloved neighbors favorite colors put together makes the rainbow!

(Well excluding home)

●technically, eddie was MADE for Frank, of course that's not simply the only reason eddie was made, I'm sure, but lots of the reason clown made eddie was to be a love interest for frank even scrapping sunny songbird (Frank's original love interest/a now scraped character)

●sally and poppy like to talk over tea and are unconfirmed best friends with clown only hinting at this for the most part

●wally eats his spaghetti one strand at a time even though he isn't fond of eating. He would much rather hold the cup/bowl/plate until it was cold and then give it to barnaby to eat

●in the beta stage eddies last name was going to "pepper" and instead Julie's last name was going to be "dear" so instead of eddie pepper and Julie dear it's now officially eddie dear and Julie joyful!

●eddie new how to play the violin!! And his favorite song was "Rocking Robin" my Michael jackson he would tend to sing/hum it as he delivered mail

●eddie sleeps in a Murphy bed in the back of his shop (a bed that folds out of the wall for those who had no idea what a Murphy bed was much like me)

Now here is some old beta art that clown made (NOT MEH ART)

Sorry if I got something wrong. If I did, please correct me, but I'm pretty sure I got everything right. I dunno :3

[flowercrowngods]

I saw you're taking prompts and tagged it as Clarkson so ngl i immediately went feral bc i love your writing so much!!! Anything clarkson would make me sooo happy, but i especially love the way you write more introspective scenes so maybe something with soft vibes, maybe some hurt/comfort or healing from past trauma together? (I hope that's not too vague, if you were looking for actual scene prompts I'd be happy to come up with something more specific) i hope you'l have a good weekend ❤️❤️

thank you so much for the prompt darling! here’s some clarkson hurt/comfort for you with just a dash of steddie because i particularly love these four together 🥰🤍 this kinda ran away from me and it’s probably all over the place

in which wayne has a flashback nightmare and scott calls eddie and steve for help

🤍 also on ao3

It’s a whimper that wakes Scott, and it takes him a moment to realise where he is — but the dark shadow of Wayne sitting up in bed beside him reassures him for a moment. A dream, surely. His dream woke him, even though he doesn’t remember anything.

But then there’s another whimper, followed by what can only be described as a sniffle. It breaks something inside Scott even before he realises what’s happening. As his eyes adjust to the dark, he makes out Wayne’s form where he’s hunched over, the blanket still around him like a protective shield, his face hidden in his hands. His breathing is unsteady, more like little gasps, suppressed in the pale shadow of a breathing exercise.

He’s never seen Wayne like this. He gets nightmares quite frequently, but he usually gets up for some fresh air and a cigarette, maybe a coffee if he decides to give up on the night. But never before has Scott witnessed him in such a state that screams of heartache and badly suppressed panic.

It’s a lonely vision that tears apart his insides, and it’s what makes him reach out before he can think better of it. Wayne flinches away from him and gasps as another wave of years seems to come over him.

“You’re safe,” is the first thing Scott says, the first thing that comes to mind, the first thing Wayne needs him to say sometimes.

Tonight, though, it only elicits another whimper.

“What do you need?“ he whispers. Not What’s wrong? Not Talk to me.

It takes Wayne a few attempts and Scott watches, panic threatening to rise inside him and join Wayne if only so he won’t have to be alone — as little sense as that makes. The last thing Wayne needs right now is a frantic Scott. So he breathes. Watches as Wayne struggles through his words and the lump in his throat.

“Eddie,” he gasps eventually. “Ed, tell me… Where’s Eddie? I should have— He didn’t do it. He didn’t kill the girl. I should have been there, I should have… I’m sorry, Ed.”

It tears Scott apart to see him like this, lost and stuck somewhere between the nightmare in his head and the nightmares of the past, and there’s nothing Scott can do about it. He remembers it well, though he has the privilege of being oblivious to everything, the privilege of no nightmares, the privilege of staying present and alert when a light flickers or a police car drives past.

“He’s okay, Wayne. It was a nightmare, my dear. Eddie is fine. Your nephew is at Steve’s. Steve Harrington. It’s been a year, Wayne, beloved. It’s been a year, he is doing great. Come back to me, darling. It’s fine, there’s no nightmare here, just me. Just me, Wayne. It’s safe, everyone’s safe. I promise.”

