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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

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Teeny tiny blurb of the munson family where Eddie is stressed about a big test coming up cause he’s trying to pass, and then he passes with an A, and comes home all excited, Wayne gives him a Munson HugTM and hangs the graded paper on the fridge 🫶

THANK YOU FOR THE MUNSON FAMILY PROMPT😭😭😭I've been thinking of the two of them aaaaaaaall day and my heart is aching. This is so perfect & I hope you enjoy it!!!💗💗💗

TW; Eddie baby speaks meanly to himself (the same way I do when I'm studying lmaooooo this is a fic in which I am Eddie and Eddie is me💔), Eddie also pulls his own hair in frustration (I don't do this) & bangs his head on his desk for the same reasons (I do this lmao) Uncle Wayne is a sweetheart, there's probably swearing, some canonical implied angst (Eddie's academic performance), mostly fluff! Uncle Wayne also knows Steve, Nancy, Dustin, etc., and refers to them all as 'his kids' (but Eddie is his boy and no one else has that title).

NOT AN X READER FIC! THIS IS UNCLE WAYNE AND EDDIE!!!

eddie & wayne @hellfirebabe @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @sweetpeapod @authorlovers @jslittlebirdie @heydreamchild @comfortcharactercraze @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @ourstaturestouchtheskies @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @manyfandomsfanvergent @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @becca-alexa

Word count: 1, 867.

Uncle Wayne came home from the plant to find Eddie hunched over the kitchen counter, the lone stool jiggling with every bounce of Eddie's knee.

He stood there, stopped and stared, at his nephew. It wasn't unusual for Eddie to be this focused on a, what was it his boy called it? A campaign? Yeah, that sounded about right. A campaign. But seeing him focused on school work? That was definitely out of the ordinary and he couldn't help but to stop and to stare. Pride, confusion, rose and fell in his chest, but above all, he felt love for his dangerous looking boy (he was a marshmallow, really, not a mean bone in his body). There were papers and folders strewn everywhere. Even if Uncle Wayne already knew that the folders weren't Eddie's, the bright colours of the covers would have given it away, as would the name Nancy Wheeler emblazoned across the spine. It only made what Eddie was doing look all the more unusual; Uncle Wayne never would have paired lavender with black, but Eddie owned it just as he did everything else which came his way, for worse or the worst.

There was another thick textbook crowding Eddie's space, with Harrington, S written along the spine. A similar word spacing to Nancy's but they had different handwriting sizes. Nancy's was small, neat and perfectly aligned, whereas Steve's looked like a spider had been dipped in ink and then ran across the page. Steve wrote neatly when he wanted to - Uncle Wayne had seen it last month in Dustin's birthday card - but clearly, this time, he hadn't wanted to. Uncle Wayne didn't know much about Steve's home life, which said more than Steve himself ever could; sometimes, silence was someone's loudest scream. Uncle Wayne had also noted several months ago that Steve wrote in his friends' cards neatly but scrawled carelessly his own name, and he felt something bitter brewing in his chest. He knew what that meant. He knew.

If people didn't stop fucking around with his kids, Uncle Wayne was really gonna lose his shit. He barely held onto it on his good days.

Surrounded by his friends' academic materials, very kindly lent to a desperate super senior, was Eddie, his slender fingers burrowed deep in his dark curls as he muttered dates and names to himself. His ink stained fingers continued to scrawl furiously, his hands almost blurry with how fast he was taking notes.

Uncle Wayne almost said, 'who lit a fire under your ass, boy?' but he didn't want to disturb The Zone. Eddie followed his thought trains everywhere, it was why his D&D campaigns were always so much fun and so successful with the rest of the Hellfire Club, but one slight distraction would completely derail his journey and never again would he be able to board the same train. As such, when Eddie focused just like this, Uncle Wayne kept well out of the way out of respect.

Instead, Uncle Wayne simply moved through the trailer as if Eddie wasn't there, fixing himself some dinner, having a shower, getting the pull out bed ready, all the while ignoring the stressed out boy camped out at the kitchen counter. He was prepared to sleep in the same room as Eddie, too, content to let his boy work. He would sleep when he was tired, he would wake up when he wasn't. He would do his own thing and Uncle Wayne would let him, being silently supportive all the while.

Or, that was the plan until Eddie's mutterings grew just a little louder. At the same time, he threw his pen down and banged his head on the desk lightly. "This is so stupid, stupid! I'm never gonna fucking - " Eddie's hands threaded into his hair and he pulled harshly, letting his head come up from the table before he slammed it down again, this time harder than last time.

Uncle Wayne had had enough.

In seconds, he was up and out of his chair, and he strode across the trailer to get to his boy. One palm slid clumsily between Eddie's reddened forehead and the table. "Hey, hey! You be careful, son. There's precious cargo in there, y'hear?" The first two sentences were harsh, unabiding. The question was soft, comforting. Knowing. Uncle Wayne used his grip on Eddie's forehead to push his head up off the table surface, and then, with his hand still cradling Eddie's forehead, as if his touch could soothe the cruelty of the wood (self-inflicted such as it was), he ducked to Eddie's side so that tearful chocolate brown and tender blue could meet.

"I just wanna pass, dad," Eddie mumbled, leaning forward into Uncle Wayne's touch, his eyes closing as the sheer level of stress he was under fully hit him. "But I'm pretty fuckin' far from it... I was so close to making '86 my year." Eddie exhaled roughly and shook his head, his dark curls lightly brushing the top of his shoulders. "Guess I'm just gonna have to be the family disappointment for the third year in a row."

Uncle Wayne sighed. It wasn't unkind, more... world weary. He had heard all of this before, seen Eddie try time and time and time again, and he wanted his boy to pass finally. He wanted to see Eddie thrive, blossom into himself more and more, just as he had been taught by the elder Munson. "I know you, Eddie, and I know you're doin' better than you think.” He thought on how best to help him, to motivate Eddie into maintaining his pace, and caught sight of the subject he was studying: history. And all of a sudden, Uncle Wayne knew exactly what to say. His mind moved so quickly that there was barely a pause between one sentence and the next, fast thinkers were the Munsons, “And believe you me, if you treat this like one'a those campaigns, you'll do just fine."

Eddie froze for just a second, those chocolate eyes pouring into his Uncle’s, and then it was like someone had turned the gas up under his arse, because Eddie sat up straighter, gripped his pen the same way he cuddled his pillows at night - tight - and began scrawling again, practically ignoring his Uncle. There was no verbal thank you but Uncle Wayne wasn’t offended; he knew his boy. His hand squeezed Eddie’s shoulder and as his boy pressed back into the touch, he heard the thank you Eddie was too busy to speak.

You’re welcome, kid was what the second tighter squeeze of Uncle Wayne’s hand said, and just like that, the moment had passed, and the seed of hope he had planted within Eddie’s mind began to grow.

It didn’t take long for that seed to become a flower, and, oh, how it flourished under Uncle Wayne’s careful, constant guidance.

