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fandoms-in-law · 1 year ago

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On Shore in Whitby

So in the Summer I went to Whitby with my dad and had the idea of writing a fic combining the things Whitby was known for; Pirates, Alice in Wonderland and Dracula. I swapped the fandom I intended to use for this fic and it's still weird

Summary: Pirate Captain Eddie doesn't like raiding Whitby, but this time it doesn't really need to be a raid at all when someone he'd raided before getting his own ship recognises him.

/\/\

Eddie regarded the coastline they were fast approaching in curiosity and fascination. He knew it was a profitable stop, with plenty of wealthy folks to steal from and profit off, but it was also one of the most unpredictable towns they ever stopped at, and something had clearly been happening recently.

He could see the marks left from where a ship had crashed recently, and was fairly sure he was seeing the actual repairs being done also. To most sailors it would be nothing, just an accident or a new sailor overestimating how he needed to leave the port. To Eddie it was ominous, a reminder that Whitby had more than expected occurring in it than other English towns and the quaintness everyone back home attributed to these ports, here at least, was a thin mask nobody should try to look through.

“Prepare to enter port!” The call came from Gareth just behind him, echoed among the crew.

“And remember, when in Whitby what don't we do?” Eddie called as the ship adjusted course for the entrance.

“Never follow animals strange,

No drugs help what they rearrange.

Check the strangers coming near,

If uncertain, escape in fear.

Prepare for gifts to change in time,

Whitby keeps transformations in line.

Flowers can share a pretty tune,

But double check they leave no rune.”

The poem is sung back to him among laughs from his crew. They all thought it was a joke, something to laugh about, all except Gareth and Jeff who'd visited the town with Eddie many times before.

Locals were nodding at the words now they were close enough in to be heard.

Entering in daylight might seem odd for pirates to do but Eddie felt safer ensuring that at least their arrival wouldn't be subject to the bending reality that happened from early afternoon till night. It did however mean they had to follow the regulations and restrictions as well as pay for their ships placement. Eddie had insisted it was worth it for safety when a few of the crew argued it as a waste of their takings.

“Good advice, you going to share that song around the ships you leave floating?” One of the harbour masters calls, catching a rope Eddie tried to throw around a bollard to help pull them in. The man's clothes looked brand new and his hair was styled in a way only the wealthy could manage, but his movements spoke of familiarity with his job. It was an entrancing mix that had Eddie trying to figure out why a noble would be working here until his words registered.

“You mean the ships we trade with?” Eddie asked cautiously. If this man knew or recognised him or his ship as connecting to pirates he might have just found an excuse to avoid Whitby entirely, no matter how much he wanted to get to know him better.

The harbour master scoffed, shaking his head and calling over his shoulder for someone called Robin to come help him guide the ship in. “Not likely, but I get you wanting to say that. We're not going to say anything. Actually I want you to leave with more of my parents stuff than you did last time. Best thing ever done for me and I was stupid enough to ask why you were there.”

That struck a memory in Eddie's mind, years ago, before he'd taken his own ship, he'd been found in one of the town houses of the wealthy. The man looked gorgeous in the daylight where his features had been obscured by darkness and twisted by flickering candlelight on their first meeting. “Didn't expect there to be anything left in that town house. Most people move their holiday homes to other coastal towns once pirates steal from them.”

“Apparently not the Harrington's. They just leave me behind with demands to earn my own way and protect their furniture: Robin and I have checked, apparently they had gold coins sewn into some of it and more paintings hiding safes than any nefarious organisation. Come for tea and we'll start getting stuff moved aboard.” The offer seemed genuine, but Eddie still had the song in his mind, even as they worked together to get the ship tied in and boarding plank secure.

He shook his head. “Nice offer, stranger, but harbour master or not, I'm not accepting an offer like that, especially when you clearly recognise me but have given no name except one you don't seem to identify with.”

“I'm Steve, and it's probably better you and your crew do regardless. The Demeter crashed with her Captain dead, tied to the wheel. No one has figured out what happened aboard it except that its cargo was taken for final delivery before the constable could argue it as evidence.” Steve introduced, hopping aboard now and pulling out the paperwork Eddie had expected to have mentioned sooner. “I'll cover your fees whatever, and get it if you all prefer to guard your ship after that news.”

Eddie's back straightened, looking Steve over, before glancing back at his crew. He knew what types of things could do that, and was glad the warnings against strangers was already in the song if one had made it to this cursed town. “You're in the Harrington house? I'll talk with the crew and walk anyone willing to stay with you over this evening. It's best to stay in groups.”

“I'll be waiting by the door.” Steve laughed, accepting the now filled out paperwork back and waving as he left.

Before Eddie could actually start gathering his crew to share the information, a cheer rang out. On the starboard side most of the crew were hanging over the edge watching something, except the pair used to Whitby, who were closer to the captain and glancing over warily. “It's nothing to worry over yet, Captain. Just a caucus race.” Jeff muttered.

“And a few invites for tea from the mice as they ran off. It's nice that for a while we'll have a rodent free ship.” Gareth added, nodding further along the path where indeed a group of mice was running on only their back legs, grabbing rubbish and holding it up to see if it could become clothing as they went.

Eddie let out a heavy sigh. “We're definitely back in Whitby again. Apparently a monster of some kind is in town also. The ship you can see signs of crashing apparently crashed with the captain dead but tied to the wheel and no other crew aboard it. Steve offered to let us all stay with him, as well as steal everything from his home too.”

Jeff grinned, reaching out to tap Eddie gently, “Including himself?”

“Give over.”

/\/\

Eddie expected it from the moment they decided to raid Whitby. He knew something weird was coming.

He was not expecting to leave his cabin after planning with Gareth whether they should do more of a raid or just accept all the wealth Steve was willing to give them.

Earlier his crew had mostly decided to remain on the ship and Jeff had volunteered to explain more about Whitby as second mate while Gareth and Eddie did their planning. Now, well, now Eddie was pretty certain he wasn't the only one resolute on staying in the Harrington house until they were ready to leave.

Jeff had about half the crew behind him, swords and daggers in everyone's hands and pointed to the boarding plank. Further back on the ship was the rest of the crew, some pointing their weapons behind them, at a floating, grinning cats head, the rest pointing their weapons at the boarding plank.

“Captain! What do we do?” One of the men called over, moving as if to run over to him but stopped by Jeff moving his blade to block them.

“Stay in your groups, and focus on the stranger.” Eddie ordered. “Cheshire, are you just here to hang around or is there something you need?”

The cat's grin widened. “We're keeping an eye on your visitor. It's odd that he's come to you. He's been focusing on a lady visiting until now.”

“How lucky for us.” Eddie commented with a roll of his eyes. “You, who are you and why are you here?”

The stranger stepped closer. “I want passage to London from someone who won't ask questions.” Behind him an orange glow moved, a person deciding to carry their own lamp rather than just going about their evening walk by the street lamps.

“We're the wrong ship for you to chose then.” Eddie laughed, an imitation of the cruel laughter he heard merchants do moments before all their profits were lost to Eddie's crew. “Get off my ship or we'll dice you into mincemeat.”

An echoing laugh met his, the stranger straightening where he stood. “No I think you will accept me as a passenger for the wealth I can offer you.”

It was then that Eddie noticed two things, first was that this stranger, as dangerous as he seemed hadn't actually come onto his ship yet, and second the person with the lamp was now also on the boarding plank. He wasn't sure if they were friend or foe but the lamp held above the strangers head held threat, especially if the method of attack was burning the stranger. He still decided to say nothing about them.

“Got a pretty big offer for wealth already. Now I've stated my refusal of your passage and you can't change my mind. Leave.” He repeated the refusal, stepping forwards and finally drawing his own sword.

He'd had it blessed in one of the countries they moved between. Eddie had always been one for learning local stories and whether real or not would thank people for them by agreeing to take or buy whatever safety or luck charms were offered.

The blade had the stranger stumbling back so Eddie was inclined to believe the blessing had been legitimate. He was also inclined to rush over and grab Steve in a hug as before the fire from his lamp getting dropped on the stranger's head could reach the boarding plank or the ship he'd shoved them over into the water.

It meant the stranger would almost definitely survive to torment someone else, but at least that someone else wouldn't be Eddie or his crew.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” Eddie asked, refusing to let the other go and ignoring that it was probably uncomfortable and definitely a breach of social etiquette for such recent acquaintances.

Steve just laughed, “You never brought anyone to stay or even to tell me you preferred to stay on the ship. I thought Whitby had gotten to you.”

“Captain, is this the gentleman who offered for us to stay with him?” Gareth asked, clearing his throat and already knowing the answer. “Because I think after that situation, we'd all quite like to accept his offer.”

“Of course, come on. If your Captain will let me down, I'll lead you there. Does anyone need to grab anything before we set off?” Steve easily agreed, only tapping Eddie's shoulder but not actually trying to escape his hold.

Eddie shook his head into Steve's shoulder. “In the stealing from the Harrington's offer, does that include taking you with me when we leave?” He mumbled, not meaning to say it now, but after having Steve inadvertently save them he wasn't going to hold back the offer.

“Sure it does, but that's for talking about in a house with fires going if we aren't staying on your ship.” The words were enough Eddie let Steve go, searching his expression for sincerity which was all he saw, until a mischievous grin formed. “And kidnapping Robin. She'll come after us with murderous intent if only I'm taken.”

Eddie nodded, but another member of his crew clearing their throat reminded him they were meant to be heading back to the Harrington house. “Then lead the way.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #alice in wonderland references #dracula references #pirate au #does this count as #crack fic #steddie

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odeurderaclette · 1 year ago

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youtube

#eddy mitchell #Alice #alice au pays des merveilles #alice in wonderland #french #chanson française #vintage #rétro #is it about drugs?#Youtube

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marinerainbow · 1 year ago

Note

Kitty being asked which animated girl she feels like most and is like "Umm...Alice I guess, walking through Wonderland." And Smartass quips she's more like the Ugly Duckling and when she gets mad at him he's like "Heeeey, he becomes a swan in the end don't he?"

Eddie Valiant won't say it to her face but the girl's definetly more of "a hard ass Mary Poppins."

