#munson momma

[vyncentevelyn]

And When I'm Gone, Remember to Tell the Bees - Preview

Winnie walks into the diner. It smells like coffee and fryer oil tinged with cigarette smoke. A few old men sit at the bar, each with their own cup of coffee, ash tray, and newspaper. A girl around Winnie’s own age places a plate of pancakes down in front of one of the men before she turns to look at Winnie.

The girl is dressed in a uniform, blue apron over a robin’s egg blue dress, but her make-up is done to what Winnie can only attribute is her own style. Her eyeshadow is traffic cone orange, with sharp cat eyes of black eyeliner. Her lips purse in ruby red. Tiny specks of glitter flash across her cheeks like freckles as she moves under the diner’s lights. If she didn’t carry herself in a very no-bullshit demeanor, Winnie would say she looked like a clown.

She blinks. Her eyes are a dark blue. Heavy drops of water in a storm. Winnie can see the clouds twist inside her.

Winnie walks up to the bar, meets the girl by the cash register.

“Hi.” The girl says pushing her blond bob behind one ear. The action reveals a crescent moon dangling on a thin silver chain from the girl’s right earlobe.

Winnie smiles, feels something like ice melt in her stomach, “Hi.”

“Can I get you anything?” The girl asks.

Winnie looks down at the name tag pinned to the blue apron. It reads:  Mary. Winnie looks back into the storms watching her. She shakes her head, “I was wondering if I could have an application.”

The storms blink. Mary tilts her head like a bird, “You want to work here?”

“Yeah.” Winnie’s voice sounds flat.

Mary looks her over before saying, “Yeah, ok.”

She reaches below the counter and pulls out a sheet of paper. She hands the page to Winnie and subtly nods down at a cup full of pens. Winnie picks one up and points over to a booth in the corner, “Is it ok if I fill this out over there?”

“Works fine.” Mary says, “You want a coffee?”

“That be great.” Winnie smiles.

[harrywavycurly]

Secret Rendezvous Part 8: Miss You?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @emma77645 @aol19 @tlclick73 @prestinalove @kailey-firefly @fromasgardandback @therealgothamguardianfr @peaches-roses-sins @hiscrimsonangel @furiousladyking @angelina16torres-blog @sofaritsalrightt @josephquinnsfreckles @starrywhitenight @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @jasminelafleur @ohmeg @comeonatmebruh @missmarch-99 @arthurcerverogf

A/N: Okay y’all this is huge for Eddie right? Do we think he’s over being asshole or no? Also I’m so friggin excited for the next part but enjoy!✨

[yournowheregirl]

one hand, one heart

tw: mention of HIV/aids crisis and the general blatant (sometimes violent) homophobia of the 1980s

steve harrington loves musicals.

it’s something he inherits from his mother, something he always shared with her while growing up and his father is at work. she puts on hello dolly! on vinyl and sing along as she cooks, or my fair lady as she cleans out her closet, or the king and i as she does her morning crossword. 

steve doesn’t really get the songs at first, but his mother is patient with him, explaining the stories and characters of every musical and replaying his favorite songs when he asks and soon enough, steve finds himself singing and dancing alongside his mother, knowing each and every word. 

one night west side story is on tv and his mother allows him to stay up late since his father is away again. they’re huddled on the couch together, throw blanket in their laps and hot cocoa on the coffee table and steve can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. the costumes, the songs, the dancing, he just can’t look away, it’s all so pretty. 

the movie gets a bit scary at times. during the big fight scene, he squeezes his eyes shut and ducks away into the safety of his mother’s arms and when tony dies at the very end, there are tears rolling down his face. his mother tries to tell him that it’s just a story but steve knows one thing for certain now.

it’s dangerous to love someone who’s different. 

as steve grows up, his mother seems to have less and less time for him - now suddenly joined at her husband’s hip as he goes away on business trips - and their movie musical moments slowly fade away. but it’s fine, steve is at that age that people no longer find it cute when you know every word to don’t rain on my parade. no, when he tells people that, they look at him funny and whisper something that he can’t quite make out.

so he stops talking about musicals all together.