Another whimper and then Wayne hunches over even more. Helplessness spreads inside Scott, feeling like surely this is his nightmare now. Grief and guilt and panic and sadness are coming off Wayne in waves, and it chokes him up. He’s not good at this, placating people, talking them down. He never quite knows what to say, what to do, what to make with his voice.

An idea comes to him then, and he hopes that the boys will forgive him for calling at… 3:28 a.m.

He gets out of bed and whispers, “Don’t leave again, my love, I’ll be right back. It’s safe, I promise, it’s safe.”

Wayne doesn’t react and Scott has to physically keep himself from reaching for him again. His pulse is quicker than it should be, his thoughts are racing, and he really is beginning to be quite frantic. Taking a deep breath, he goes out into the living are, making sure to leave the door open so Wayne can hear him — and so he can hear him.

“Steve here,” comes a very familiar voice through the phone after just one ring, and Scott breathes a sigh of relief.

“Steve, it’s Scott. I’m terrible sorry to wake you, but—“

“You didn’t, we’re awake. What’s wrong?”

Scott closes his eyes and wills his heart to calm down. Everything’s going to be fine. “It’s Wayne, he’s… He had a nightmare, I think. About Eddie. Thinks it’s ‘86 again and Eddie is missing, presumed dead, and I can’t get him… I can’t get through to him.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end and then there’s another voice talking to him. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes, Mr Clarke.”

“Ten.” That’s Steve in the background.

“Ten minutes,” Eddie amends, and Scott kind of wants to cry. It doesn’t make sense. But neither does anything that happened to these people, so he’ll cut himself some slack. “Do you… Can you, uh, can you put on some music? Quiet, just to, uh, to bring him back? There’s this tape, Aftermath by the Stones. Rolling Stones. It’s black with blue writing and all their faces, it should be there somewhere. We used to listen to it every night after… everything. It should be enough until we’re there, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, already looking around for a black tape. “Yeah, I’ll find it. Thanks, boys, I don’t— I didn’t know what to do.”

More shuffling, then Steve is back again. “You did right, calling us. We’ll be there. Oh, and can you make coffee?”

He frowns. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for him to—“

“Oh, the coffee is for us. It’s gonna be a long night. Already has been.” He sounds weary and tired and Scott has to remind himself that the boy is only twenty and shouldn’t sound like that.

“Alright, coffee coming right up.”

“Thanks. We’ll, uh, we’ll leave now.” Steve says, sounding rushed. “Eddie, babe, I’m gonna need you to be calm, okay? Everyone’s safe, it’s gonna be fi—“

And then the line dies. Scott takes a second to listen to the incessant peep of the dial tone, gathering himself, before going on the mission of finding the tape and making coffee before returning into the bedroom just to be there even though he feels useless.

Eight minutes later, a car pulls up outside and Scott sighs in relief. Wayne is leaning against him now, still not talking, still crying silently, absently, but he’s coming back.

Within moments, another shadow appears in the doorway to the bedroom and Scott looks up to see a rather crazed looking Eddie. He can empathise.

“Hey, uncle Wayne,” the kid says in so gentle a voice that it makes Scott feel out of place. “Guess who it is, your favourite nephew in the whole wide world, who is very alive and extremely safe.” It’s said with a smile, but the teasing falls flat right along with Eddie’s heart, obvious in the way his voice wavers. There’s a shaky smile on Eddie’s face as he sits on the bed, taking Scott’s place, who takes this moment to leave the Munson men alone. Eddie’s pressing his forehead to Wayne’s, cradling his cheeks and speaking softly, gently, tenderly.

Scott almost flees the room. He’s too out of place in their moment.

He closes the bedroom door gently and a silently as he can, and is met with The Rolling Stones and Steve, cup of coffee already in his hand. They share a glance and it occurs to Scott that this is the closest he’s ever come to whatever trauma lies behind this boy’s eyes, the one that is reflected in Eddie’s and in the shadow that overcomes Wayne’s face sometimes.

“Hello,” he says at last, because what do you even say to someone who’s seen horrors unimaginable, leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee like that’s just life catching up around 4am.

Steve smiles and hands over the coffee he already prepared for Scott — black, two sugars. Oddly enough, that’s what does it for him. The alienation and obliviousness on the one hand, juxtaposed by and met with a gesture so simple as a cup of coffee just the way he likes it.