Three days later, Eddie crashed through the door to the trailer, all chains and dark clothing and hair flying about his face and shoulders like dark lightning. He was emitting high pitched shrieks, woops and hollers, his teeth gritted in excitement as he ran up to Uncle Wayne and shook a thick sheath of paper in his face.

Eddie hadn’t even shut the trailer door, kicked off his shoes or shrugged his backpack off.

He only had eyes for his dad.

“Whoa, whoa,” Uncle Wayne didn’t step back, didn’t tell Eddie to be quiet, didn’t try to tell him to behave in a more ‘acceptable’ way, he just took his son as he found him. He loved Eddie, so much. “What’s got you so excited?”

Eddie shook the paper emphatically at his Uncle again, no longer forming words, just practically vibrating where he stood in his excitement.

Uncle Wayne smiled at Eddie, he smiled, as he took the sheath of paper from him. It was terribly unusual for Eddie to come home from school like this (unless he had just come back from Hellfire, but it was Wednesday today so that wasn’t the cause of his boy’s happiness). Normally, Eddie came home from school wound up tight, or shaking, or sullen and upset. But this was pure unadulterated pride and joy.

He cast his eyes down the page, a smile as wide as Eddie’s spreading on his face as he read every single comment the teacher had written, all the ticks and the comment such as ‘nice detail’, and he kept flipping through the paper until he reached the very end of Eddie’s concluding paragraph, and saw the bright red ‘A’ scrawled underneath Eddie’s small but thorough reference list.

Eddie’s excitement had dulled somewhat during the few minutes Uncle Wayne had been reading through his paper, and he gnawed anxiously on his bottom lip as he waited for something, anything, from the elder Munson. He wasn’t kept waiting long, and he wasn’t disappointed, either, because Uncle Wayne slowly, carefully, put the paper down on the kitchen counter, gave Eddie a weighted glance which told Eddie that he needed a moment to find his words, and then swept him up in his arms without hesitation. The hug would speak for the two of them. There was a hand in Eddie’s dark curls, and then it was on his shoulder, and then it was in his hair again, fingers scratching at the scalp, smoothing down the curls, and there was an arm around his waist, and then a hand rubbing up and down his back and then there was the scratch of facial hair against his temple as Uncle Wayne dropped a kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head.

The first kiss was what broke Eddie.

With a wet giggle, Eddie sagged into the hug and Uncle Wayne shifted his weight to accommodate his nephew and held him even tighter. “M’so proud of you, son. Knew you could do it. Never doubted for a second. The world’ll tell you that you can’t, believe you me, but I know you can. If no one else, Eddie, you always got me in your corner.” He kissed the top of Eddie’s head again and this time, Eddie let himself cry and he let himself be held, and he even let himself hold his dad as tightly as he wanted to.

“Thanks, dad. Couldn't do it without you."

Yeah, you could. I see you do it every day. Uncle Wayne pressed yet another kiss against the top of Eddie’s head before he leaned down and burrowed his face in Eddie’s dark curls. They stood there for so long that neither of them were sure exactly how long they’d been hugging for, but who cared? When, at last, Eddie pulled away with a suspicious swipe across his cheeks (Uncle Wayne said nothing about the wet patch on the blue shirt underneath his flannel), Uncle Wayne grabbed the paper and immediately used a magnet to attach it to the fridge. It would be eye level with Eddie whenever he went in there for a beer or leftover pizza.

It would be there to remind him that he could do it, every moment of every day, just as Uncle Wayne would be.

#eddie munson x reader #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson #the munson family #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie my beloved #i will always love you eddie munson #eddie munson

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steviesbicrisis · 10 months

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Steve’s best relationship wasn’t even a relationship. He could barely call it a fling, a flirt. They never even went on a date. They never kissed.

Steve still thinks of it as the best whatever-it-is he has ever had with someone.

At the beginning it was mostly infuriating, how quickly Eddie managed to win the kids over, compared to Steve’s months of work as babysitter/nailbat swinger/monster fighter. Steve had to literally bleed multiple times to get an ounce of respect, Eddie only had to run a nerdy club about fictional bleeding and monster-fighting.

Then somehow, and Steve still has trouble pinpointing when and how it happened, everything changed.

Taking the kids back home from hellfire became something he impatiently waited for.

He and Eddie would barely talk for a few minutes and he would find himself replaying the conversation in his head for days. Anything he could say to get a reaction out of Eddie became fundamental, and if he started by picking subjects to piss him off, he ended learning about Eddie’s favorites, because few minutes after hellfire were never enough and Steve needed Eddie to talk as much as possible, until the kids were begging to drop it and go home.

Steve never questioned the change, most likely out of fear. He doesn’t think he ever was clueless, just really scared about what would potentially mean to be staring at another dude’s eyelashes as he goes on a rant about why Ozzy Osbourne is the best artist of his generation. Or blush whenever said dude would call him “baby”, or “sweetheart”.

Steve convinced himself that the thing he and Eddie were having was as good as it was going to get, nothing more.

Then Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie ran, and Steve realized that the thing will never be enough for him.

He couldn’t not have Eddie. Not watch him as he entertains a bunch of freshmen, as he stomps with his worn out sneakers on top of forniture, as he puts his terrible music on to push away anyone who doesn’t care enough about him to stay.

Steve needed to see Eddie being alive, doing what his heart desires, and he needed to be next to him when he does.

Obviously, this realization came at the worst possible time.

Steve tried to tell him so many times: when they found him at the boathouse, when he was hiding at refer Rick’s house, when they were taking a stroll in the upside down, and even when they were driving a stolen trailer to a gunshop.

But, it seemed, Eddie had come to a realization just as important and he tried his best to avoid Steve at every given chance.

Steve tried to initiate the conversation as Eddie did his best to run away from it. And he ran until Steve had no chances left to tell him how he actually felt.

———

Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say he lost something he never had. To mourn a relationship he never began. A partner that, technically, never became a partner.

After Eddie dies, Steve has no one to be next to but he can’t say he ever did.

Steve just exists waiting. He can’t tell if he’s waiting for the pain to go away or for Eddie to jump out of a bush and yell “ah! I got you sucker!! By the way, I’m in love with you too.”

For obvious reasons, that never happens.

What does happen, is a call.

It’s a normal Tuesday, as normal as you could define it after Hawkins almost collapsed into the upside down. Steve got into a routine, between checking on the ones at the hospital, helping out at the shelter, allowing Robin to check on him to see if he’s still alive.

The call happens while Robin is doing her kitchen check up - aka making sure he has food and that he’s eating it-, so she picks the phone like she did a million times before.

“Harrington residence, this is Robin” she says, cheerfully.

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to it as he’s folding his dad’s old clothes that intends to donate to the shelter, until he hears Robin’s loud gasp.

“What is it? Is it the hospital? Is it Max?” He rushes to the other room where Robin is.

She doesn’t answer but she gives him a look as she passes him the receiver.

Steve goes quiet, a million thoughts going through his head as he takes the phone from Robin.