(he still listens to certain albums when he finds himself coming home in the big, empty harrington house once again. it’s comforting, almost like he’s hugging his mother again, but not quite as warm). 

he hides his love for musicals throughout most of high school. doesn’t even try out when the drama department is doing a rendition of bye, bye birdie, no matter how much he actually wants to. laughs and lies when tommy finds the sunday in the park with george album in the living room, saying the housekeeper must’ve misplaced it. acts all tough and aloof when nancy asks him to watch grease together, even though he’s watched it four times already. 

with all nightmares he gets during year after year of somehow surviving all that upside down bullshit, steve once again turns to musicals when he can’t sleep. usually it’s just a mixtape he made, consisting of his favorite songs that’ll sing him to sleep like a lullaby. but when the nightmares are particularly bad, he drags his duvet all the way downstairs, settles down on the couch and rewatches the sound of music until his eyes start to burn. 

no one knows about it. not even robin, even though steve think she might suspect a thing after he suddenly knew exactly who julie andrews was. and he had planned to keep it that way, until one night when he finds himself on the couch once again but this time, in the company of eddie munson. 

never in his life would steve have imagined that eddie munson would be one of his closest friends, but stranger things have happened. like dragging eddie’s lifeless body through the literal gates of hell and watching how he miraculously recovered from his near-fatal injuries. 

but it’s more than friendship at this point and steve is well aware of that. others may think of him as oblivious but he knows himself. he recognizes that fluttery feeling in his stomach, he felt it dozens of times before. he notices the way his face heats up when eddie calls him sweetheart and lets his hands linger a second longer than necessary. 

he knows damn well that he’s crushing on eddie munson and it scares him half to death. 

it’s movie night and they’re on the couch together. eddie is flipping through the channels when steve notices a very familiar scene. 

“wait, no. go back.” he says, gesturing towards the tv. eddie looks confused but complies anyway, until the opening scene of west side story appears on screen again. 

“you wanna watch this?” eddie snorts.

“yeah. it’s good.” 

“...right.”

steve is well aware that eddie is even more confused than before, but at least he doesn’t seem to question steve’s sudden interest in the movie. doesn’t tease him about it either, not when steve’s feet start tapping along to something��s coming all on their own and not even when he softly starts singing along to maria. 

it gives steve enough confidence to lean in during gee, officer krupke, barely able to hold in his laughter. “twenty bucks say you pulled shit like this with hopper at least once.”

eddie rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway and steve thinks he’s just made easy money, only for eddie to retaliate during i feel pretty. “twenty bucks say you pull shit like this in the mirror at least once a week.”

“fuck off, man.” steve mutters, bumping their shoulders together in an attempt to hide the pink flush that’s spreading across his cheeks. 

“no can do, stevie. that song is practically made for you.” eddie grins. 

he doesn’t pull away after that. stays right there, glued to steve’s side for the remainder of the movie, which makes it all the more difficult for steve to focus on whatever’s happening on screen. 

it’s a good thing steve knows this movie by heart already because it quickly becomes virtually impossible to focus on anything other than eddie when he notices eddie’s hand moving closer and closer towards him on the couch. and as soon as he feels eddie’s pinky finger curling around his own, steve’s pretty sure his brain goes static at the mere feeling of eddie’s calloused fingers against his skin.

now, it has been said that steve is the bravest one out of all of his friends - always throwing himself in danger headfirst to protect the others - but steve can still feel his heart beating in his throat as he lifts his palm and links his and eddie’s hands together. it shouldn’t be as scary as facing a demogorgon, but it’s still the most courageous thing he’s done in a long time. 

with one small, almost insignificant movement, steve can suddenly feel eddie’s eyes on him. feels his gaze burning into his skin, though he doesn’t have enough courage anymore to look back at him. instead, he lets outs a shuddering breath and tries to pay attention to the story again. 