Aw, Smartass, you're getting better at complimenting people! ^^

I agree with Eddie and Kitty though. She's both Alice wandering through the crazy world of Toontown, and she's also a tough but caring person like Mary Poppins ^^

#asks #other peoples oc's #Smartass Weasel #Eddie Valient #WFRR #Who Framed Roger Rabbit #toon patrol #disney #disney villains #ohhh imagina an Alice in Wonderland AU with Kitty as Alice!#maybe Poppy or Roger could be the white rabbit she chases (Poppy's fretful nature would match the white rabbits character more i think)#maybe the Toon Patrol could be split between the Cheshire Cat the Mad Hatter and the March Hare?#what do you think?

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thefreakandthehair · 2 months ago

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mistletoe.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: mistletoe | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: alternate universe- no upside down, alternate universe- flower shop au, eddie pov, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, confident!steve harrington, fluff, getting together, first kiss, background buckingham mention

It’s chaos.

Clippings, and rogue petals, and ribbons that still need to be tied into bows as far as the eye can see. Long tables lined with crinkling plastic to protect the aged wood take up the center of the room, and somewhere off in the distance, Eddie can hear Chrissy on the phone with what sounds like a disgruntled, last-minute customer.

“... Sir, it’s December. Most of our poinsettias have been reserved for weeks. We have two left that we can give you. You can have them, or you can—”

Eddie’s sure Chrissy’s about to kindly tell the phone stranger to go fuck himself and he couldn’t be prouder of how far she’s come, really, but he loses the thread on the conversation when Steve bustles in from the back.

“How many carnations does one middle school Winter Wonderland dance need, anyways? Are there even this many kids in the town?” In his warm, forest green jacket and black beanie with wind-flushed cheeks and rosy nose, Steve exhales and sets the box of carnations down on the counter.

“Enough to pay the rent this month with carnations alone, apparently,” Eddie jokes, tapping Steve’s jean-clad shin with the toe of his boot. “We’ll be here all night doing these ribbons, won’t we?”

He tries to make it sound like a chore, like something he hasn’t been looking forward to since Chrissy told them she had a date and couldn’t stay. Any amount of alone time with Steve is welcome, even if it means tying tiny bows on small carnations and pricking his finger a hundred times with the stupid little pins.

“Probably, yeah,” Steve shrugs with a smile. “It’s not so bad though, right?”

“Not at all.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming.

When Chrissy wraps up her part— invoices, confirmations, and all of the paperwork shit that Eddie and Steve are better off leaving to Chrissy— she practically skips out of the office with a wave and a smirk.

“You do know that if she and Robin hit it off, this is gonna be a regular thing, right?” Eddie jokes, hoisting himself up to sit on one of the tables and grabbing a ribbon to wrap around another flower.

“Robin hasn’t stopped talking about Chrissy for months. This is going to be our life, Ed. Mark my words.” Steve laughs with Eddie’s favorite crooked smile, the one that only ever seems to be targeted at him.

He tries not to let Steve’s phrasing dig its claws too deep into his lovestruck brain, but our life wiggles its way in regardless.

Eddie looks around and takes in all of the fine details— a half-eaten bag of plain chips, two cans of coke, carnations and ribbons strewn about in somewhat orderly piles. Chrissy left the radio on when she left, the station alternating between the top hits and classic holiday songs, and Steve bobs his head to Wham!’s Last Christmas.

This could be their life; not just the tumultuous riptide of highs and lows, but all of the mundane minutiae in between.

Eddie and Steve.

EddieandSteve.

“You okay? Stab your thumb again?” Steve asks, tearing Eddie from his reverie.

“Yes, and actually, yes,” Eddie laughs, breathy through his nose, and wipes his thumb on his jeans. Before Steve can grab his hand and check him over, and probably push Eddie over the edge into doing something incredibly fucking stupid in the process, he brushes it off. “It’s fine. Let's get these bitches done.”

Hours pass, quickly and comfortably, and they eventually tie their last ribbon.

“We did it, Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie celebrates, hopping off of the table and tossing the last carnation into the box. “Do you still have skin on your fingers? I don’t think I have fingerprints anymore.”

“Now would be the time to go commit some crimes,” Steve snorts, his nose wrinkling, and Eddie wants to kiss him right on the mouth. “Before you head out though, I uh, I think we forgot one. Close your eyes for a second.”

“What?”

“Just close your eyes? Please?”

Eddie does as Steve asks because he’s helpless to not, his brows knitting together in confusion because closed eyes. He hears rustling and the sound of scissors snipping ribbon. What’s so special about this carnation? What’s so secretive that Eddie has to close his eyes and miss valuable alone time with Steve? Doesn’t Steve get it? Every second with his eyes closed are seconds he doesn’t get to stare.

Steve’s stool slides against the tile floor, scraping as Eddie feels Steve standing closer. Close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against him when he says, “Okay, open your eyes.”

In front of him is Steve Harrington, his favorite smile, and wide, hesitant eyes holding a hastily tied together bundle of mistletoe just above their heads.

“I know it’s not Christmas yet or anything, but I couldn’t wait.”

“You’re not fucking with me?” Eddie asks, heart clattering in his chest as hope gouges its way out of its deepest recesses.

“Definitely not. I really like you, maybe more, and I know I didn’t have to wait for some big moment but tonight, just the two of us, it felt right. If I’m wrong, I’ll chuck this in the garbage and we can never bring it up again but—”

Eddie launches himself at Steve, both arms wrapping around Steve’s neck.

Maybe he should’ve taken it slower— maybe their first kiss should’ve been patient, tender— but he’ll have other opportunities to show him the softness he deserves. Instead, Eddie kisses Steve just like he’s fallen in love with him: spontaneously, impulsively, urgently. Steve drops the thicket of branches and pulls him in closer, one hand balling the edge of Eddie’s shirt up in a fist by his hip and the other cupping the back of Eddie’s head, meeting his intensity wordlessly.

Through the murky daze of Steve’s lips against his, Eddie hopes that this is their life.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steddieholidaydrabbles #myblurbs #inspired by my husband's family owning the local flower shop #(please do not expect your local florist to pull poinsettias outta their asses)

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ladykailitha · 1 month ago

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To Christmases Yet to Come

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

Starting with last year's Christmas story! You can read the first chapter here (and it has links to all seven other chapters) and it's New Year's Eve sequel here.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

Eddie tugged on his necktie and gulped.

“Who’s bright idea was it to get married on Christmas?” he whined, his nerves reaching a fever pitch.

Wayne swatted his hands away and fixed the tie. “Yours. And Steve’s. It was a joint decision and you would not be swayed.”

Eddie turned to look at him with a quivering lip. “I just wanted today to be the extra, mostest, best day ever. The day we got together and the day we got married all in one.” He linked his fingers together.

“I know, son,” Wayne said gently, “and everything is going to be fine. You have so many capable people out there handling everything so you and Steve can have the best day.”

There was a knock on the door and Chrissy slipped into the room. “All right, it’s time. Steve is waiting for you.”

Eddie was going to walked down the aisle by Wayne and Chrissy. Steve having already been walked down the aisle by Claudia to stand in as his mom and Robin. On Eddie side of the alter were Jeff, Brian, and Gareth, with Chrissy as his maid of honor. On Steve’s side of the alter were Dustin, Lucas, and Will. Mike could only make it to the reception because he had a deadline for his latest book by the end of the year. Robin was his best soulmate. Best woman or maid didn’t sound right to anyone.

Eddie took a deep breath and the doors to the garden opened and he was suddenly glad Wayne and Chrissy were on either side of him because his knees gave way when he say the painting above the alter. Will’s wedding present. It was of the yellow dragon, in human form but the silhouette of the dragon behind him facing the black knight from Eddie’s Christmas present to Steve last year. It was beautiful. Steve had surprised him again.

The wedding went off without a hitch. There were a lot of happy tears as Eddie and Steve walked back up the aisle, hand in hand with handfuls of white confetti floating down on them like snow.

As they sat at the head table, their friends and family gathered around them, Eddie leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“Every day I’m grateful you chose to be brave and slip that business card into the mail slot for Chrissy to find.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “Me too. I’m grateful to her for letting you come to the meeting and I’m grateful to you for accepting the commission.”

Eddie raised his glass of champagne and clinked it against Steve’s. “Here’s to all the Christmases with you, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled as he took a sip of his own champagne. “To Christmases yet to come, Eds.”

They kissed gently as all around them friends and family celebrated their union. Later Steve’s mom would get wind of it and try any means necessary to show her disapproval, but he just blocked what ever avenue she tried. Because Claudia was happy for him and that was all the mom he was ever going to need.

And they lived happily ever after.

Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #the 12 aus of christmas

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lemonisntreal · 3 months ago

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My thoughts on Sing: Thriller! [finally]

I just want to vomit out some of the things on my mind because ohhh my god, do I have THOUGHTS-

Also! Link here to the short, for the people who want / need it 👍

NO WAY

THE BASTARD LIVES???

THE MIKE FANS WERE ACTUALLY RIGHT????

It wasn't just copium!

Kinda off topic, but this is getting me thinking on how different sized animal's seats are priced. Because they only grabbed one ticket I think, so I think they're literally sharing a seat [WHICH IS CUTE]. But does this mean that bigger animals need to buy more than one ticket? Or are all the seats just ridiculously big? Or am I crazy?

Also thinking of that one scene in Spongebob where Plankton gets sat on by Bubble Bass 😭

Tiny blurry Mike hehe looks like found footage

RAHHHHH

RAHHHHHHHH

Me when I see my fav for 2 seconds with zero speaking lines

Nana is eating also holy shit

EATING 👹

Also Eddie guiding her by the hand is sweet, I love their relationship so much aaywusjhisajhajk

He has such an obviously better relationship with her than he does his actual parents and I'm eating it upppppp

The "How hard can it be to fix a stupid tire anyway???" line was so aggressive, I'm taking this as character development !

She's an actually amazing actor in-universe and I love that

Meena Sweep

Also this set is clean as fuckkk- also a lot more realistic, but still very not LMAO

Also he's DOING A JIG AAA

The crunchy version is for my enjoyment specifically

HOLY SHIT I WAS REFERENCED /j

Also also.

Both GMO and Alice in Wonderland were really short plays from what we see, but I actually do think that this isn't how it actually goes in canon. When they're on the bus in Sing 2, the script looks pretty thick for one. And two- why would anyone pay for tickets for 4 minutes of show?