He’s still unprepared when he hears that unmistakable voice “Baby”.

Steve gasps for breath “Eddie?”

Is that really you? What happened? Are you hurt? Isn’t this impossible? Is what goes on in Steve’s head, but he ends up just asking “are you okay?”

He can hear a chuckle, Eddie’s wicked chuckle, a further confirmation that it is him, “I’m- hanging in there… are you okay?”

Steve finds the question absurd. He isn’t the one who got left in the upside down, the one that got eaten by demonic bats, the one who died before Steve had the chance to tell him how he felt.

He answers truthfully nonetheless, “I’m… I’m not okay.”

“I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Please Eddie, come quick.”

“I’ll break the sound barrier for you.”

#if you can’t tell #im in my RWRB era #if you watched the movie then you might like this?#just felt inspired honestly #that ‘baby’ lives inside my head rent free #also Kas Eddie we always love to see him #basically Eddie and Steve got close during the school year but Steve realized his feelings only during the events of season 4 #Eddie dies but comes back #because this is the only way I can cope with it #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #platonic stobin #robin buckley

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raeofgayshine · 1 year

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Thinking again about the fact that when Eddie and Dustin finally convince Steve to play DnD with the party, all of them, but especially Eddie, quickly become exasperated with Steve who has extremely high charisma, and decides that he can fix almost any situation by flirting with whoever they were in conflict with. Especially the fucking monsters, this man is bound and determined to himself a monster boyfriend and until it happens, he will make every single person they come across fall in love with him. So naturally, this happens a lot:

Steve: I’m going to flirt with them

Eddie, exasperated: Steve, you can’t date this monster, he’s trying to kill you-

Steve: Hot.

Steve: I’ll flirt with them harder then

#ravenpuff rambles #steve harrington #eddie munson #hellfire club #stranger things #steddie #Steve is a monster fucker and this essay I will-#they actually get him interested in playing because they were showing him the different monsters and Steve kept going #‘Hot. Also Hot. Hooot. Can I date this one? Oh HOT.’#the monsters really did it for him. (and like also it made Dustin excited and you know he loves that kid)#Eddie: I should have known inviting you to sessions would go like this but for some reason I had hope you would behave #Steve: I am behaving. I’m using my highest stat determined by Dustin and Will to my advantage.#(Also I think Dustin and Will helped Steve build his character. Eddie wanted to do it but Steve insisted it should be a surprise)#(I don’t know much about dnd so I can’t go any further but I know this bitch would want high charisma (for good reason!))#Robin loves to sit by and watch the sessions play out and she is always encouraging Steve to flirt more #there’s a new You Rule You Suck board #this one has a lot more you rule because it turns out Steve is amazing at getting high rolls

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morganbritton132 · 9 months

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It be so funny if they took Joan to soccer game and put her either in the team colour or a cheerleading outfit.

Great minds think alike because I was just thinking that we having checked in with Joan in a while so this problem is perfect.

Every Saturday for over a month now, Joan has watched the humans and Ozzy leave the house in the morning and come back hours later loud, smelly, and energized. She does not have a problem with this per se but if she had eyebrows, she’d raise one of them. She would raise the other when they’re all too tired to play with her for too long after they come back.

So, Joan makes a decision.

When the next Saturday rolls around and Steve is digging around in the drier for his jersey, she makes her case known. She whines. She meows. She gets in the way of every step. She commits a drive-by biting. She even gets in the storage closet in the hallway and knocks over the dreaded cat stroller so it falls into the hallway.

She makes it very clear. She wants to go.

Eddie coos at her, “Awe, baby, she feels left out. Let’s take her.”

“Ed, it’s hot outside,” Steve replies, gesturing to Joan. She rubs her head against his leg. “She’s gray.”

“Steve, don’t be racist.”

“I’m not being – how is that –“ Steve sputters and then rambles on about tiny bodies, and fur, and overheating in the sun, but Joan already knows she got her way. Steve can’t say no to Eddie and he can’t say no to her either. Plus, she always gets her way.

Her way is the right way.

Steve sighs and gives in, “But if she gets too hot, you have to take her home.”

As a reward for Steve and Eddie’s good decision-making, Joan helps them get ready to leave. She wiggles her way into the cabinet with the first-aid kit and pulls out bandaids. She leaves them inside Steve’s cleats. He says thank you when he finds them.

Ozzy huffs from where he’s laying in his dog bed.

Joan purrs when Steve pets her head.

Since Eddie disappeared down into his studio the moment Steve agreed to let her come, Joan continues ‘helping Steve.’ Mainly, she cleans up (eats) all the scraps of lunchmeat he drops when making sandwiches for him, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy.

Eddie immerges from the studio ten minutes before they’re supposed to leave with a hastily sewed shirt made for a cat. It’s made out of the soft material of the cheer squad t-shirts he made for the other team members’ partners. He presents it first to Steve and then holds it out to Joan like, “Ta-dah.”

Joan sniffs the fabric – it smells like Eddie – and Steve is just like, “Why did you make that?”

“Because Joan’s got to represent, Stevie. We’re a jock family now and jocks wear their team colors,” Eddie insists, grin getting bigger when Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Everybody else is wearing team colors. Even Ozzy. See.”

He gestures to the pin attached to his yellow service dog vest that says ‘#1 Steve Harrington Defender.’ It’s right next to a patch that says ‘If You Pet Me, You Are A Part Of The Problem’ which is… “That’s new.”

“Yeah, I’m solving all the world’s problems today, baby,” He grins. “Isn’t that right, Joan?”

She hisses at the shirt.

#Its always fun to write from Joan’s perspective #also I just love the idea of Ozzy being annoyed by Steve thinking her for helping when she’s not actually helping. He helps. All the time.#Joan’s just like: it’s fine if you go out but you better have enough energy to play with me when you come back #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson #Joan the disservice cat #Ozzy the service dog

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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yearning hours (b-side) — in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone (or: bravery, despite everything)

🤍 also on ao3

Steve comes to the quarry when he needs to think. He comes to the quarry when he needs to not think. When he needs to feel this rush of adrenaline that feels so much like monsters are real and the world has turned upside down. Except he isn’t going to die here, sitting on the cold ground, legs dangling over the abyss.

He’s not going to die, but life stops for a moment all the same.

And Steve relearns how to breathe. How to think. How to not think. While the darkness below him swallows it all. The pale light of the moon is not enough to reach the ground hundreds of feet below, or to chase away the complete and total darkness that meets his eyes when he looks down there.

It’s all-encompassing, this darkness, the vastness of it; Steve sometimes feels like he becomes part of it. Just for an hour or two. Just for the night.

The cold air that hits his face makes him shiver for a second, and reminds him that he used to think the darkness at the bottom of the quarry had a life of its own. Hell, maybe it does. With what they’ve seen, what they’ve fought, who’s to say there’s nothing down there? Maybe that’s what draws him here so often.