and even though holding eddie’s hand seemed scary at first, steve soon comes to the conclusion it’s the best decision he’s made in a logn time because it’s just so fucking nice. their hands fit perfectly together and it gives him something to hold onto. an anchor of some sorts to get through the last few emotional scenes of the movie. 

eddie’s hand keeps him grounded, keeps him from bursting into tears when tony dies like he did the first time he watched it with his mom. still, that scene does something to him. hits him right in the gut and he can feel himself stiffen as maria finds tony’s lifeless body on the ground. eddie must notice it too, because he squeezes steve’s hand a little tighter, runs his thumb across steve’s knuckles, helps him stay in the moment.  

not much later, the credits appear on the screen and steve knows he no longer has an excuse not to look back at eddie. he takes a deep breath and glances to his left and- yup, grave mistake because eddie’s gaping at him, with his dark doe eyes even bigger than usual. 

still, steve can’t look away, even though the silence between them stretches longer than it should be. he should say something. anything. ask if he wants something to drink. if he wants to watch another movie. if he-

“steve?”

“yeah?”

“can i kiss you?”

steve just blinks at him, a response of any kind dying on his tongue. fear creeps up on him - what if he’s dreaming, what if eddie doesn’t mean it, not in the way steve wants him to, what if-

but he was brave before, he can be brave again. he meets eddie’s eyes and nods, trusting his body just enough to take over and say what his words can’t. 

as soon as he feels eddie’s lips pressed against his own, steve is hyper-aware of every sensation - the lingering taste of diet coke, the slight stubble on his chin, the loose curl that brushes against his cheek. he almost feels like he’s floating, like the fluttering feeling in his stomach has lifted him up and transported him to a world where it’s just eddie and his lips gliding in synch against his own and it feels so, so good.

okay, screw the hand holding - this is the best decision steve’s ever made.

as eddie moves closer and tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, steve’s hand find its way to eddie’s chest. he lets it linger over eddie’s heart, almost as if he’s trying to make sure that this is really happening. that eddie is here and he’s alive and he’s kissing him.

it’s only their first kiss but steve decides then and there that he doesn’t want another day go by without kissing eddie. doesn’t want another go by without eddie in it, period.

fuck. this is more than just a crush, isn’t it? this is so much more than that. this is almost like love. this is... this is a lot.

and that’s when it hits him. the message that’s been burned into his brain ever since he saw west side story for the first time - that loving someone who is different is dangerous.

not because he plays a fantasy game that no one seems to understand. not because he listens to metal and sold drugs in his spare time. not because he got falsely accused of murder and the whole town looks at him with disdain.  

it’s dangerous simply because it’s another guy. 

steve’s not stupid. he reads the newspaper, he watches the news, he knows all about the protests and the hate crimes and the thousands of innocent people dying of a disease that no one seems to care enough about to help. 

it’s terrifying to love someone when the entire world seems to be against you.

he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he tastes the saltiness of his own tears and feels eddie pulling away from him. eddie’s eyes are filled with worry and that’s somehow enough to break steve, the tears just keep coming and coming with no end in sight.

“hey, hey, look at me.” eddie says softly, his hands gently cupping steve’s face. “did i do something wrong? what’s going on, baby?”

steve shakes his head, unable to form any words just yet. there are just tears and sobs and terrifying thoughts of what would happen to them if one of them- no, he doesn’t even want to think about that, it’ll only make him more upset. 

“okay, take your time. i’m here.” eddie mutters. he presses a kiss to steve’s forehead, his hands never once leaving steve’s face. 

the tears slowly but surely stop after that and steve somehow manages to regain control of his voice, even though it’s raspy and broken.

“it’s just... i just like you so much and it makes me so fucking scared. because what if...” he swallows the lump in his throat again, gasping for air. “what if we end up like them? what if we end up like tony and maria? it just takes one wrong move and we’re- you could- i can’t lose you, eddie.”