Like it just makes sense, you gotta understand my reasoning.

They couldn't put the whole 2 hours of play in the actual films, but I like to believe that's actually how it goes

That there's some story and depth to it as well [💀]

Reference. For later.

THE WAY HIS FACE SCRUNCHES DUDE DUDEUDUED

Meena Gunter and Ash are absolutely partying in the back bro

I wonder how often Meena finds herself in cars. Because like there's size, but also we know she just takes the bus everywhere. I don't think her family has a car, they all feel like they utilize public transit instead

Cars that are modified for bigger and smaller animals are probably more expensive and not mass-manufactured either

Not just height but weight limit is also something that needs to be kept in mind. Elephants are like a few thousand pounds.

I think it's just easier to have modified public transit rather than modified individual cars for that kind of load. I bet public transit has way more funding in the Sing universe because of this need too. Because there's also Rhinos, and Hippos, and Giraffes-

I'm getting lost in the sauce again.

HER NOSE SCRUNCH

She was AT that door. First one there, bouncing with excitement. Adorable. I wish Clay had speaking lines with her in this AGH

REFERENCE.

girl what the fuck are you doing here, your ass was NOT invited ‼️

The Infection AU would go CRAZY

Somebody needs to make that rightttt now, actually

I'm giving it some thought right now and how with a few tweaks this could be cool. Like I'd definitely make it so there were different phases, like the MLP AUs. And I'd keep the hivemind thing definitely, because I think that adds an extra terrifying aspect to it

Probably make the ooze stuff look more messy, eyes would be leaking the stuff, mouth.

Idk I'm just spitballing LMAO

The dog from under the table is actually terrifying

Rare sighting of angry Meena

ALSO WHY-

I have a complaint.

Why were they dancing.

For a full minute. With nothing.

No singing. Just instrumental. It dragged on for so insanely long. Like that's my one complaint about this short, is that the pacing is just absolute dogshit after they all get possessed. You can give me a Thriller reprise without making it look super awkward and boring. Why couldn't this have been a cool chase scene instead? Like actually keep up that tension you established?? Because like Crawly and Buster are just STANDING there now, and it's just like-

And then the actual chase is over so fast

Man.

HE'S SO STUPID LOOKING I'M GONNA CRY [positive]

the Borb....... [Buster orb]

I hate the "it was all a dream!" trope but I can't really be mad

I saw it coming from a mile away, and I'm honestly glad because it means that this isn't canon and we don't have to deal with random zombie shenanigans in the actual lore

Or maybe not because Crawly was literally possessed at the end but whatever. Not canon.

My final thoughts are that this was really solid! I feel well fed and very happy to get some new content of the sillies. I will most likely be drawing lots of Thriller stuff because WOW were some of those shots pretty. Overall, critically? C+ short [mostly due to that minute of almost nothing happening]. But my enjoyment level puts the grade at a B+ for me so [B is for Biased].

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lovemesomeeddiemunson · 7 months ago

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The Proposal - Part 2

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Modern Au, Part 2 of 7. 4252 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Eventual sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack. Minor spoilers for Flight of Icarus.

Authors Note: It should be noted that this is a fully completed fic, I've just broken it up for ease of posting. I can be motivated to post faster, if readers find themselves engaged.

Also, credit and praise to @steddiecameraroll-graphics for the D20 crown header used from here on out - fyi, I’m obsessed.

Additional thanks and love to @be-my-wonderland for her help with the Italian translations.

When Eddie and Steve arrive at the immigration office, Steve immediately bullies his way past the line and to the front counter.

Charming the disgruntled with carefully placed Italian, he offers more than one apologetic “Mi scusi,” the words flowing from his lips with a smile that makes several people swoon...

Eddie may or not be among them.

Once Steve’s secured his standing in line with his ill-gotten means, he then directs that same charm to the employee working the counter as he tells her, “I need you to file this fiancé visa for me, please.”

After taking and looking over his file, the older woman addresses him, with an inquisitive, “Mr. Harrington?”

“Yes.” Steve nods.

She gestures for him and Eddie both to follow her, pushing her glasses up her nose as she instructs. “Please come with me.”

As they leave the front counter, she leads them into an office where Eddie sits down as they wait by themselves. Steve’s still standing, lurking over by the door, glued to his phone, typing like there’s no tomorrow.

Business as usual, his fiancé is. A thought that unsettles Eddie even more deeply as he whispers “I have a bad feeling.”

His words precede a slight commotion outside, where both men can hear bantering coming closer to where they wait.

The woman who had brought them in earlier appears to be conversing with an absolute mountain of a man, who can be heard insisting, “Flo we’ve discussed this…mornings are for coffee and contemplation…coffee and contemplation!”

Yanking open his office door to deal with his uninvited guests, Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. With a donut and a coffee in hand, the immigration officer crosses the room as he greets them with a flat tone.

Introduces, “Hello. I’m Jim Hopper.” As he moves to sit behind the desk, setting his pastry and coffee down and scratching at the scruff of his beard. “And you must be Steve and Eddie. Sorry about the wait.”

He lets out a small chuckle, before letting the file he holds fall onto his desk with no care at all, dismisses, “It’s a crazy day today. You know.”

“Oh, of course, of course. We understand.” Steve has lowered his phone, but still cradles it in his hands as he spouts nonsense. “And I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.”

Steve smiles at him, and Hopper smiles back. Both of them are as fake as the plastic chair that Eddie’s sweating into.

“Okay.” Hopper gets right to it then, looking over the file briefly. “So,” He flips it shut with a noisy snap. “I just have one question for you.”

Uh-oh.

Eddie decidedly does not like the sound of that, trying to keep his expression neutral. Unsure if he’s succeeding.

“Are you both committing fraud to avoid his deportation so he can keep his job as a music producer?” Hopper asks sternly, looking pointedly at Eddie.

“Where did— Where did you hear that?” Eddie finds himself asking instead of answering, while Steve makes a sound that sounds scandalized at the suggestion.

Oscar worthy. Truly.

“We had a phone tip this afternoon from a man named…” Hopper starts, looking down at his notes as Steve dramatically sighs, interrupting Hopper with a sympathetic smile.

“Would it be a William Hargrove?” He asks him.

Hopper looks back up at them, “Billy Hargrove.” He finishes.

Steve shakes his head sadly. “Oh, Billy. Poor Billy. I’m so sorry.” Steve frowned, “Billy is nothing but a disgruntled former employee, and I apologize…But we know you’re incredibly busy with a long line of people to tend to. If you’ll just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way.”

“Mr. Harrington, please.” Hopper gestures for him to take a seat. Steve does so warily.

“Let me explain to you the process that’s about to unfold.” Hopper leans on his desk as the men both nod.

“Step one will be a scheduled interview. I’ll put you each in a room, and I’ll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other.” He explains. As if that’s the easy part. “Step two, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, I interview your co-workers.” He’s almost glaring at them now.

“If your answers don’t match up at every point,” He points at Steve, “You will be deported indefinitely.” He turns to Eddie, “And you, young man, will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of $250,000. And a stay of five years in a federal prison.” He finishes.

Eddie glances out the window of the office then, catching the sight of a handcuffed woman who protests loudly as she is escorted out of the building. Good God.

Eddie can’t go to jail. He might look scary, but he’s not fit for prison.

“So, Eddie.” Hopper continues, the other man’s eyes snapping towards him as Eddie inclines his head.

“You wanna… you want to talk to me?” Hopper smiles, even winks at him, knowingly.

Eddie’s mind moves a mile a minute - he calculates, recalculates, and then he shakes his head in answer.

“No?” Hopper confirms.

Another head shake. “Well, not no…” Eddie clears his throat, “The truth is…”

Steve’s eyes widen as he looks at Eddie.

This is it. No turning back now. Eddie clears his throat, “Mr. Hopper, the truth is… Steve and I…” He turns to Steve, meeting his eyes, “…are just two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love… but we did.”

Steve smiles at him in relief, nodding, before looking back at Hopper through his lashes.

Eddie goes on. “We couldn’t tell anyone we work with, because of the record deal.”

Steve’s expression flickers with surprise as the immigration officer probes, “Record deal?”

Eddie nods, “Yeah.”

“Your…?” Steve asks, staring him down.

Eddie beams at him. “We…We both felt that it would be deeply inappropriate, if I were to be offered a record deal while still holding the title of Steve’s executive assistant…”

Steve huffs, masking it with a cough.

“But with the wedding,” Eddie emphasizes the word for Steve’s benefit. A mild threat. “Coming up - well, I’m not going to be Steve’s assistant anymore. Right sweetheart?” He looks at his boss.

Steve is smiling, but there’s nothing behind his eyes. He’s trapped him.

Good.

“Yes.” Steve grits out.

Hopper clicks his pen. Seemingly satisfied. “So…Have the two of you told your parents about your secret love?”

“Oh…” Steve laughed, “Impossible. My parents and I haven’t spoken in six years. Not since they found out I was bisexual and kicked me out of the house.”

Eddie can’t help but glance at him. The way he says it so casually, the laugh that comes with it, how easy it was to say for him. Like it didn’t hurt…but Eddie knows better.

He finds himself taking Steve’s hand. Squeezing it. He thinks it’s the first time he’s ever intentionally touched Steve. It’s exhilarating. Especially when Steve looks down at the touch all soft, as if in awe.

“No brothers or sisters either.” Steve nods, like it’s nothing, like it’s not a big deal that he has no family to speak of. Hopper clocks it, hums softly. Asks Eddie, “And what about your family?”

“Mom passed. Dad is M.I.A.” He too tries to be casual. He can’t tell if he does it spectacularly or not, because Steve offers no condolence squeeze of his own, though he hasn’t dropped his hand. “I have an uncle though who may as well be my father...Despite accusing me for a very long time of wanting Steve, he doesn’t know that we uh, got together.”

Steve doesn’t like the look that Hopper gets when Eddie reveals that a man who may as well be his father wouldn’t be privy to such big news, and quickly interjects, “We’re actually going to tell him this weekend.”

Eddie whips his head at Steve at that. He can’t be serious.

“It’s his 65th birthday, and we wanted to be there.” Steve explains. “We thought it’d be a nice surprise…and uh, as Eddie mentioned, he did suspect at least Eddie’s feelings for…quite a while.” Steve chuckles.