His shoulders fall and he joins Steve, who shuffles over a bit to make space for him.

“It’s been a year,” Steve says.

Scott looks at him, waiting for him to continue — something he’s learned around these three. They’ll continue or they won’t, but questions don’t really work. Not with this thing.

“Since… Since Chrissy. Few days later, Eddie almost died. Was presumed dead. It’s. It’s been a year, today. Tonight.” The boy sighs and Scott finds his insides torn apart once more.

“Is that why you were awake? The anniversary keep you up?”

Steve nods, his eyes somewhere far away as he takes another sip of his coffee. Into his mug he mutters something Scott is sure isn’t meant for his ears, but he can’t help but overhear something that will haunt him for a while.

“It’s always some kind of anniversary ‘round here.”

The thing is, Steve told him. Well, he and Eddie did, but the Munson boy’s mind had shut off from the conversation quickly, and Steve is the only one who can tell the story from the beginning. And Scott is not sure if he can believe it. He wants to, and emotionally, he does. But he has to treat it as a story, otherwise his mind would quickly join those lost.

“I’m really sorry.” He doesn’t know what for. For calling. For the horrors they’ve seen. For the nightmares everyone gets. For the faraway stare in Steve’s eyes. For the waver in Eddie’s voice.

Steve looks at him for a moment, then nods towards the front door. “Let’s go outside for a moment, yeah?”

Scott hesitates, looking back toward the still closed bedroom door, before giving in with a sigh. Nothing he can do. Eddie is better at this than him anyway.

The fresh air helps and he breathes a little easier. Steve smiles when he notices, leaning against the wall behind him. He’s always been a smart one, that boy, much better at the matters of heart than those of science, unfortunately, but Scott appreciates it now.

“Listen, half of Hawkins calls me in the middle of the night sometimes,” Steve continues. “Tonight it’s Wayne, last week it was Dustin. Woke up from a nightmare, needing to talk to Eddie. Robin spends every other night at my house because when she wakes, she won’t remember immediately if I’m still there.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head, meeting Scott’s eyes with an almost helpless look. Resignation, he thinks. The aftermath of terrible things are still terrible things.

“You call, okay? Whatever it is, whatever you or Wayne need. Whatever the clock says, whatever… Call. Like you did tonight. Sometimes that’s all we can do. You did the right thing.”

It doesn’t feel like the right thing when it makes the circles under Steve’s eyes so dark or his shoulders slump so much.

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

The boy scoffs, looking up at the night sky. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit late for that. Besides, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this man.” Their eyes meet again. “He’ll be fine.”

They talk more and Steve asks him a lot of questions, wanting to know how Scott’s doing with all this, with the trauma, the nightmares, this thing that haunts everyone but him.

“I don’t understand it,” he admits at some point. “How could I? But I understand the implications, I see the way the three of you and some kids at school behave, I see the haunted looks, and all I can do is be here. So I’m here.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, that’s what we do.”

Scott anticipates more questions or some kind of reaction; but then the front door opens and a tired, teary-eyed Eddie steps outside. He immediately goes to wrap himself around Steve, leaning against him, trusting that the wall will hold both of them.

Steve doesn’t move, just wraps his arms around Eddie, carefully balancing the coffee behind his back.

“You okay?” he whispers.

Eddie shakes his head, burrowing into him further, and Steve brushes fluttering kisses all over the side of his face. Scott doesn’t mean to watch them, but seeing them so affectionate, so comforting, it wakes an ache inside him. Something that’s buried deep inside him, because as much as he loves to hold Wayne or brush a kiss to his lips, his cheek, his forehead, he’s never felt quite brave enough to do just that. Only that. The way Steve and Eddie are doing right now.

There are too many years behind him, the weight on his chest too heavy, his feet never as stable and steady as he wishes for them to be. Being affectionate with a man, with Wayne, is something that still leaves him reeling sometimes. Wrong-footed, with nowhere to find out, no one to ask.

But watching the boys, it makes him brave. Gives him something to mirror, something to copy, something to learn and teach himself.

Swallowing, he heads back inside, needing to look out for Wayne, to see if he’s fine, to reassure himself that everything is as alright as it can be.

In the living room, Wayne looks up immediately and his face crumbles a little at whatever he sees on Scott’s face, his arms lifting as if asking for a hug. It’s not a gesture he’d ever have connected with Wayne, but that doesn’t matter when it’s past four in the morning and the kitchen smells like coffee and nightmares.