Does the living darkness know his secrets like the darkness in his room does? Does it listen to him, does it care? They’re stupid questions, Steve knows. But they carry a hopefulness he wants to preserve. Something that survived the Upside Down, that survives the nightmares and the flashbacks and the post-traumatic stress, as Hopper and Owens call it.

There’s something primal about sitting on the edge of such vastness, so much so that it makes his heart beat faster, his breath come shallower, like he is just a second away from falling. Like he has to savour this; this second, this moment, this life, because beyond it, around it, below it, there is only darkness.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it all out until his lungs ache. The silence is absolute. He feels like the only person on the planet — but not in the bad, painful way that’s been hiding in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember.

If he only breathes like this for a while longer, lets the feeling settle, lets the thoughts come and bring emotions with them, he knows that soon the tears will fall.

Tears, because he shouldn’t have to sit at the edge of the quarry in the dark of night just to be able to feel. Tears, because he forgot how to be a boy, how to be a person, about three years ago. Almost to the day. Tears, because they all did; but he’s Steve. He can’t let them see. Wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to.

And tears, tonight, because just hours earlier, Eddie fell asleep while Steve made dinner. His arms were curled around the pillow Steve had leaned against all afternoon, and Steve just stood there in the doorway to Eddie’s room, the smell of fresh pasta mixing with that of leather, paperback books, tobacco and laundry detergent that is so purely and wonderfully Eddie that Steve just wants to catch it in a mason jar and open it whenever he needs a dose.

Eddie had fallen asleep, and all Steve could do was look at him. Smile on his lips, ache in his heart that only grew in ferocity until all he could do was leave. Because friends don’t watch their friends sleep. Not like this. Not with their hands twitching by their sides, curled into fists to stop them from reaching out and trailing over soft, warm skin. Friends don’t… They don’t.

So Steve left, pasta untouched. Heart unravelled. Words unspoken.

He left and sped off until he reached the quarry, a safe place to piece himself back together again — but he doesn’t have the heart to leave out Eddie. So every time he comes here and puts the pieces of himself back together, he puts Eddie in the centre. He always does. It’s what keeps getting him in this mess.

But it’s still the closest he’ll get to bravery after the Upside Down; admitting, if only to himself, that he likes a boy. Allowing himself to cry about it. To breathe in and breathe out and have the truth unchanged, unchallenged, undoubted.

He’s still breathing when the all-encompassing silence is interrupted, joined by the unmistakeable sound of tires on gravel. Seconds later, headlights illuminate the night, his arms, the edge of the quarry, but still not reaching beyond that. The car comes to a stop but Steve still doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around, just hopes that whoever it is will just leave him alone.

Lights go out, the engine is killed, followed by the sound of a car door opening and being closed far too gently.

Steve isn’t too surprised when steps approach him slowly, nor when they come to a stop beside him, chasing away some of the cold that’s been resting over him like a blanket.

Instinctively, he knows it’s Eddie. He just doesn’t know why.

“How’d you know I’m here?” he asks into the void, still unmoving.

“Just knew,” comes the reply, and it sounds so soft, so gentle, so understanding that Steve fears he might fall apart and have to rebuild himself once more. Twice in one night. Wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last. “Why’d you leave?”

Because otherwise I’d have crossed the distance and fallen to my knees, brushed a kiss to your forehead and told you dinner was ready. Because otherwise I’d have slid down the doorframe and watched over you, watched you, and the firework of a person that you are even in your sleep. I’d have fallen in love and I’d have fallen, fallen, fallen. So I needed to go where falling is not an option.

Instead of saying any of that, Steve only shrugs. “Just did.”

It’s lame and unfair, he knows, but talking to the darkness is so much easier when there’s not an audience, and Eddie just… he can’t know. Any of that.

“Can I join you?” Eddie asks then, and Steve can hear it in his voice that he would leave if Steve said no.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t; just nods and scoots to the side a bit even though there’s enough room for Eddie to sit just anywhere.

But he doesn’t sit just anywhere, no. He sits down rather clumsily — for which Steve can’t blame him, it is a little scary in the dark, and one wrong move could be your very last — and ends up with his arm and shoulder pressed to Steve‘s, their legs so close he can feel Eddie‘s warmth through the denim.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s dangerous, so close to falling, and Steve scoots to the side, breaking contact. Breathing carefully.

Eddie‘s eyes are on him, he can feel it. He doesn’t react. It hurts, his entire body aches with how close he wants to be. But it’s too much, even for himself to bear. Putting all that on Eddie would be enough to take them both down to the bottom of the quarry, and lower still.

So he swallows. All the words he cannot say, all the thoughts that lump together and clog his throat.

“Are you okay, Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs again.

“Sure.”

“Right,” Eddie whispers, then sighs. It’s not a heavy sigh or a judgmental one, but it makes Steve flinch all the same.

Too much. Too fucking much even unknown.

Silence falls over them, the quarry working its magic — or its curse — even on Eddie Munson. Steve wonders if it suffocates or liberates him, but he doesn’t dare to ask. It would take too much explaining for the question to make sense, too much revealing himself, too much of… Just too much.

He wants to ask. To say something. To scoot back over again, closer to Eddie, and lay his head on his shoulder, bask in his warmth and withstand the magic, the curse, the darkness.

Withstand it, because that’s what Eddie does. He is brave, despite everything.

And Steve is just the boy who sits with darkness at night because he doesn’t know how to be brave anymore, not when there’s no question of life or death. He forgot all about everyday-bravery.

But Eddie didn’t. He’s still there, still smiling and laughing and teasing his way through life and into Steve’s heart and soul.

And Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what he can do with it. Doesn’t know how to ask.

It’s no surprise, then, that it’s Eddie who does.

“What are we doing, Steve?” He sounds a bit resigned about it, and it makes Steve hide away in himself even more, focusing on the darkness beneath him rather than the light beside him — they both leave him blinded at equal measure, but one of them doesn’t ask him questions to which he doesn’t know the answer.

“What do you mean?” he asks after a while, his voice a little off. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Apprehension, maybe. Caught. Uncovered. Exposed.

Beside him, Eddie sighs again, just a little bit, but Steve has always hated that he keeps making people sigh. Makes him feel so fucking small, so incredibly useless.

He raises one leg from the abyss to rest his chin on his knee, because suddenly he feels so heavy that he needs the physical reminder that he’s not about to fall. One foot on the ground. Steady, secure, a great illusion for now.

“Sorry,” he whispers at last, because Eddie hasn’t said anything, has only sighed and created a silence that’s so loud it can probably be heard at the bottom of the quarry, and Steve feels like the silence is his fault this time.

“What for?”

“Dunno,” he confesses, lies, concedes as his house of cards begins to crumble for some reason. The heaviness wanders from his throat down to his heart and settles there, making a home for itself, casting out all the lightness that usually comes when he’s around Eddie.

But it seems he’s reached his breaking point. It seems he can only pretend to be okay for so long, pretend not to yearn and ache and long for intimacy and tenderness. It seems he can only put himself together again, rebuilding himself around Eddie at his centre, until it would break apart for good. Burst out of his heart, dismantle him piece by broken piece until all that’s left is a broken boy, yearning.