Eddie wonders if Steve knows that his words ring with a word of truth, nonetheless perturbed at the implication, even as he watches his boss lie with so much ease.

Hopper smirks, “And where is this surprise gonna take place?”

“Eddie’s uncle’s home.” Steve gives Eddie a subtle glance, asking for assistance.

“Where is that located again?” Hopper presses on.

“Um…” Steve scoffs with a laugh. charmingly unprepared as he fixates on Eddie with a little quip of, “Why am I doing all the talking? It’s your uncle. Why don’t you tell him where he lives? Jump in.”

Eddie grins sadistically, doing as he’s asked with glee. “Hawkins.”

“Hawkins.” Steve confirms, looking back at Hopper.

“Indiana.” Eddie finishes with a smile.

“Indiana.” Steve repeats, and abruptly turns to him in surprise. Eddie is already looking back at him, giving his boss the sweetest smile he can muster.

“Hawkins, Indiana. Real small-town America.” Eddie’s smile widens, sweetens.

“You’re gonna go to Indiana this weekend?” Hopper repeats, his doubts obvious.

Steve nods, voice pained. “Yes.”

“Yeah.” Eddie adds.

“We are going to Indiana. That’s where my little… that’s where my Eddie is from.” Steve is clearly thrown, and Eddie almost laughs in delight.

Hopper sighs, “Okay. Fine. I see how this is gonna go. I will see you both…in two weeks.” He rips a piece of notepad to scribble on it, “At 11am, for your scheduled interview, and your answers better match up.”

Hopper stands then, prompting both of them to do the same. They realize they are still holding hands, and drop them quickly.

Steve’s already on his phone saying hello to someone as Eddie takes the piece of paper from Hopper with their scribbled appointment.

“Thank you.” He says, pocketing it as the officer teases him, “I’m looking forward to this one.”

“We’re looking forward to this one.” Eddie replies as Steve greets the caller with an excited tone, waving a dismissive goodbye to Hopper and fleeing the room.

“It’s gonna be fun! I’ll be checking up on you.” Hopper calls after them.

By the time they’ve spilled out onto the street, and escaped the scrutiny of the feds, Steve is off the phone call, barking orders.

“Okay, so, what’s gonna happen is we will go over there. We will pretend that we have been dating, tell your uncle that we’re engaged.” Steve continues to look at his screen, as if it’s all so simple. Making plans. “Use the miles for the tickets. First class, but make sure you use the miles. If we don’t get the miles, we’re not doing it. Oh! And confirm the vegan meal, okay? Because last time they gave it to an actual vegan, and they forced me to eat this gross salad thing, which was…”

Trailing off, Steve looks up from his phone, blinking when he sees Eddie not taking him as seriously as he should be. “Hey, why aren’t you taking notes?”

“I’m sorry, were you not in that room?” Eddie points his thumb at the building.

“What? What?” Steve asks, looking genuinely confused as to what he’s worried about.

Eddie blinks. Waits. It clicks a moment later.

“Oh! The thing you said about a record deal?” Steve nods with a smirk, “Genius! He completely fell for it!”

“I was serious.” Eddie clenches his jaw, “I’m looking at a $250,000 fine and five years in jail. That changes things.”

Steve makes a face, “A record deal? No way.”

“Then I quit, and you’re screwed. Goodbye Stevie, it really has been a little slice of heaven.” Eddie starts to walk away.

“Eddie!” Steve calls back, chasing after him and oh boy does Eddie like that feeling. “Eddie! Eddie! Fine! Fine.” The other man halts, and turns back to face Steve.

“I’ll give you a record deal. Fine.” Steve nods, agreeing to his terms even if it kills him. “If you go through with this weekend, the interview, and the wedding, I will give you a record deal. Happy?”

“Not in two years. Right away.” Eddie counters back, Steve rolls his eyes with a sharp breath.

“Fine.” He huffs.

“And you’ll give me complete creative control.” He adds.

Steve pauses, looking baffled and conflicted, “Eddie…”

“Complete creative control, or I walk.” Eddie continues, “Also, we’ll tell my uncle about our engagement when I want and how I want. If I have to add lying to the man who saved my life in addition to this fucking shit show, then I want to do it on my own terms.” He feels really fucking good right now. Powerful even. So he demands, “Now, ask me nicely.”

Steve stares at him, “Ask you nicely what?”

Eddie smirks, “Ask me nicely to marry you, Steve.”

“What?” He wrinkles his nose and Eddie shows his teeth. “You heard me. On your knees.”

“Here?” Steve’s voice breaks and Eddie snickers, crossing his arms. Waits.

“Fine.” His boss finally grits out, kneeling down and holding out his hand expectantly for Eddie’s. Eddie is pleased, giving it over with a little wiggle of his fingers.

He’s kneeling like a beggar and not someone proposing, with both of his legs tucked under him, scowling so pretty that Eddie can’t stand it as Steve snarks, “Does this work for you?”

“Oh, yeah. I like this.” Eddie nods in reply, smug, thinking to himself that Steve never needs to know exactly how much.

Steve is glaring daggers as he asks him flatly, “Will you marry me?”

Eddie offers a small shake of his head in answer. “No.” He’s firm. “Say it nicely. Say it like you mean it.”

Steve breathes deeply, trying again, slowly drawing out his name as he asks, “Eddie,”

“Yes, Steve?” Eddie smiles down at him.

“Eddie, my darling Eddie.” Eddie has to ignore the way his voice lowers, pleading and yet commanding in a way that would have their roles reversed - Eddie on his knees - in a second. His answering tone he just manages to keep indifferent. “I’m listening.”

“Would you, please, pretty please, with cherries on top, marry me?” Steve pouts, and his lips are so lush that Eddie might actually die.

Instead of doing that, or something equally embarrassing, Eddie purses his own lips, looking up, pretending that he’s thinking it over when really he’s trying to expel the mental image of Steve Harrington, evil incarnate, down on his knees for him.

He caves then. “Okay. I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll do it. Check your email for the travel arrangements.”

Eddie turns to walk away, and then he pauses, turning back around.

“You know, that reminds me.” He grins wickedly. “You’ve never seen me outside of my work attire before.”

Steve looks wary, slowly rising from the ground and dusting himself off. “No, I have not.”

Eddie cackles. “Oh, Stevie, this is going to be so much fun. I’ll see you at the airport - I’ll be the one in black.”

Eddie is wearing black, to be fair.

Painted on his nails without fear for the first time in six years.

While previously he had always taken it off with remover before heading into the office on a Monday morning - or heading to do Steve’s errands on the weekend…Now he didn’t bother to conceal it.

Why would he? When he and Steve were so “happily engaged.”

So, yes. His nails are black. His jeans are black, ripped, a metal chain hanging from them with his old Hellfire Club shirt tucked in. Atop it he wears his black leather jacket, and his denim vest covered in hand-sewed patches. All of his rings adorn his fingers as he bounces on his white-Reebok clad feet.

Eyes peeled for Steve’s arrival, he’s positively giddy when the car he’d ordered approaches the curb.

Waving it down, he greeted Steve’s chauffeur through the passenger window before going and opening Steve’s door himself.

Once he does so, he makes a big show of kissing Steve’s hand as he pulls him from the town car, his boss’s jaw going slack at the sight of him as he exits it and rises to his full height, taking in Eddie’s appearance.

For a second.

And then he composes himself, snatching his hand so he can rip the sunglasses off of his face and tuck them frantically into the collar of his dress shirt.

“You can’t be serious.” He says.

Eddie stands his ground, taking a step back with a smile and extending the handle to the small suitcase he had with him on the curb with a click. “As the plague, baby.”

Steve looks like he’s questioning his life choices - until Eddie turns to head to the terminal. “You’ll want to grab your things and hurry along, dear. We still have to check in.”

Surprised, Steve grabs his bags - way too many for a weekend trip but not if you weren’t expecting to have to carry them yourself - and scrambles after Eddie.

He’s clearly pissed when he catches up, his hands full as he reminds Eddie pointedly. “I am still your boss.”

And, okay, yeah. So Eddie may have been pushing his luck lately. He was dependent on Steve to some degree in this arrangement as well, and it would definitely be worth it for the two of them to sit and hash out how their being fiancés would change their dynamic.

Soon. For now, Eddie grabs the bags. “I am nothing if not a good employee to my future husband.” He defends.

Steve forges on, unamused. They get through the check-in, and then they have some time to kill as Eddie settles his nerves with a rum and coke, courtesy of the private bar in the first class lounge.

Before he can even move to pay for it, Steve slides his Black card over. Feeling generous it seems.

Eddie looks at him doubtfully, arms crossed as he leans over the bar. Steve isn’t smiling, just shrugs and explains only for him to hear. “My man wouldn’t have to pay for things.”

Surprised, Eddie takes his drink, rings clinking against the glass, unsure of what to say before Steve is leaving his orbit, wrapped up in his phone once again.

Eddie nurses the liquor until it’s time for them to board, finding their plush first class seats and settling into them, taking in all the amenities with barely contained awe.

Steve watches Eddie shed his denim vest and his leather jacket, getting comfortable and revealing the tattoos along his forearms, and he feels his mouth go dry. He swallows as he stares at his phone screen, unseeing.

Once he has to stow it, their phones set to airplane mode, Eddie commands Steve’s attention, pulling out a booklet.

“So, these are the questions that INS is gonna ask us.” Eddie says in explanation, “The good news is, I know everything about you, but the bad news is that you have two weeks to learn all this about me. So, you should…probably study.”

Steve takes the booklet, skimming over it on his own, flipping through its pages, “You know the answers to all of these questions about me?” He presses.

“Scary, isn’t it?” Eddie grins.

“A little bit.” Steve replies, looking through them for a stumbling block before he quizzes his fake fiance. “What am I allergic to?”

“Latex.” Eddie declares, no doubt at all in his voice, “And displays of emotion in the workplace.”

“Haha. That’s so funny.” Steve rolls his eyes. A little miffed that he got it right.

“Uhm… Here’s a good one.” Steve folds the booklet, “Do I have any scars?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.” Eddie adds.

“Oh, you’re pretty sure?” Steve shoots back with a huff of laughter.

“I’m pretty sure. Two years ago, your dermatologist called and asked about a Q-switched laser. I, of course, googled what that is and found out that they do, in fact, remove tattoos. But you canceled your appointment.” He says smugly. Steve is baffled, and he presses on. “So what is it? A tramp stamp?”