He hugs his man tightly, cradling the back of his head gently.

“Don’t apologise,” he whispers into Wayne’s neck. “Just don’t.”

“Okay,” his love whispers back. “I will tomorrow, though.”

“That’s fine,” Scott says, smiling and feeling his eyes begin to sting. He holds Wayne a bit tighter. “Are you feeling okay?”

After hesitating a moment too long, Wayne shakes his head no. “Better though. Don’t, uh. Don’t let go?”

“Never.”

Moments of silence pass like that, just standing there, holding each other. Bravery in the early morning hours.

“Thanks for calling my boys,” Wayne breaks the silence after a while.

“Of course,” Scott whispers, daring to brush a kiss to Wayne’s brow. Remembering the way Steve held Eddie and showered him in affection, Scott dares. He dares to follow that kiss up with another, to his temple this time, and another to his forehead. They’re nothing like the quick butterfly kisses he just witnessed, no. They’re slow. Hesitant in their approach and determined in their message.

I’m here. You’re here. We’re safe.

Wayne doesn’t move, but Scott can feel his breath hitch a little. It makes him smile. He pulls back a little, pressing their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” Wayne whispers.

“For what?”

“Bein’ here. Staying. Everything.”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

And he means it. Through the nightmares, through the haunted silences, through spontaneous trips to see Eddie, through late night phone calls to make sure the present is unchanged. Through it all, he will stay. He will learn how to make Wayne smile after a nightmare just like he’ll learn how to make his coffee after work. He’ll learn about his relationship with Eddie just like he’ll learn about the way he prefers his sandwiches or his favourite songs and movies.

He’ll learn. It’s the thing he does best. And he’ll be patient, he’ll grow braver by the day.

Right now, though, he only holds his man and dares to move his thumb along his cheek in a gentle caress, feeling the stubble under his fingertips like his own personal reminder that everything will be just fine.

Steve and Eddie stay the night, Eddie sharing the bed with Wayne while Scott takes the couch and Steve stays awake. Scott wants to protest but Steve shuts him off with a smile and the promise that he’ll wake him if anything changes.

It must be another terrible thing, the way this boy puts himself last — but that’s something Scott can learn another day. Right now, he listens for the gentle laughter coming from the bedroom, the door cracked open, and smiles when Wayne lets out an exasperated, “Fredward Munson, it’s five o’clock in the morning, for the love of God, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

Eddie cackles and answers something Scott can’t quite make out. Soon after, silence settles over the trailer and Scott falls asleep, feeling oddly safe with Steve watching over them, as though it’s his personal mission to fend off the nightmares himself.

He makes a mental note to make the boy more coffee in the morning.

[ykzzr]

14 January 1892

Today is the 132nd anniversary of the death of dear Prince Albert Victor, second on the British throne after his father, Prince Edward of Wales (later King Edward VII).

the Prince fell ill with influenza during the 1889-1892 pandemic. As time passed, his symptoms worsened and eventually developed into pneumonia. Prince Albert Victor died at Sandringham House on 14th January 1892, less than a week after his 28th birthday. He was surrounded by his parents; his brother, George; his sisters, Maud and Victoria; and three physicians and three nurses.

Dear Eddie on his deathbed

The nation was shocked by his sudden death and fell into a state of mourning. The Prince of Wales wrote to his mother, the Queen, exclaiming how “gladly would I have given my life for his”. George was equally as devastated and wrote “how deeply I did love him”. Alexandra never recovered from her son’s death and continued to keep his room as a shrine.

After his death, the distraught Prince of Wales wrote to Queen Victoria:

“Little did I think I should ever have to write to you on so melancholy a subject, or that our beloved Eddy would have gone before me; but it has been willed otherwise. What we went through for 8 hours watching poor dear Eddy from 2 to 10 this morning, I shall never forget. Poor Boy, he battled so strongly against death… The 3 Doctors & 3 Nurses showed the utmost skill & endurance. The poison of that horrid Influenza had got into the dear Boy’s brain & lungs, & baffled all science… We always say God’s will be done, & it is right to say & think so, but it does seem hard to rob us of our eldest son, on the eve of his marriage. Gladly would I have given my life for his, as I put no value on mine.”