And so he can’t stop the tears even if he wanted to. They’re kind in their silence, streaming down his face without demand for sobs or sniffles. Just breaking free, a simple displacement reaction. Following the physics of emotions.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. There’s that warmth, that touch, that gentleness he’s been craving — and there’s that sob he’s been suppressing. “Hey, Stevie, it’s okay. You’re okay. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head into the warmth of Eddie’s neck, wiping dejectedly at his tears.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, sighs, groans, annoyed with himself.

“Don’t want to? Or can’t?”

Both. Neither. All at once.

He shrugs again, still leaning against Eddie.

Eddie, who turns his head slightly and brushes his lips over Steve’s hair in what can only be described as a kiss. Except, it can’t. It couldn’t. It isn’t.

Steve begins to shiver against him — maybe he’s cold, maybe he’s overwhelmed, maybe he’s both and neither and everything all at once.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

And then Eddie kisses his head again, and he stills.

“You can’t kiss me, Eddie,” he says, voice still thick, but steadier this time. No more sobbing, no more whining. Just a broken boy, yearning. Always, always that.

Eddie freezes where he’s holding Steve, only his arm still moves in soothing, rubbing motions — warming him, holding him, saving him. Always, always that.

“Sorry,” Eddie says this time. Except it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, and Steve leans back to look at him. It’s impossible to make out his expression in the darkness, but he tries nonetheless.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “Just…” He gestures vaguely, not quite sure what the just entails. Just mean it. Just do it right. Just don’t do it out of pity. Just leave me alone until I’m over you even though we both know I never really will be.

“Just?”

Steve shrugs. Whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hide, Stevie.” Be brave, Stevie. Be brave like me.

God, how he wishes. How he longs. How he aches.

“You don’t have to hide, not from me.”

Steve huffs and says, before he can stop himself, “Especially from you.”

Eddie pauses and Steve freaks out a little bit, even before Eddie asks, “Why?” He sounds wounded. Small. He shouldn’t sound like that. Never.

“Because you’re gonna see otherwise.”

“See what?”

That I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Besotted. Enamoured. All the big words you like to make fun of. All of them and more.

“Me.”

There’s a beat where nothing happens. Maybe time stops, maybe reality resets itself, settling in more comfortably in anticipation of vulnerability’s fallout.

And then Eddie takes his hands, reaching for them in the darkness and finding them with ease. Like he’s done it many times before. Because he has. Just never like this.

“Steve,” he begins, and Steve wants to run again. To hide, to confess to another void, and make Eddie forget this conversation ever happened. “I think I already do.”

What? No. No, you can’t.

When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie continues, seemingly gathering himself and his thoughts as he goes. Always so much stronger, so much braver than Steve.

“I already do see you. The way you smile at me, light up the whole room with it. The way you hug me, always a little too long, but never long enough if you ask me. I see you blushing, I see you going out of your way for me, and… And I think, if you knew how to look, you’d see the same in me. Because, uh. Because I like seeing you. And I like… I like you. Not in a friends kinda way. In a way where I wanna sit beside you all night and talk about deep shit, but I wanna run my fingers through your hair when we do. I wanna play with your fingers when we do. I wanna kiss you when we do, because there’s deep, heavy, traumatic shit everywhere, but there’s also you. And I don’t want one without the other. I want you. In that exact way that I see you looking at me, wanting me, too.”

Eddie swallows, a little breathless beside him like Steve’s not choking on emotion himself.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Eddie whispers then, pressing and desperate and knowing. “Tell me you don’t like me in a way you think you shouldn’t. Tell me I don’t see you.”

He shakes his head, slowly, frantically. “I can’t.”

“Because it’s true?”

Steve’s nodding now, just as frantic, leaving him disoriented and falling, only anchored to Eddie who’s still holding his hands.

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, rasps, whispers. “It… I’m. I don’t.” It’s he who swallows heavily now, needing a second or an eternity to process Eddie’s words. “You really mean that?”

Eddie nods. He can feel it, somehow.

“I don’t know what has you so scared,” Eddie begins. “Except the obvious, of course, but I feel like that’s only a small chunk of it. But you gotta believe me when I say that I mean it. I like you. So much it makes me stupid sometimes.”

Steve huffs, but it’s a smile this time. A real one. Tinged with sadness and heaviness and disbelief still, but a real one nonetheless.

“I wanna tell you. All of that. Everything, in my own words. And I will, but… Eddie, I’m—“ Steve starts with a quivering voice but shuts himself up before he can ruin this.

I’m broken. I’m not sure if I can let you. I’m just Steve. I’m bullshit. I’m…

“I’m tired.”

It has a double meaning, here at the quarry — but he doesn’t mean it like that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He won’t.

“Can you just hold me?” It is perhaps the closest to bravery he’s going to get. Tonight, or always. But it’s enough. It can be enough.

Eddie hums and Steve can hear the smile, can feel how some of the heaviness inside him dissipates with it.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Steve shivers again as he shifts, lying back so it’s only his legs, bent at the knee, that dangle over the abyss now. Eddie joins him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and rearranging them so Steve rests half on top of him. It can’t be comfortable, but Steve doesn’t mention it.

They lie there in silence, and Steve allows himself to let go of the tension in his bones as he feels Eddie’s hands travelling across his back in a tender caress. He doesn’t quite believe it’s real, doesn’t believe he’ll get to keep it beyond this moment, and can’t quite savour it the way he wants to because surely he will lose this, too. Surely Eddie will realise and come to his senses and—

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, leaning up slightly to brush his lips over Steve’s temple. “Yeah, Stevie. I really, really mean it.” And then, after a while, “Will you come back home now?”

Back home. Home to Eddie and Wayne. Home, because Eddie cares and wants and bravely, bravely asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Another kiss to his forehead. “And will you stay?”

It is Steve now who leans up, hovering above Eddie to meet his eyes through the dark. “I will. I do.” And then he slowly, carefully captures Eddie’s lips with his own, sealing the promise and receiving one in return.

Kissing Eddie is a lot like falling, he realises. But there are arms wrapped around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go — so maybe it isn’t falling after all. Maybe it’s flying.

At home in his bed, Eddie holds him some more, running fingers through his hair long after Steve has fallen asleep.

They’ll make it work.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #dio words #idk how to describe the mood of this so uh feel free to tell me if you find out #in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone #they need so much therapy your honour #i keep wanting to write this one steddie at the quarry scene but it always gets derailed :/

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

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Steve comes home into a dark and suspiciously quiet living room. A short moment of the all-too-familiar fear that's always lurking in the back of his mind flaring up inside of him is immediately followed by a fresh breath of relief when he hears muffled voices emerge from behind a door down the hall.