“then we’ll go somewhere safer. we’ll go to chicago, or new york, or, or, literally anywhere you wanna go where you feel safe.” eddie says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. his thumbs wiping away the tears on steve’s cheeks. “it’s like that movie said, y’know. ‘there’s a place for us, somewhere a place for us. peace and quiet and open air waits for us, somewhere.’”

steve’s eyes widen. he blinks once, twice, almost feeling speechless. “you know this musical?”

“i may have seen it before. i was in the drama club after all.” eddie shrugs, but when steve looks at him in disbelief, he sighs and adds: “okay, maybe i rewatched it because i was bored on a saturday once. it’s a good movie.”

“it really is.” steve nods, a small smile playing on his lips.

“we’re gonna be okay, y’know.” eddie assures him. “we survived literal hell, what’s a few bigots in comparison to that?”

steve nods, and as his tears are starting to dry, he’s finally starting to believe that that eddie means it. that he wants him, that he wants them, that he wants a future, together. and that might just be just enough reason for steve to lean back in again and kiss eddie with every ounce of his being, slow and warm and deep until all his worries float away and eddie is the only thing left on his mind.

(and later on, when eddie’s whimpering ‘steve’ over and over and over again, steve fully understands what tony meant when he sang that a name could almost sound like praying)

hi friends! it’s been a damn minute, i’ve been dealing with one hell of a writer’s block but this just appeared outta nowhere so i hope you enjoyed! thanks as always to @legitcookie & @sidekick-hero for their endless support as i went through the five stages of grief every time i attempted to write ilyyy <3

[findafight]

More stranger things fic should have the teens laughing and giggling about sex. Like. Do you remember being 18?? Of course Steve kept saying boobies that shits hilarious. Sex is a funny thing and it can be silly and soft and intimate but it's also sooo funny to talk about. Like. There can be serious convos but oh my god let someone giggle when they hear the word "blowjob".

[truefangirl-13]

I like to imagine Steve writing and singing “Matilda” to Max after Billy dies and he notices her struggling

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Clean Up On Aisle Four

Author: F0xface3

Rating/Warning: General

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description:

Newly single mom Chrissy loses her daughter in the supermarket.

But it's okay, she didn't go far, just into the arms (or legs) of the handsome stranger a few aisles over.

Or: supermarket meet cute au

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, Momma Chrissy, single mom, meet cute, first meeting, Eddie is a sweetie, fluff, fast-burn, it's so fluffy, you have to read it, Chrissy POV, one-shot, status: completed

[nezxshi]

eddie and his mom in flight of icarus :')

[freyaswolf]

Rocking out to my Eddie playlist, stuff he definitely listened to, and stuff I think he would have liked. Yes, I was a metalhead in highschool. Among other things 😜

[eddiezpaghetti]

Who the FUCK is out here writing trans Eddie stories and NOT making his favorite song "Invisible" by Dio? You're on thin ice.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Steddie soulmate drabble (shared pain) || 3.9k words || rating: E || tags: homophobic slurs, period-typical homophobia, physical and emotional distress, panic attacks, Canon-divergent soulmate AU, Eddie Munson Whump, Steve Harrington Whump, one brief sex scene (so so brief) between Steve and the girl he brought to the basketball game in S4

Eddie experienced his first soul pain at twelve years old. Younger than most, but not worryingly so. The concern was the intensity of the pain. His momma held him tight, shushed him as he cried about how he feels all alone, doing her best to reassure him that loneliness wasn’t his and that she would never hit him. She held the frozen bag of peas to the blossom of red on his soft, round cheek and rocked him until he fell asleep in her arms.

The pains continued, giving him headaches on and off for years. He always wondered what his Half was going through for Eddie to have this much soul pain before puberty, but he grew used to it, stashing tiny vials of aspirin in his backpack or jacket pocket. The intensity was never as bad as the first time, eventually decreasing to a dull ache when they cropped up. His momma told him stories about people who could temper their pain to spare their other half, a difficult feat for even adult souls who’d spent years bound together. It was more likely the pain for his other half was dulling over time. He hoped it was true, but couldn’t push away the uneasiness he felt lying in bed each night and knowing the feeling wasn’t his.