Steve doesn’t deny it, redirecting sharply. “You know, it’s exciting for me to experience you like this.”

“Thank you.” Eddie replies. Focused. His eyes are locked on Steve’s and holy fuck, Steve doesn’t think he’s ever noticed how long his lashes are. “You’re going to have to tell me where it is though.”

Steve turns his head to avoid eye contact, “No. I’m not.”

“They’re gonna ask.” Eddie answers. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about mine - the ones you can see, the ones you can’t-” Eddie teases.

“We’re done with this question. We’re done with this conversation. Onto another question. Let me see, let me see.” Steve mumbles to block him out, making him sigh in defeat and sink down into his expensive seat.

“Oh, here’s one. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine?” Steve inquires, turning his nose up. “That’s easy, mine.” He answers without even looking back at him.

Eddie is sufficiently distracted at that, tone clipped as he antagonizes him, “And why wouldn’t we stay at mine?”

“Because I live in a penthouse on Central Park West.” Steve looks at him with pursed lips before turning back to the booklet again, “And you probably live in some squalid little studio apartment with a record player to impress your dates.”

Eddie’s tone is biting, a mocking smile on his lips. “You don’t have to sound so jealous about it, sweetheart.”

Steve stares at him unblinkingly. Asks, “What color is my toothbrush?”

“Blue.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

Steve scowls - flipping through the book, pausing as he reads a question that makes him flush. He drops the book between them like it burned him. “Okay, that’s enough of that.” Steve says.

It makes Eddie curious so he grabs the booklet and starts looking for the offending question. Prodding and teasing him. “Oooooh what was it? Which question got you flustered?”

“Eddie.” Steve protests, his tone lacking his usual dictativeness.

“Was it sexual?” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Is the US government just itching to know how we perform the horizontal tango?”

Steve glares. “If you’re not going to take this seriously-“

“I just assumed it would be like anything else with us.” Eddie cuts in. Steve waits for him to elaborate, and he lets out a huge breath, “We do it however the hell you tell me to.”

Steve gawks at him, miffed. “That’s…you’re being unfair.” He settles on.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Steve.” He soothes. And then thinks, fuck it. Lays his cards on the table.

“So, this is just me thinking off the top of my head - because I definitely haven’t spent a lot of time on this. Haven’t given any prior thought to - to how you might be. How we might be together.”

Eddie clears his throat as Steve gapes at him. Words spilling out. “No sir. Never ran your errands or emptied out your inbox and wondered, if after you’ve bossed me around all day, if you wouldn’t want to hole up in your office after everyone’s gone home and let me do the bossing around...Giving me the reigns to do whatever I want to you, just so you don’t have to be the man in charge. So you wouldn’t have to think and plan for a little while. Nooooo…I definitely didn’t spend way too long entertaining that thought, only to realize that it just doesn’t sit right. Because as much as I might like to imagine it - you - good and fucked, finally fucking satisfied, you’re way too mouthy and way too content bossing everyone around to give up all of your control when you go home, when you get taken to bed. So, it would have to be something more like what I said. Where you tell me what it is you want. What it is you need. And I, your ever humble servant, would be all too eager to comply.”

Steve’s voice is measured as he replies, “You haven’t thought about it, huh?”

Eddie steals Steve’s move as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. We just…we spent a lot of time together.” He lies. Clears his throat. “So, do I have it right?”

Steve looks out the window - because of fucking course he has the window seat. He replies mockingly, “Yes, Eddie, once again, you have another one right.” And then, because he’s trying to kill him, Steve adds. “I keep control. I keep control and I tell my partners what it is I need. Even if what I need is to get railed like a cheap slut at the end of a long day.”

Jesus H. Christ.

It’s impossible to be smug. “I live to please.” Eddie responds, willing away the stirring in his pants at the thought.

Steve just sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “So…that’s, uh, one question answered about you, I guess.”

Before Eddie can put his foot in his mouth - the flight attendant appears at their side, clearing her throat as she smiles and offers them snacks.

The two men let her interruption end the conversation, Eddie popping his headphones in for the rest of the flight. Letting Metallica pour over his more loud thoughts until he gets his footing.

Series Masterlist

Next Part: Part 3

Previous Part: Part 1

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rocknrollsalad · 1 month ago

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rating: gen cw: bad dates tags: hallmark movie au, hockey player eddie, sad sack steve, christmas tree farms, eddie's weird charm works too well word count: 997

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "hot chocolate"

Eddie had been helping his uncle out with the last-minute rush, the people who forgot to buy a Christmas and were now looking at the saddest saplings in the lot. No amount of creative salesmanship was going to make these trees worthy but people didn’t care. Not this close to the deadline. And Eddie had been happy to pawn them off, it meant he didn't have to haul them out later.

It’d been a good day, one Wayne offered to wrap up because he knew where his nephew wanted to be. Eddie didn’t wait for the offer to finish before he was booking it down to the rink they’d added to their Christmas wonderland fifteen years ago. He laced up his skates and joined the handful of others out enjoying the night.

Somewhere in his third warm-up lap, Eddie caught a guy sitting in the stands by himself and watching the figure skater who was taking up center ice. He was gorgeous, bundled up in a way that was equal parts fashion and warmth. Beside him sat two cups of something warm and a thing of popcorn. He was probably on a date with that figure skater. That's the way that worked, right? Still, Eddie took a second for the view.

When Wayne hit the lights on the tree lot, the guy was still there. Elbows on his knees, watching the entrance a little more than the ice. Still two untouched drinks and a full bag of popcorn. Eddie didn’t see the figure skater but maybe she’d gone off to change.

The other dates had slowly left the ice until it was Eddie and three teenagers. Officially marking Eddie’s favorite time of night. He skated off to the booth and switched the softly playing Christmas music into blaring loud metal music.

He came back out to find it hadn't scared their spectator off, he was drinking one of the cups now and watching as the teenagers tried to push one of their friends over. Eddie stood on the ice and stared at the guy, trying to figure out what was going on. Before he creeped the stranger out, Eddie went and joined in with the kids.

After Eddie had toppled all of the kids, managed to stay upright himself, and the album finished, it was time to call it a night. The saddest new fixture was still in the stands, defeated and out of popcorn. And, honestly, Eddie had been good enough. He was done.

Skating off the ice, he chased the teenagers out and locked up. A quick swap to shoes, a trip through the concessions stand, and back to the bleachers where he now trusted this man would be, Eddie took action.

Passing over a cup of old but still warm cocoa, Eddie tried to carefully walk the line between caring and making jokes, “Wanna talk about it, champ?”

“Oh thank god,” The guy breathed, accepting the cup. “It’s not super obvious?”

“Well, I did think maybe you woke up this morning with ice powers and you were trying to test them out because this is where I’d go do to that but I never saw the ice change and you’re not even wearing any blue so that doesn’t seem like the most obvious choice but I could still be wrong.”

Eddie took a drink as the other just blinked.

“Wanna help me walk the grounds?”

“Huh?”

“I have to check everything out before I leave, ya know? Make sure people aren’t hiding or lost.”

“Does that happen?” the guy asked as he stood up.

“Not really but my uncle said one time, before I was born, some guy tried to break in and steal some trees.”

“What wou-”

“Your trash, man. C’mon. I know you had a bad night but I’ll have to come back and clean that shit up. You’re closing up shop with me, get it together.”

The guy grumbled but took a few steps back to grab the now empty cups and popcorn bag. He crumpled them up and stuffed them into the pocket of a jacket that fit him so well it had to be tailored. Eddie thought the guy was nice on the eyes sitting down but up close? Seeing the whole picture, he was out of his league.

“Alright, you’re hired,” Eddie teased, showing he was pleased even as the guy acted like it was punishment. He took a few steps down the stairs, trusting he was followed. “So she stood you up?”

Eddie could hear the way it tensed the guy up. “Yeah,” he finally said. “And you want to know the fucked up part?”

“That’s my favorite part!” Eddie laughed.

“It would have been our third date.”

Oh god. That was fucked. Eddie turned around and looked at the man, wishing for anything more to say than “I’m sorry.”

“I knew it wasn’t going to work out but I didn’t know it was going to crash and burn,” he said.

Eddie led them into the concessions stand so he could make sure everything was shut off. “I think I’m supposed to say some stuff about it being her loss but no way you don’t know that so can I offer you a bag of nacho cheese to slap? Always makes me feel better.”

“I’m Steve, by the way,” the guy said, pulling himself up on the counter, leaning against the now-closed gate. His eyes were brighter and Eddie swore he could see a smile.

“Eddie. Munson.”

“Ah, so this is all yours then?”

“Nah, I’m the heir to the throne. The only so they can’t let anything happen to me.”

“Must be nice.”

“Yeah, I know you hear about what a burden the Christmas tree farm game is all the time, the media won’t stop saying how dangerous it is but I don’t live in fear. I can’t let them win.”

Steve smiled, lopsided and bright. "Wanna get out of here?"

Eddie nodded. He really did.

#steddie #written for: steddie holiday drabbles 2024 #(i'm finally feeling healthy enough to write!!!!)

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trevolinesmelody · 4 months ago

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Day 34!!! Everyday its just so much bigger….

Dormouse Eddie! :D from my au of Alice in wonderland (its a cope au-)

Everyone in there is Eddie

But different versions

This one is Child eddie as dormouse

Bcs its cute

Btw, im kinda sick still, im dying

#eddieeverydady #art #artists on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #drawing #the riddler batman #dano riddler #paul dano riddler #the riddler #danocel #danonation

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steviewashere · 11 months ago

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A Tribulation For Peace of Mind

Pairings: Eddie Munson & Eddie Munson's Mother, Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Brief Eddie Munson & Eddie Munson's Father Rating: MatureTags: Canon Adjacent, Coming of Age (Sort of I Might Be Bad at This), Transgender Eddie Munson, FTM Eddie Munson, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Moments in Time, Different Meeting AU, Pre-Season Two, Post-King Steve, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Gay Wayne Munson, Additional Tags May be Added

Content Warning: Transphobia, Slurs, Mentions of Violence But None Shown, Period Typical Language, Gender Dysphoria

This is just the introduction chapter, sitting at a whopping 6.2k words. And again as a warning, this first chapter is just brief little scenes that will extend more in later chapters, apologies. Also, I'm a trans man, so keep that in mind.