He kicks off his shoes and quietly walks on socked feet towards the sound. In the doorframe, he stills to observe the scene inside the room: Eddie is crawled into bed with Katie, both of them tucked underneath her bright pink bedsheets. She's resting heavily against Eddie's chest and his hand is stroking through her hair, while a book is resting in his lap.

'Then he looked beyond the thorn bushes, out into the big dark night,' Eddie reads to her. 'Nothing could be further than the sky. "I love you right up to the moon," he said, and closed his eyes.'

Neither Eddie nor Katie notice Steve standing there and he can't help the smile creeping onto his face.

'"Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare,' Eddie continues. '"That is very, very far."' He flips a page. 'Big Nutbrown Hare settled Litttle Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over to kiss him goodnight.'

Eddie himself also leans down to press a kiss against Katie's forehead.

'Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile: "I love you right up to the moon - and back."'

He softly closes the book and brushes some hairs out of Katie's face, a soft smile lingering around the corners of his mouth. Steve can see that her eyes are already closed and that her lips are slightly parted; she looks peaceful, completely different from how she was when Steve had to leave the house.

'Hi,' Steve whispers, tiptoeing into the room.

Eddie's smile brightens when he looks up and meets his gaze.

'You got her to stop crying?' Steve asks, still whispering.

Eddie nods. 'I think her headache's finally gone,' he answers. He shuffles a little bit, cautious not to wake Katie, then pats the space beside him. Steve crawls next to Eddie underneath the blanket; the bed is small but they manage to make it fit, and Eddie presses a chaste kiss to his cheek when he's settled.

Steve feels the exhaustion of the long day wash over him in a sudden wave. Without another word, he drops his head onto Eddie's shoulder and closes his eyes.

He hears a soft chuckle close to his ear, then feels a hand grab his fingers and bring them upwards to press a kiss against the back of his hand.

'I love you to the moon and back,' Eddie whispers against his skin.

#basil this is for you i hope it cures your headache #💜💜💜#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #back on my bullshit #the bullshit being absoltely teeth rotting fluff ofc #i love you to the moon and back #truly a masterpiece i will always love that book #fruity ficlet

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hitlikehammers · 4 months

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almost out of time

rating: t ♥️ cw: boys being very unserious ♥️ tags: established relationship, featuring the party as supporting cast, also featuring shootouts! (with the most negligible stakes), post S4, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day twenty: Love is saying "I love you" even when you're scared (@quinns-shadowy-arts)

early 90s rockstar husbands, baby ♥️ this is apparently what happens when you say 'oh I'll skip day 20 because I have no ideas' and then ideas come for you because you were arrogant ♥️

“Stevie,” Eddie’s breathless, and he is, in fairness, often breathless around that name but this…

Not like this.

“Shh,” Steve bites out, hisses low through clenched teeth as he presses Eddie into the wall a little harder, chest heaving against Eddie’s; “quiet.”

“Steve,” Eddie pants, looking over his shoulder in the dim, there’s fog too, from where Eddie has no fucking clue but it cuts his line of sight to only just beyond Steve’s reach; he’s no use, and he tries to listen for the approach, for footsteps, but his heartbeat’s too loud; “Steve, we’re—"

A finger presses hard, jams his lips up against his teeth as Steve glares out the corner of his eye.

“They’ll fucking hear us,” he leans so close Eddie can feel the dampness of his words when he speaks, then the full drag of his lips; feels the instruction more than hears:

“Stay quiet.”

And Eddie’s trying, he really is, but they’re…this is fucking hopeless, isn’t it? They’re outnumbered, they’ve been running for fuck knows how long. Everyone else is already gone, it’s just them, and they…they can wait it out as long as they want and Eddie would take forever with Steve, he would, but not like this, and fuck, fuck—what good is it, what’s the point when it’ll change nothing—

“But Steve,” Eddie whispers, but his breath catches it and threatens to whine through his words; he nearly chokes trying to rein it back but Steve’s got his whole hand against his mouth, now: not hard, but present. Like a bolster. It feels protective. It feels safe where there’s no safety left.

The red flashes in the dim and fuck; fuck

“Stay down, and don’t fucking talk, okay?” Steve breathes harsh right against Eddie’s ear, and Eddie’s shoved up against him so close, so close that his warmth is Eddie’s warmth in the chill, so close he can feel Steve’s pulse inside his own; they’re, it’s—

They’re almost out of time.

“St—"

And then Steve’s lips are on his, insistent, demanding, claiming, keeping, his tongue in Eddie’s mouth and sure, it’s a very effective, tried and true way to shut Eddie up, but this: this feels like so much more; it’s all passion and feeling, adrenaline and that tip-of-a-knife feeling, that plunge-before-the-plunge and Eddie’s heart feels bold for it, and he sucks at Steve’s lip and kisses once with force of his own before he breaks off and cups Steve’s cheek, reaches to cradle his face full-on and steals one last kiss before looking him square in the eye, decision made, though—

There wasn’t really a decision to it; there’s no choice to be had when it’s him, or Steve.

“I love you, baby,” Eddie tells him fierce, with all the feeling in him; “so fucking much,” which is always true, not just here at the end. He hopes Steve knows that.

“Eddie, what the hell—"

And Eddie’s scrambling up, creeping out from their hiding place and toward the shuffling approach incoming.

“What are you doing?” Steve rasps, lunging to grab at Eddie’s ankle but Eddie’s determined, he’s got momentum, he’s already up and clearing the corner and—

“For love!” he cries out as he leaps into the open, arms wide and asking for the hit—

And it comes, it fucking comes almost immediately.

Eddie drops to the ground, gasping.

And then they’re on top of him.

“Fucking drama queen,” Dustin, Dustin of all of them has the goddamn audacity to say to him as he walks over his prone frame and takes aim at Steve who, in fairness, does take out Mike before Dustin takes three pulls to hit him and win the game to screeching digital fanfare through the speakers.

“You could have just stayed down, man,” Steve huffs with a roll of his eyes as he stands up and unbuckles his vest.

“We were almost out of time!” Eddie gapes a little, sitting up and pointing forcefully toward the big red numbers counting down how many seconds they had left in the arena. Less than three minutes.

“We could have made it, these shitheads still don’t have any aim,” Steve purses his lips with so much of that…that glorious bitchy judgement Eddie loves most to lick off of him, he wonders where he can drag him to—

The flickering of colors next to him catches his attention and: oh. Right. They dragged the kids here. It’s fucking sweltering, they’re all back from school, and the options were swimming or something air-conditioned. And the new releases at the movie theater were all kinda shitty.

And Eddie cannot risk getting them thrown out of here for public indecency at the minimum: the laser tag’s connected to the best fucking arcade in town.

And frankly, yeah: it’s been years in the plural now since they shut the Upside Down…y’know, down, but he’s kinda proud of the guys, extra proud of his Stevie, and actually, yeah, kinda proud of himself, that what with the dark, and the lights, and red and the guns: they were fine. They were safe.

It was fun. It was just a game.