Eddie was fourteen the first time he felt his own pain connect to his Half. Daddy called him a fag and locked him in his room for the weekend with nothing but the snacks and water bottle in his backpack. Unlike a sharp slap or the break of a bone, the pain of hunger was slow to build. Eddie still felt the tell-tale pop in the back of his mind as his stomach cramped. Unexpectedly, he also felt something almost akin to surprise riding the coattails of the pain. When the surprise faded into a distant comfort, he couldn’t object. Eddie knew this wasn’t normal, and decided from then on out to keep his soul pains a secret.

After his momma died, and his daddy grew drunk and violent, Eddie couldn’t stop his pain from connecting like he knew his Half could. Even after he’d moved in with Wayne, everything from the smallest shove to hushed slurs passed through the invisible bond, and even though pain connections can’t be controlled, most people only sent their most intense pains. It felt like he sent everything. Any little thing that set him off, the signature crack followed by soft comfort settled in his mind. 

The only consolation was that he felt less and less of his Half’s pain. Eddie wished that’d meant his Half was happy, with no pain to speak of. Between the dullness of the sensations when he happened to notice, and the immediate comforting response he received at his own suffering, he doubted that was it.

At sixteen Eddie had started looking into what it meant to experience some sort of response after connections, but couldn’t find anything in the low budget collection of soulmate information at Hawkins’ Public Library. Most likely on the banned book list, he figures, since that’s something kids are supposed to learn at home. 

Eddie couldn’t help wondering if the stories about Empaths were real. Rare, with absolutely nothing to do with pairings, it’s rumored Empaths experience the emotions of anyone physically close to them, but more importantly, are able to control the intensity of their own emotions and pain as how it’s experienced through their bond. Eddie’s couldn’t find anything about actually sending feelings through the bond as some kind of response. But like with his Daddy, he knows what happens after asking too many questions, so he keeps it to himself.

Eddie’s almost eighteen when there’s an intense, piercing crack behind his eyes. He’d been on his way back from the picnic table out behind school when the sudden pain had him curled up on the forest floor completely out of breath. It took him a few moments to get his bearings back, but he managed to walk to the van and get home. 

Wayne made him soup that night, let him put whatever he wanted on TV as long as he held the bag of peas over his bruised eye. At least it was light in color, barely noticeable, and would most likely fade by morning. However it was only a few hours later when shot off like a bullet from the couch, falling to the carpet on his hands and knees. He could hear Wayne saying something to him, could feel the gentle circling of his uncle’s hand on his back. None of it mattered. 

Eddie was filled with adrenaline. He’d never had a panic attack before, but his heart pounded as his breaths came in short spurts, the pungent fear squeezing his stomach. His hands vibrated and he clutched the carpet in a white knuckle grip to stave the phantom sensation. After what felt like hours, entirely wrung-out, Wayne let him have two shots of whiskey before climbing into bed.

It was quiet for another year. Unless, of course, he counted his own soul pains that crossed over, which he tried not to. Eddie’s emotions felt more in control of him than the other way around. Pressed into lockers, a scuffle at the picnic table with Hagan, being roughly kissed and then immediately knocked to the ground by Hargrove. It all connected. He tried to temper it, to be strong like his Half, but he always failed. Eddie was a coward, too scared to handle his pain alone. Like clockwork, the warm reassurance of love was quick to follow.

It was November 1984 the first time Eddie thought he was going to die. The panic set in, but unlike a year ago, it didn’t go away. He paced the living room, violently wiping tears from his face because even though the pain wasn’t his, the distress was so palpable he broke into cold sweats. Eddie did everything he could to think of to stave off the adrenaline– jumping jacks, whipping his hands around like a mad-man, screaming his voice hoarse.