🏳️‍⚧️—————🏳️‍⚧️ There’s something about her body that Elizabeth Munson can’t quite put her finger on. Something different and wrong. Maybe…Maybe wrong is a strong word, but that’s what it is, she supposes. She had soft areas on her body that she often glared at with disdain. The curves and small pouch of fat at the bottom of her tummy. Which, she doesn’t hate all that too much, her mama told her about how that pouch is protecting her. That it’s meant to keep her insides safe. But she still, very much so, wants it gone. Wants a lot of herself gone. Her long hair, curly and wild—like her mama’s, but it’s prettier, and gentler less ill-fitting on her mama. She wants what her period is giving her to be shunned to another realm. The breasts, as her mama calls them, her smile all nurturing and sweet and doting. But they make shirts sit weird, and they’re kind of heavy, and they remind her too much about having babies. She doesn’t think she wants to have kids, not in the way she was made to have them. That doesn’t feel good to think about, either. Her fingers are long and narrow. Which, they aren’t too bad. Useful to learn the guitar with. But she looks at them and believes that they aren’t what her eyes are meant to see.

She finds herself admiring boys a lot. How they often don’t have to think about their body, unless they’re playing sports. They make her chest hurt. Like a quick staple in her skin. The boys in her school have short hair, first of all. Tidied up, shaved cleanly on the sides, high tapered and shaped nicely to their heads. Boys have lean bodies with defined muscles. They have flat chests and flat tummies, for the most part, and big feet, big hands, thick fingers.

Why did she have to come out looking like herself, she often wonders. Why couldn’t she have meaty muscles and hair all over the place and a deep rasp in her throat? How come she’s gotta smoke cigarettes to achieve the voice of her dreams? Why does she even dream about having a different voice, a different body, even a different name?

When she stands in front of her mirror, much like she does this morning, much like she does every morning, she sees an imposter cloaking her soul. If monsters exist, she believes that they have wrapped themselves around her bones, mutilated themselves to be human flesh and skin toned, and they inhabit her brain.

Her fingers comb through her hair for the thousandth time, frustrated beyond belief. She can’t make her hair look good or normal or right.

In a feeble attempt to make some sense of herself, she wraps her palm around her heavy head of hair, tugging it back behind her ears, above her shoulders, and imagines herself without it. What she’d look like. All rounded facial features and pouty lips, her mama’s eyes and her daddy’s crooked smile. Wraps her free arm around her chest, pushing and prodding around until her breasts are practically as flat as they can possibly be. She steps back from the full length mirror of her bedroom, the portal to monsters and Narnia and Wonderland, and sees it for what it is for the first time: A simple bedroom mirror.

Because there, in the reflection where her body once stood, is a little boy with scraggly arms and a chubby little belly and knobby knees. A little boy who’s mama doesn’t know how to cut hair all that well, maybe settles for a bowl cut each time, and each time he thinks she did a great job. A little boy who’s freshly twelve years old and doesn’t want to go to his first day of seventh grade, where the other kids will mock him. This little boy who seems to smile.

And she realizes, dropping her hair in haste at the rapid knocking on her door, she is not a girl. No, not at all.

Elizabeth Munson is a boy.

———— Boys act tough. Boys are rowdy. Boys are stupid creatures.

Elizabeth mimics them as well as he’s able. He still hasn’t figured out his name, not yet. But he knows how to growl and retort. Can take up space with big gestures and act all bothersome at the prospect of sitting like a lady. He can do all kinds of things.

But the one thing he hasn’t been able to do yet? Shake the sensation of his heavy hair.

He goes home one afternoon after a difficult day of school. Where he got called pretty and ugly and chic and darling. Shoved into lockers and teased for not wearing makeup. For stealing his daddy’s flannels and covering himself up, like he doesn’t want to be seen. He sneaks into the bathroom and finds his dad’s shaving kit.

If he can’t go somewhere and request for his hair to be cut a certain way, then he’ll just have to do it himself. He’s not sure how to successfully do it. But he begins with snipping away the ends. Up to his ears. Cuts off his bangs all choppy like. Drags the razor across his scalp. The tufts of hair falling to his shoulders. His naked shoulders. His naked torso still shining like dull copper in the mirror, heavy breasts and curvy waist and slim shoulders.

He shakes himself off like a dog.

And when the razor is unplugged, repackaged, put away for nobody to find. He takes himself in.

There in the reflection, is a…person with a shaved head. He throws on a t-shirt. And sees, truly, a little boy with his mama’s eyes and his daddy’s nose and unruly little scars from being shoved into things at school.

But he sees a boy. Or the outline of a boy. He sees the imprint, the footprint in wet sand, an initial carved into a tree. Then he thinks about his introductions. About going, “I’m Elizabeth.” The grimace that brings to his face. He holds a hand out to the mirror, his reflection almost mocking his movement. And rolls some names off of his tongue.

“Hi, I’m Allan,” he starts. Maybe he should be named after his father, but that doesn’t taste all that well. Another Allan Munson would be the end of the world. If being a boy in girl’s skin doesn’t kill him, then being the appendage of a criminal would. And he’s already had plenty of close encounters.

He takes a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Sam…I’m Sammy,” he tries. His mama’s name is Samantha, so maybe he should go after her. But if she was considered a hippie basketcase to the rest of Townsend, Tennessee, then he will, too. By default. Seems like maybe going the family route won’t work in his favor.

“George,” he shoots. “Georg—ie.” That’s another option. He wants a nickname.

Elizabeth garners Eliza and Liza and Beth and Bethany.

Allan gets Al. Samantha is Sammy or Sam or Mandy.

But he can’t, for the life of him, think of a single name that fits like a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. Can’t find something sweet, maybe a little sophisticated. Something that rolls. A name that would be easy for himself to remember. Or one that a person could hear in passing, maybe think he said something else.

What about famous artists?

“I’m Jonathan, but I prefer Johnny,” he mutters, thinking of Johnny Cash. He shakes his head and resets on his feet. “John, but I like Johnny.” John Prine is on his mind for that one. Flaps his hand to get rid of the ache from holding out for so long, drops it to his side, switches to the other. “Woody,” he whispers, but that’s not right either. Woody Guthrie has that.

He sighs. Never in his life did he think finding a name would be so hard. Briefly, he wonders how his mama did it. How she remembered his birth name even after heaving and laboring for hours, coming out exhausted and bloody and sobbing. God, he hopes he never has to experience this again. But, knowing his luck, he may as well start making lists—who else in his life may want a new name? Seems like he’s got plenty to pull from the recycling bin.

Holding out his palm again, he thinks about Eddie Van Halen. Thinks about fast music. Thinks about music that bonds him to the floor, that thrums his heart, that boils his blood. He imagines playing to sold out crowds, being called out to the stage. The crowd cheering, voices a concoction of screaming and wailing. “Ed-die! Ed-die! Ed-die!” They shout.

“Eddie,” he murmurs. Looks himself in the eyes. Big and brown. Just like his mama’s. Thinks of her holding his head. Kissing his temple. Folding the collars of his shirts, helping him tie his shoes, teaching him to brush his teeth. Of her saccharine voice like honey on the shell of his ear, sticky and golden.

Her lips to his sheared hair. Holding him by the shoulders. Her eyes watering from pride. Whispering, “You make Mama proud, you hear me Edward? My little Eddie’s gonna make Mama proud.”

Thinks of her body not ravaged by illness, her tummy fluffy and her arms full, her hair still long and tickling his neck. Thinks about the day she called him to her arms, announcing that she was sick, but that her biggest accomplishment—the thing she’s most proud of—was that she had a wonderful little kid. A brave kid. A tough kid.

“A precious little stone. ’T’s what you are, baby,” her voice had lilted. That Tennessee drawl to her bottom lip. Her nimble hands, just like his, soothing the ache in his sides, showing him how to take care of himself. Where the pads were and how to get blood out of clothes. Of her applying mascara, but nothing more, because less is more. He thinks of her hands on his cheeks. Murmuring all sweet like, “You were almost a baby boy, you know that? How funny that would’a been. But, you wanna know something, angel?” And he had nodded in her hold. “I would’a named you Edward. Cause you are the guardian of my heart. My heart is yours. And you are my heart. And whatever you do in this world, baby, I will be right there with you.”

Her voice against his cheek, kissing away his tears. “I’ll be right here,” she whispers, tapping his heart. “And no matter what you do. No matter who you are. Where you end up. You will always have my heart, my pride, my joy.”

He thinks of her at the end of her life. He’s nearly twelve years old and he’s feeling all too awkward about himself. She holds out her palm. And he takes it. She squeezes, murmuring, “Never change your heart, angel, never change your heart.” Her breath gone. And him, that ache and her palm, but those words being all that was left.

“I’m Edward Munson,” he introduces to the mirror. “But you can call me Eddie, if you’d like.” And yearns like a sunflower in the middle of winter.

———— Turns out with girl’s skin and boy hair, you don’t earn your place in the world. That you get kicked down and shoved in the mud and bloodied until all that’s recognizable is your eyes, fearing and hurt. Well, at least, that’s what happens in 1978; when Eddie’s twelve years old and trying to make his existence permanent in the world.

His dad isn’t proud. Never has been. Definitely never will. He drags Eddie back to their home. Makes him pack some bags. And Eddie thinks, briefly now, how at least he was given the ability to pack his bags, to gather his things. To say goodbye to the shadows that linger; they’re the shapes of Elizabeth and Mama.

He’s put into the back of the car. Told to be silent. To look out the window. Listen to his garbage music. He finds himself in the screeching of rock and heavy drums, of being an outcast on the outside of something great—how alternative rock has shown him that. Finds himself in the vocals, defying normal music rules, of going against all that he should know. Finds himself on the road between Townsend, Tennessee and Hawkins, Indiana. One small town exchanged for the other.

There are no words said as they pull into the Forest Hills trailer park. As the car stops at the end of the drive in a little dusty non-existent driveway. Or as Eddie gets out, bags in hand—a trash bag, one duffel, his school bag. When his dad goes up to the door and bangs like the cops that would show up to arrest him. Eddie almost snorts, almost laughs himself into pissing his pants—to think he’s being dragged away from his home, sent somewhere else, sentenced to this new life—how the tables turn.