“I mean,” Eddie picks back up his defense, gesturing at the at the kids with their little chest plates all blinking a celebratory red-blue-white-blue-red that feels either very patriotic or very law-enforcement-themed while his and Steve’s remain dark; “they were on their way to our location, one of us had to draw their attention,” and it was going to be Eddie because…

Because: for love.

“We weren’t gonna look there,” Lucas deadpans as Mike snickers and high-fives Dustin a little…a little too triumphantly and okay, fine, he thinks he’s starting to get why Steve had been taking this so seriously: to keep the shitheads from this kind of ego-inflating victory; “we were headed the other way.”

Eddie doesn’t even have to turn to feel the weight of Steve's stare, the vindication and self-congratulation in it's just…tangible in the air.

“Oh,” Eddie bites his lip, tries to think of an angle; “umm,” he twirls his hair and then Steve’s at his side, bumping his shoulder and he can’t really hide, or delay any further—and it’s Steve, next to him, so: he doesn’t exactly want to that bad, anyway, so he turns and gives the softest, widest-eyed look he can muster:

“Good intentions?” he sells it for as much as he can gather up, and Steve?

Steve just snorts, and bumps his shoulder, pretty fucking hard.

“You’re unbelievable,” Steve chuckles a little, shakes his head but doesn’t rush to follow the boys to the armory; he glances that way, but turns back quick, and then he’s grabbing the back of Eddie’s neck and: oh.

Yeah, this was more what Eddie’d been going for with the farewell-forever-my-most-beloved kiss he left Steve with before his grand-though-arguably-unnecessary sacrifice.

“And you’re buying lunch,” Steve breaks off with a nip to his lower lip before shoving his target-vest at Eddie’s chest and making for the door.

And Eddie’s a little breathless again, as he whines Steve’s name—so fucking often, just, breathless around that name—before he struggles a little to unhook his own vest because he’s actually hungry, now that Steve’s landed him with the bill for lunch, but really: it’s a fucking empty threat, either way.

Like: they share a fucking bank account.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #established steddie #self-sacrificing eddie #long-suffering steve #deeply devoted husbands #idiots in love #slice of life #slightly bitchy (I mean hot I mean no I mean yes hot) steve #if the choice is between protecting one of them they'll always choose the other #because they will kinda be a LITTLE self-sacrificing for the rest of their natural born lives because they're that in LOVE #steddielovemonth #love is saying “I love you” even when you're scared #playful steddie #stranger things

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steddiehyperfixation · 1 year

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it means "i love you" (steddie ficlet)

When Eddie was little, his mother used to hold his hand and squeeze it three times. "It means 'I love you'," she told him, demonstrating one squeeze for each word, "and if you want to, you can give four squeezes back to say 'I love you, too'." So little Eddie squeezed back, that time and every time.

It was something that was just theirs, a silent communication, a wordless comfort. Oftentimes it was spontaneous, just gentle, random reminders of affection whenever the feeling arose, but sometimes it was purposeful, meant to be felt deeply as an encouragement or a reassurance.

On Eddie's first day of preschool, he held his mother's hand as she coaxed him through the doors of the classroom. He hadn't wanted to leave her side, but she had smiled at him and squeezed his hand, and it was those three squeezes, sending the warmth and promise of her love through their hands, that had given him the courage to let go and bound fearlessly into the fray of the other children.

On those dark nights when Eddie's father would get a little too drunk, a little too loud, a little too angry, Eddie's hands and his mother's would find each other and squeeze. The gesture was grounding, protective, safe. Eddie could never be afraid as long as he was holding on to her love.

When Eddie's mother got sick, her health gradually deteriorating until she was bedridden and weak and could barely even speak, she still reached for her son's hand and spoke with those three squeezes. I love you. Eddie squeezed back four times. I love you, too. She held onto life as long as she did for him, he knew that, but she couldn't hold on forever. Her hand went cold and still in his and Eddie, only eight years old then, gave three last squeezes as the machines flatlined and the doctors rushed in and a nurse carried him from the room.

That was the last time he ever used that gesture to signal his love.

Over the next twelve years, Eddie found other sources of love and warmth and safety, found it in the bonds he formed with his friends and his uncle and the little lost sheep who wandered into his D&D club. These relationships did not lend to hand-holding, though, and he had since learned how to express his affection for the people he cared about through words and favors and casual, friendly touches instead, and so Eddie never shared the little language of hand squeezes with anyone else.

Until now. Until Steve.

Steve Harrington has become Eddie’s biggest and brightest source of love and warmth and safety. Through the craziness of Vecna and the Upside-Down, through the trauma of almost dying and the long process of recovery, Steve was by his side the entire time, and Eddie has grown to care for him deeply. He doesn’t just love him, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with him, actually.

They’re dating now, finally, after all the months of flirting and pining ultimately led to confessions and kissing, but it’s only been official for a few weeks. Surely it’s still too soon to be dropping the L word already. Not that Eddie would know - he’s never been in love before, never even really been in a proper romantic relationship before. He doesn’t know what the normal timeline is for this sort of thing. Steve is the one with all the relationship experience, he’s the one who’d know, and so Eddie is waiting for him to say it first.

It’s getting increasingly harder to keep it in, though. Sometimes all Eddie’s love just bubbles over, the emotion growing too big for his body and demanding to be expressed. Right now is one of those times. He can’t explain why - it’s not as if Steve is doing anything different or special; they’re just sitting across from each other in a small diner booth, knees bumping together under the table, Steve talking around a mouthful of cheeseburger as he tells a story about something stupid one of the kids did earlier - but Eddie can feel his heart expanding and his chest growing warm, and he feels like he might burst. He laughs at the story and makes a comment to continue the conversation as he catches Steve’s hand, holding it across the table and releasing his bursting affection with three quick squeezes. I love you.

Steve doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know the code or its intended response. He just smiles, squeezes back only once, and gently, idly, rubs his thumb across the back of Eddie’s hand. And that’s enough. Eddie doesn’t need Steve to know what it means, not yet. It's enough, for now, just to hold his hand, just to say it without saying it.

Eddie starts doing this more often. Whenever his love threatens to overwhelm him, his hand finds Steve’s and squeezes three times. I love you. There’s no pattern to these moments, at least not one Eddie can predict, the feeling arising randomly and without warning at anytime, anywhere: on dates at diners or watching movies on the couch, during mundane tasks like cooking breakfast or cleaning up after hosting friends, in the middle of a kiss or in the bedroom, in the car with a gaggle of teenagers in the backseat or in the middle of Steve’s work.

Steve still doesn’t know what it means. But Steve is smart, observant. Eddie can tell he’s starting to figure out that it means something, can see him piecing together the way those three squeezes are always accompanied by a softer smile or a deepened kiss or a gentler touch.

It’s another few weeks until Steve one day returns Eddie’s squeezes with three of his own. ? ? ? The gesture is experimental, unsure, the meaning close but not quite there. Eddie’s breath catches anyways, his smile going soft and his cheeks flushing pink. He squeezes Steve’s hand four times. I love you, too. And Steve knows then; Eddie watches his eyes flash with understanding as it finally clicks in his brain. He doesn’t say anything, though, neither of them do. Steve just pulls Eddie closer and kisses him, soft and slow and deep, and Eddie melts into him.