Uncle Wayne suggested exercise, reminding him most athletes’ Half’s were people with an abnormal intensity of emotions and chronic pain, since it helps them process the constant stream of excess energy. So for the first time in Eddie Munson’s life, he went for a run. 

They started out at a jog, but it wasn’t enough. It felt worse than curling into himself on the ground like a pillbug. The only relief he felt was at a dead sprint, able to focus on the burn of his underutilized muscles. They ran until the adrenaline trickled from his system, and as always, was followed with love and comfort.

Halfway through their third lap around the park, an intense dread hit Eddie so abruptly he fell to his knees and vomited. They’d just made it back inside when Eddie’s vision went white. He came to only a few moments later, as Wayne hauled him across the kitchen and dropped him onto his bed. He held his mouth closed tighter than a vise, keeping every sob and groan deep inside himself to stop it from exploding out of him. Worried he wouldn’t be able to stop sobbing once he started. Wayne watched in horror as purple bloomed across Eddie’s face in real time, like a dye spreading under the skin. He placed a cold, wet cloth over his nephew’s eyes. 

Early into the morning, once the crying stopped, the migraine leveled out, he followed his uncle out onto the front porch to share a joint. The swelling in both eyes went away after two days, and he went back to school as usual. 

He noticed Harrington looked pretty fucked up, definitely worse than Hargrove. A panicked, fleeting part of Eddie’s brain worried Hargrove could be his Half, but he knew better. There’s always at least some amount of chemistry and attraction between soulmates, and all he needed was the one, ill-fated kiss to remind him his Half was still out there. Kudos to The King’s Half, however. If The Hair himself wasn’t at the hospital, then his Half surely would be. With a face like that, he can only imagine the pain Harrington’s soulmate had to manage during that fight.

It’s the fourth of July, and it’d been almost eight months since the last time he experienced this level of pain. Not his own, of course. No it never seemed to be his own when he’s left gasping for air, nails clenched into Wayne’s hand in the back of an ambulance they can’t afford.

He felt the bruises explode across his face, on his sides, behind his eyes. A sharp stab of pain in his neck lit up every nerve in his body. The howl ripped from him was grotesque, animalistic. His back arched up from the bed, thrashing his limbs into the metal bars of the stretcher until the medics did their best to restrain him. A pinch on the back of his hand. The world started to slow until he was wrapped in heavy darkness. 

Four days later there were still yellow, mottled stains on the sides of his ribcage and dark bags under his eyes. A routine of Tylenol during the day and painkillers from his own stash at night helped. Every night, Eddie layed in bed and silently cried. Their pain mixed now and the thought haunted him as much as it comforted. He only wished he could help his Half the same way they always soothed him. 

The guilt of his failure to help ate away at him, so it connects. Of course Eddie couldn’t control his emotions enough to spare the person who’s actually hurting, injured with no pain meds to help them, if Eddie had to guess. To top it all off, the cherry on the shit cake was that there's still the warm comfort at the back of his mind. His Half was living in excruciating pain, yet used what little energy they had left to help him with his. 

Eventually, Eddie had asked Wayne about different types of connections between Halfs. Not surprisingly he knew a bit more about it than the library, and didn’t hit him for it like his Daddy. 

“Each Half is meant to balance out the whole. Most people live somewhere near the middle, mild pain and mild emotional distress.” Eddie nodded, rapt with attention as Wayne continued. “But there’s always gonna be people at the fringes, the extremes. Like how I told ya about athletes usually being paired to trauma survivors. Why d’ya think you’re always so damn depressed after your incidents?” When Eddie had mentioned the soothing presence, Wayne had replied, “yep, sounds like an Empath,” like it was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Wait,” Eddie interrupted, “so the only reason I’m so emotional is because my half is an Empath? Or is it because they get hurt all the time. And if I'm so emotional, does that mean they're athletic?” Questions flooded his mind before Wayne cut him off.