Allan’s brother, Wayne Munson, answers. Eddie hasn’t seen him in a long while. They were never really allowed near each other, for reasons unknown to him. Wayne’s a few years older than his brother, tall and lean, dark brown hair that’s almost all gone from the top of his head and barely brushed by grey. He leans out the screen door, one hand on the handle, the other on the door behind him. Wearing a pair of dirtied up light wash Wranglers, some scuffed and muddied works boots, a blue Carhartt heavy duty jacket with holes in the pockets, and an orange and yellow plaid button up. Looks like he’s about to head off for work. Which makes sense. It’s probably somewhere around 8pm here; he works late nights at the plant, for all that Eddie remembers.

“Al, what the hell are you doin’ here?” Wayne greets unkindly. His voice is deep and gruff. Barely has a drawl to it, but it’s tinged with something. Tinged with a sweetness not known in the outskirts of a place like Hawkins. “An’ why’re you bringin’ your kiddo ‘round? I got work and ya didn’t call me in advance.”

“Ya still one of ‘em fags?” Al spits, ignoring the interrogation.

Wayne is genuinely startled by the question. His head rears back, nearly connecting with the jamb behind him. He steps out of the doorway, towering over the both of them from his place on the porch, arms crossed heavy over his chest, a deep furrow to his eyebrows. He’s got wrinkles…and they aren’t the happy ones. “Why the fuck are you askin’ me that?” And in just that sentence alone, the sweetness evaporates from his voice. Replaced instead by a curdled garbling, velvet and rich, coming from the very depths of him.

Al mirrors Wayne. Though, he leans in, like he’s getting ready to sample the knuckles Wayne’s about to send him. “‘Cause, somehow, you infected my little girl. Got some cross-dressin’, confused, little transvestite for a kid instead.” His hand reaches behind him, cupping Eddie’s left shoulder harshly. Enough that there’s a loud smack, enough that Eddie winces, enough that he wants to curl up in a ball and cry. He shoves Eddie forward.

Eddie stumbles onto the bottom step, almost landing in the dirt below with gravel in his palms. He wants to puke or tear out the rest of his hair or rip apart his insides. Everything is wrong and now he knows he’s wrong and nothing’s gonna make this right.

“I ain’t raisin’ no kid like this, Wayne. She’s your fuckin’ prob’em now.”

And that’s it. Allan turns to leave, Wayne’s hollering after him, and Eddie’s crying down at the bottom step of the stairs. He’s wishing like all hell that he could curl up in bed with his mama, hear one of her many bedtime stories, get his neck massaged by her careful hands, and just sleep. Sleep this off. Sleep until the sun is out and the world has ended and all that’s left is bones. Just bones and debris and wildlife. Bones and debris and carnage.

A gentle palm settles on his back, he flinches at the contact, but settles when all it does is swipe in languid circles. There’s a boot in his field of vision. The speckled mud. Dried and caked. He blearily looks up, tears cascading and burning down his face, eyes irritated from all the cryings and beatings he’s endured in just the last few weeks. He’s got nasty yellow bruises on his skin and new tiny scars on his hairline, etched into his forehead like brands. He knows he’s unsavory to look at right now. But still, Wayne’s looking down at him as if he’s the sun and Eddie’s searching for sunlight.

“Hey, kid,” Wayne murmurs. “Why don’tcha come inside with me?” He offers out the palm not on Eddie’s back. Wiggling his fingers like that’ll be more enticing. And, maybe Eddie’s resolve is completely absent, because the wiggling is enough for him to place his own shaky hand down. For his cold, narrow fingers to be squeezed by his uncle’s calloused and thick ones.

He gets hauled up from the ground, brushed off on the shoulders, a pet to the top of his head. And a little weak smile from Wayne. A barely there thing. A soft and sweet thing, nonetheless. He’s ushered inside to the hideous and dilapidated sofa that was in the background of his better childhood memories. Settled down onto one of the cushions. Wayne gently pries the sneakers from off his feet, sets them down on the carpeted floor. He takes Eddie’s coat and hangs it up on one of the dining chair backs at the breakfast nook. The one closest to the phone, the one Eddie used to always eat French toast breakfasts in. The bags come inside, placed down somewhere distantly.

Eddie’s barely aware of what the hell is happening. Just knows that his stomach is empty and he’s hungry. His head is throbbing from the bruising still there on his cheeks and all the goddamn crying. Chest concave and heavy. So, so heavy. He can only sniffle when Wayne sits beside him. Another gentle palm to his shoulder, the one that Al had smacked earlier.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Let me say that first,” Wayne’s whispering. Eddie just nods along, eyes unfocused and glazed, tearing up again at the gentle voice being thrown his way. When did everything turn so hard and unkind, a dull part of him wonders. Wayne’s soft voice cracks through his despondency, “But you will always be welcomed here. Gotta warn you, though, I ain’t never raised a kid. And you—uh—you sound like you got a complicated thing goin’ on, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie rasps. “’T’s all so…It’s a lot, Uncle Wayne.”

“I know, buddy,” Wayne continues, keeping his voice soft. “Believe me when I say that I know. Been in your shoes before.”

“Are you…You a boy like me?”

Wayne shakes his head. “No, I ain’t. But I—Your daddy—“

“Not my dad,” Eddie butts in.

“Not your dad,” Wayne mutters. He clears his throat. Something about him is congested, too. “But Al wasn’t wrong about me. I’m a fag. I’m a gay man, kid,” he confesses. Continues, “Was thrown out by the collar of my shirt, same as you. But, kid, there ain’t nothing wrong with us.”

His lip trembles. Shakily voicing, “Feels like there’s something wrong with me, Wayne. Why else would I be here?”

“Because you’re different. And you’re unique. And your heart is too big for Al to handle.” He takes a deep breath, rubbing his palm between Eddie’s shoulder blades. “But you stay here. I’ll let you have my bedroom tonight while I’m at work. We’ll unpack you tomorrow. And I’ll figure out your schooling, okay?” Eddie sniffles and nods. “Okay,” Wayne mutters, “What’s your name, buddy?”

Eddie wipes his nose with the back of his hand, and then holds it out. Wayne chuckles, a slight scrunch to his nose, but still he takes it. Something is warm in the way their palms touch. A gentle candle flame. Darkness waning for now. He finds himself softly smiling at his uncle. “My name’s Edward,” he introduces, “But you can call me Eddie.”

“Well, Ed—“ Wayne stops and raise his eyebrows. That okay, he’s asking. Eddie nods for him to continue. “Well, Ed, it’s nice to meet you. Welcome home.”

It wasn’t ideal, how he was forced from his home. But he thinks that it’ll be alright with the way Wayne smiles at him. As if, maybe or definitely, Wayne’s excited to have somebody similar to him in this town. And Eddie is in the same boat.

———— Talking at school isn’t something he’s done in a really long while.

Even back in Tennessee, Eddie didn’t try it. And still, he doesn’t do it here in Indiana, not really. One rural place for another. Conservative for conservative. He’d get worse looks than the scrutinizing ones he already receives.

The other kids look at him a lot. How he dresses. How he walks. He’s been mimicking so many other boys, trying to find that odd middle ground, his gate is all over the place. Some guys walk short and brisk and scurry like rats. Others are slow and suave. He even tries to impersonate any and all mannerisms that the boys offer. But there’s this one seventh grader that disrupts all that Eddie believes is “correct.”

Steve Harrington is an odd kid. He’s jock-ish; meaning that he’s in sports, he plays them, but he’s not very good. And he’s rather quiet, though rowdy with his friends. His friends aren’t good people. Eddie deduces that pretty fast. He’s been shoved out of the way by Tommy Hagan (apparently Steve’s best friend) and called some ugly name, and has to hold onto his bearings as Carol Perkins (Tommy’s little (maybe) girlfriend) pointedly looks towards his chest. But Steve…He’s weird. He walks fast, but suave, though scurrying and intimidated. Hasn’t really grown into his still pre-pubescent boyish body, as if that hasn’t been his body since probably elementary school. He gets excited about cars and history class and books, but flushes sensitive when he’s shot down by his gross friends. And he’s…Steve is kind. Steve is kind.

That’s the strangest thing to Eddie. Because all Eddie’s known is that most men, sans Wayne, and most boys, sans Steve Harrington, are terrible and spitting and mean. They’re the type to get in your face and bully you for your choice in shirt. They’re messy. They’re unruly. At least, that’s what Eddie’s collected. That’s what he’s written down on the fake scroll of rules, his doctrine in the back of his head.

Rule One: Boys are loud.

Rule Two: Boys are gross.

Rule Three: Jock boys are the worst.

Rule Four: Steve Harrington is not a normal boy and this cannot be changed.

Maybe that’s why Eddie gains a liking towards him. Maybe that’s why he wants to be his friend. And he tries. He really, really does. But Steve scatters. He clams up. His eyes are wide and his hair is teased up and his polo is too big for his scrawny collarbones. He can never pick one spot on Eddie’s face to look at, sight often dropping down to the floor. Though, Eddie does catch him looking at his chest once. Just once, by accident. But he quickly looked away, as if Steve knew what Eddie was trying to hide with the baggy clothes he stole from Wayne. The only other times he’s done it, not by accident, have been completely purposeful and oddly…curious, though not in a malicious way. As if, maybe, Steve really, truly wants to know. As if, maybe, Steve can almost relate.

Every time Eddie talks to Steve (his voice pitched low like taking a deep breath and scratchy from recently smoking a cigarette), he gets closer and closer to a real conversation. Less of, “Hey, you’re Steve, right? Maybe we can play—What’s that sport you do? Basketball? We can play basketball at recess—Hey! Where are you going?”

No, he’s close to Steve asking him a question. Though, his eyes don’t stay in one place. He gets weirdly fidgety. And really quiet. And he bolts. Sometimes, if Eddie is there when Tommy and Carol are with Steve, he hears the strangest thing.

Tommy will say something as Steve scatters, something along the lines of, “Run away, Stevie-boy! Run away! You’re good at that!” And Carol will snicker beside him.

But that’s not the strange thing. It’s something Steve responds with that makes Eddie grow curious. “Don’t call me that!” Steve will shout back. His hands tight to his body, trying to cover himself up. And that, well, Eddie knows that no other boy has done that. He hasn’t seen any other guy in Indiana, in little rural Hawkins, in any of his classes, do what Steve does every time Tommy calls him “Stevie-boy.” Can’t help himself from wondering, half the time, why Steve even sticks around these fools.