Now the sun is rising, morning filtering through the window and casting streaks of light across Steve’s bed where the boys lay curled around each other. Steve is still asleep, snoring peacefully in Eddie’s arms, but Eddie is awake, quietly admiring how perfect Steve looks under the soft glow of dawn. The stripes of sunlight illuminate his bare skin with gold, highlighting the adorable little moles on his cheek and neck and shoulder. Eddie kind of wants to bite them. So he does. Because he can.

Steve yelps when Eddie’s teeth latch onto his shoulder, driving his elbow backwards into Eddie’s stomach to push him off. But Steve is used to occurrences like this by now, so his shove is light and his tone is affectionate as he rolls over to face Eddie and mumbles, “You’re a menace.”

“Not my fault you look good enough to eat, Stevie.” Eddie grins at him before pouncing again, smothering his boyfriend with more bites and kisses.

Steve laughs and his attempts to shove Eddie away lack any real effort, until he finally retaliates by finding the secret ticklish spot on Eddie’s side, sending the other boy falling off of him and into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“No fair!” Eddie gasps through his laughter as Steve tackles him with tickles. He admits defeat fairly quickly, breathlessly insisting, “Okay, truce, truce!”

Steve lets himself be pushed off and settles back onto his side beside Eddie. His chuckles fade into a sweet smile, his eyes bright and shining as he stares at Eddie with an expression of pure adoration. Eddie feels his heart bursting again, the feeling growing bigger and bigger with every second that Steve keeps looking at him like that. He wants nothing more than to reach for Steve’s hand and squeeze three times, but he’s a little afraid to now that he's sure Steve knows what it means.

“Hey, Eds?” Steve speaks after a few moments of silence.

Eddie shifts onto his side to face him completely. They're barely a breath apart. “Yeah?”

Steve touches Eddie's arm, starting from his shoulder and trailing down. His fingertips are so light as they skim the soft skin of Eddie's forearm and the palm of his hand, Eddie very nearly shivers. Steve slides his fingers between Eddie’s, closes them around his hand. “I love you,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hand as he speaks, one squeeze for each word.

Eddie is overflowing, heart filled to the brim with all the love he has for Steve and all the love he feels in return. His smile spreads so wide his face might just split in two. He moves their hands between them, twisting their arms so that he can press a kiss to the back of Steve's hand. “I love you, too,” Eddie says back, with one squeeze for each word.

It's something that's just theirs now, this little language of hand squeezes.

#eddie always tells people he's the one who said i love you first and they get into silly little arguments about it btw <3 #anyways 'squeeze' is no longer a real word to me i have written it too many times it just looks like nonsense now #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #ficlet #mine #(now also on ao3 under the user brokenfandoms)

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

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whenever someone tries to hate on eddie munson by calling him ~cringe~ it’s like “ya that’s kinda the whole point ???? he’s a cringe-fail-loser-genderless-dark-angel-cast-out-of-heaven AND he wears rings. why else do you think i’ve been hyperfixated on him for seven months straight ????” the cringe is just part of the appeal !

#to YOU he’s cringe #to ME he’s my imaginary metalhead boyfriend with six kids #but real talk i ship him with steve over myself any day #steddie above my own love life who the fuck cares about me dating #it always goes back to steddie #i’m gagging on my own lunacy #but anyways cringefail boys are the hottest boys #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson brainrot #steddie brainrot #the steddie brainrot is real #joseph quinn #steve x eddie #eddie munson/steve harrington #steve harrington/eddie munson

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cherrysabbath · 7 months

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as nice as it is to read eddie comfort i need people to realize not all plus size people are insecure and upset with their bodies !!! some are more proud than others and there’s people who are more neutral on their bodies

#˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ zero thots #this isn’t to say you CANT write about it bc you can !!#write whatever the fuck you want !! you’re the author at the end of the day <3 #reading the stuff about eddie loving on you tho is always a goodie i love those sm #i just wanna read fics where i’m not always sad about my body nor do i want to be fetishized #ʚ☆ɞ eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader

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heylookliisten · 2 years

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some dating rockstar!eddie and him being on his first tour thoughts i have swimming in my brain

he has a hard time saying goodbye. he’s so in love with you and it just feels wrong to not be by your side. you give him something of yours to take with him. whether it’s a piece of your jewelry he’ll wear everyday or one of your old t-shirts he can’t sleep without. his band mates have to pull him away from your goodbye because he will make them late giving you “just one more” kiss

eddie buys you something from every stop they make. even if it’s just a simple stop to get gas for the tour bus, he’s waltzing in there and buying whatever seems right. he sends them out with little notes highlighting where he got them and why he picked it out. you keep them all in a box for safe keeping

phone calls never go unanswered. you and eddie promised each other this when he first got told about the tour. whether he’s staying up until the early hours of the morning to catch you coming home from work or you sneaking in a call when your boss isn’t looking to exchange i love yous

eddie dedicates every performance to you. he gets a little carried away and starts going on so many tangents about you to the crowd that the band has to remind him to start the next song. the whole country practically knows you halfway through the tour

you bought eddie a polaroid to take with him on the road. he takes silly photos of him and the band, crowds from his shows, and of sites he thinks you’d like. you started a photo wall in your apartment with them

one day eddie mentions being a little homesick so you send him some photos yourself. a few of wayne and dustin together, some of steve and robin in the middle of some weird conversation, and one special one nancy took of you. it was simple, you’re laughing at something she said while wearing eddies vest. he carries it in his wallet always and gives it a little kiss before each show

when corroded coffin comes on the radio for the first time you and the whole gang have a listening party. eddie called beforehand to mention a stations doing a feature on them. wayne makes sure he’s off from work and you all huddle around a radio to hear them. you call him back afterwards and he has a giddy smile as everyone says how proud they are of him

the trip back to hawkins is the longest and toughest for eddie. he’s buzzing with anticipation and moves frantically to unload the bus. everyone has to tell him to slow down but he just can’t he needs to see you now. the world seems to be moving so fast and his heart is practically beating out of his chest, but all of that stops when he enters your apartment

you were sitting on the couch watching whatever late night television had to offer when the door opened. you look over and instantly your features brighten. in lightning speed you get up and are tackling him in a hug. eddie wastes no time pulling you as close as physically possible and squeezing with all his might. he’s overwhelmed by how perfect you fit in his arms, the lingering smell of your perfume, the happy twinkle in your eyes, and then the comforting feeling of your lips against his

you smile sweetly at him as you whisper “welcome back, baby” and suddenly eddies hit with a comfort he’s been missing on the road. everywhere he went he always felt like there was something missing. being in your dimly lit apartment and stealing quick kisses is when it finally clicks. he was missing you. you were his inspiration, his dream, his heart, and most importantly his home

#I’m so soft for him #i will always love you eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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