He backs off, but not without also thinking, Steve is a lot like me.

The rest of his eighth grade year goes by pretty uneventful. There’s the talent show that he attends, playing his guitar for a group of guys that cling to him pretty fast. That don’t make fun of his voice or his clothes. Who show him metal and Dungeons & Dragons, who know all about his Tolkien books, and who align with a lot of his doctrine. They are rowdy and they are gross, sometimes, but they teach him to get his energy out positively. Though, Eddie doesn’t think the gross factor can be fixed. He does lean into that aspect a little bit more, the more he grows comfortable with time. But otherwise, his friend group is small, eighth grade is stupid, and he moves on to high school. And in the rearview is Steve Harrington, who finally figures out how to get what he wants. Who defaults just as Eddie does. And, oddly, still is silently polite to Eddie—still curious with his gazes, not subtle at all. And who is somebody that Eddie learns to be jealous of.

Steve Harrington is a curious case. One to be reviewed. He’s a boy. An abnormal one. He’s attractive and smarmy and nerdy and jock-ish. And he’s somebody that Eddie keeps on his radar for many years.

Though, as it’s been said, his jealousy rears it’s ugly head.

———— In the time between eighth grade and starting his senior year, Eddie learns how to bind his chest with bandages. It’s not the easiest task, but he wakes up early to get it done. The first few times is awkward and deeply uncomfortable and he quickly tore them from his body. Though, he learns. He learns because Wayne gets tips and tricks from friends that he has. Because Wayne had mentioned there were ways to make Eddie feel less self-conscious about his body, at least somewhat.

So he learns. And he’s able to wear less baggy clothes. Though, his shirts still have some give. He still takes Wayne’s old jeans, tears holes in the knees, gets them dirty every time he works on his car or is pushed at school or spills Mtn Dew on them during Hellfire Club meetings.

That’s another thing he’s been able to do. With the small group of friends he gained in middle school, they start a Dungeons & Dragons club, disguised as a board game get together. (Because no way in Hell is a school in rural Indiana with a presbyterian church just around the corner going to let something like Dungeons & Dragons in their realm.) But he recruits some new people. People who are freaks, queers, and geeks just like him. So far, he’s got two sophomores named Jeff and Freak, a junior who goes by Ronnie, and Gareth who is a scrawny little freshman.

He should be at peace with what he has, who he is, what will come of him.

But of course he isn’t.

He learns to bind his chest, wears better clothes, grows out his hair a bit as defiance, but he’s not satisfied with everything he’s got. And that becomes apparent when Steve shows up as a junior on Eddie’s radar. He hasn’t really made an appearance, more background douche than anything, but here he is.

A kid who used to scramble out, nose to the ground, shoulders like Picasso paintings. A kid who seemed polite enough. A kid who Eddie admired a lot of the time. Now, he’s a total douchebag. Joining in on heckling the people around him like Tommy does, silently judging from the sidelines as Carol is prone to do. He’s obnoxiously loud, getting in people’s space, snarky comments, and disgusting belches. Running around like he owns the goddamn high school. As if he wasn’t some nobody with geeky interests only a few years prior.

It makes sense for Eddie to try and match his energy. Roaring about non-conformity and stupid jock parties from atop his table, two holes burning in his back from Steve’s gorgeous and fire-lit eyes. Stomping on mushy slices of square pizza, knocking cartons of chocolate milk to basketball players laps, and taking on his new title of Eddie The Freak. If anything, he prioritizes his queerness and outcast status to shine himself as a spectacle. But that still doesn’t rid of the douchey whispers he can sense coming out of Steve’s mouth at every lunch period.

Though, today is a different day. Eddie, by the fate of the Munson name, starts his period during his class before lunch. Trapped in the bathroom with red stained boxers and shaking hands, tears streaming down his face, squirming uncomfortably in front of the bathroom sink. He’s hidden in the men’s restroom. One near the lunchroom. One that nobody ever uses because then the cafeteria will smell like debris. But here he is anyway. Unable to match his own eyes in the mirror, ready to keel over, and slam his head on the porcelain tile below his—what he notices—dainty little feet. He’s able to see all the parts of his clothes that sit apart from his body, his jeans sagging, and his shirt ballooning. Sneakers that expose the extra room for his toes, able to fully move them up and down in the shoe. He wants to puke.

He thought he could have a moment of silence. To truly think about ditching class for the day. But of course he can’t have this breakdown to himself. Somebody stumbles through the door, slamming it shut behind them, shoes squeaking against the tile, and they’re panting.

When Eddie looks over, it’s to see the man of every hour, Steve Harrington. He’s red in the face, glassy eyed, mouth downward.

“Get out,” Eddie spits.

Steve looks to him. His gaze a thousand yards away. He’s haunting. But he doesn’t say anything to defend himself. And Eddie, well, he doesn’t know if he should repeat himself. Then, more blood gushes from him and he’s keeling over the sink, weak in the knees, going pale.

“Are you—“ Steve pants, “You alright?”

Eddie whimpers. “I can’t tell you,” he murmurs. “Please leave.”

But of course Steve won’t leave it. In fact, he comes closer. Right at Eddie’s side. Arms open and hands floating in caution. “Are you gonna be sick?” He asks. “We should get you over a trash can instead of the—“

“Steve, dude,” Eddie bites, “I’m—Fuck, I can’t tell you what’s wrong, alright? There’s nothing that you can do about it. Just leave me alone.” He briefly looks to the paper towel dispenser, weighing his options. Either he uses toilet paper, paper towels, or completely removes his underwear from the occasion. And these are his favorite boxers. “Actually,” he sighs. “Can you hand me a wad of paper towels? I need to—“ Pain ripples through him and he’s whimpering once more. “Fuck,” he mutters, “I should’a stayed home. The signs were all there.”

“Signs for…Dude, just tell me what’s going on. I can get a nurse or something in here. You’re freaking me out and I’m too worried about you to just leave.”

“Alright, fine,” he grits. “You wanna know so fuckin’ bad, then here’s your answer. I’m on my period.”

“Period? Don’t only—“

“Girls have periods?” Eddie finishes, blood boiling. “Yeah, Steve, they tend to. But I’m not a fucking girl. So, unless you’re in here to hand me a tampon, then you can gladly fuck off before you call me a tranny.”

Maybe that was a little over the top, but what else is he supposed to do? If he can’t be left in peace, then he may as well create it, right? Deter Steve from being in here and hopefully then he can be left alone. Then Steve says, “Oh, okay. I can—Let me get you a tampon from my locker.”

Eddie, startled and on the brink of exploding, blinks in utter confusion. “What. Why does King Steve have a tampon in his locker?”

Steve shifts from side to side. “I—uh—I like to carry them around in case Nancy needs them. Or—well—I guess anybody needs them. Let me grab you one, I’ll be right back.” And then he darts. For a second, in the slow close of the door, Eddie imagines scrawny, seventh grade Steve scurrying about the school.

He groans. Of course Steve is not only man in the ways that Eddie isn’t able to, yet. But he’s also some weird little knight in shining armor. Who the fuck does he think he is, Eddie can’t help but internally moan. He’s filled out nicely, gotten a little bit of muscle, is a bit better at the sports he plays, knows his way around school as an all high and mighty, can get any girl he wants, has the voice of Eddie’s wet dreams, and he’s a gentleman—in some ways.

True to his word, Steve comes back. Hand fisting the plastic wrapper of a tampon. Sidles easily up to Eddie, hand stretched out in offering. “It’s one of the super absorbent ones. Probably the safest bet. I didn’t ask which ones you like. So, here.” And he nudges his fist closer. “I also brought a couple snacks for when you’re done. Y’know, after you change and wash your hands. Do you—uh—do you need some new underwear? I can steal some from the guy’s locker room.”

Eddie stares down at the hand. Tentatively takes the tampon. And looks back up to Steve’s awfully earnest face. “I—Yeah, I need a new pair. But why are you being so calm about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m basically telling you that I’m one of those transvestites that everybody seems to, y’know, fucking hate. And you’re just…You’re being nice to me about this. Thought that you’d have something against that.” He clears his throat. And swallows around the lump of emotion forming. “Dude, I’m a guy with a pussy. Isn’t that—You don’t find that weird?”

Steve shrugs. “Despite what people think, I’m not a bully like that. I know that I—I’ve got problems, Eddie. But I don’t have a problem with you.” He grows wary. “Should I have a problem with you or something? Are you like a racist?”

“What?! No!” Eddie shouts. Quickly he shrinks in on himself, hand covering his mouth. He drops it away with a sigh. “It’s just—I heard that you called Jonathan Byers a queer. Y’know, in that way. And look, I don’t know if Tommy and Carol set you up to—“

“They aren’t my friends anymore.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and nods in slow astonishment. “Ohh—kay. Well, I didn’t think I could trust you, that’s all I’m saying.” He stands up straight from the sink, tampon in hand, and throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to, well, you know. If you can actually get me new boxers, that would be…That’d be much appreciated.”

“Yeah, man, ‘course.”

“One more thing, Steve?”

Before he leaves the bathroom, he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Can you—Please keep this between us. I know you’re being cool about all this bullshit, but not everybody is. If the wrong person hears about this, I could be beat up. Or worse.”

A strange flash of defeat and sadness spreads across Steve’s face. He tenses. Shoulders going up to his ears. Eyes downcast at the floor. Nods in understanding. “Yeah, Eddie. I can keep that to myself. I understand.”

“I don’t think you do, Steve. Please, I mean it.”

Steve nods again. “Trust me, I know,” he murmurs before he’s gone.

And though he does come back with underwear, stands by as Eddie nibbles on some dark chocolate for the iron as Steve mentioned, and makes small talk—Something in Eddie twists. Steve knows now. He knows. And he’s oddly empathetic about everything. Part of him wonders if Steve is like him, exactly like him.

🏳️‍⚧️—————🏳️‍⚧️ I don't know how long until the next chapter, but I hope this suffices. Let me know what you think about it :)

#stranger things #eddie munson #transgender eddie munson #trans eddie munson #ftm eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #wayne munson & eddie munson #steddie

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