“Could be because you were so young for your first connection. Could be because the severity of their pain made you feel it more. Or, maybe you were born that way, made that way for each other– destiny and all that.”

The pain lessened. The comfort remained. And Eddie felt the whisper of love each morning he woke up and every night before he fell asleep.

~~~ ~~~

Hands underneath Brenda’s shirt, her tongue moving across his bottom lip, anticipation glistens across Steve’s open chest as he grinds down into her. She moans into the kiss and runs her finger tips over his shoulders, grazing her nails down his back. Goosebumps erupt over his skin. He’s panting into her open mouth when his thrusts turn erratic, desperate and rushed. Her legs wrap around him, she crosses her ankles to pull him in closer and a moan crawls from the depths of his chest. His abs clench, hurtling towards his climax when he’s interrupted by the signature pop of a soul pain behind his eyes.

A cold sweat travels down his spine, adrenaline punching him in the gut. Horror claws Steve’s throat, he can’t seem to catch his breath as he hurriedly pulls out of her and falls to the floor. She’s saying something he can’t make out through the screaming urge to leave, run, hide. With enough faculties to grab his clothes on the way out, he dashes into the night where the chilled March air cools his sweat soaked skin. Distress clouds his mind on the drive home, so he pushes comfort, pleading with them to relax, breathe. The pain fades, but only slightly. 

The next day, Steve parks outside of a boat house. He doesn’t know Eddie Munson well, outside of the table top tirades and the glowing accolades from Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. They’ve never been friendly, even sometimes slightly antagonistic when Munson’s not satisfied with ranting about the government and decides he needs an actual face to point the finger at. No one better than The King, apparently. 

Steve played the role of snotty royalty to appease his shitty friends, but Eddie’s rants were contagious and always left Steve buzzing and manic. Of course Steve had thought about it before. Let himself wonder if his Half was some nice, pretty suburban girl, or if his Half was actually a crazed super senior he had absolutely nothing in common with. It was easier to consider the residual energy just a side effect of being an Empath, and not because he could actually feel Eddie’s emotions in his own subconscious. 

Robin told him about a Zine where she’d read it was possible for Empaths to absorb emotions from people in the same physical space as him, but they would have to be very close by and the emotions much stronger than normal. Which, in Steve’s mind, explained Munson to a tee. The guy always made sure to wander across the jock’s table, where his emotions were highest, typically with annoyance and disdain. Did Eddie’s eyes linger a bit longer on Steve than Tommy or the other athletes? Maybe. Maybe not. Steve did his best not to think about it too much.

Right now, with the tip of a broken bottle grazing his neck, he’s failing miserably at not thinking about it. Panic seeps out of every pore in his body. Adrenaline chokes him like it had the night before, but this time it’s from both himself and his Half. It’s too much. Steve can’t focus, can’t hear anything Dustin’s saying. There’s a sharp poke, then a trail of wet on his neck, and Eddie gasps. His grip loosened just enough for Steve to tilt his head away, readjusting his hold on Eddie’s sleeve, where his fingers accidentally brush against cold, pale skin. 

The panic gives way to euphoria. Steve breaks out into a fit of giggles, and morphs into hysterical laughter. He sounds completely unhinged, now doubled-over and furiously wiping his misted eyes with his free hand. Because his other hand has clamped itself around Eddie’s small wrist. The fizzing sensation like tiny bubbles flows from where they’re joined. The tingles climb his arm, root into his chest, and sprout in the back of his mind. 

Steve’s overcome with the hiccups. Robin’s rubbing small circles into his back and he works towards matching his breaths to her counts. It’s enough to pull his focus back to reality. 

He is Steve Harrington. He’s in Reefer Rick’s boat house with Robin, Dustin, and Max. The Upside-Down is probably back. Something wet drips down his neck. The dock is rough beneath his knees, even through the denim. His back aches where it hit the wall. And Eddie Munson is his Half.

Eddie is crying. Steve registers the shock, the guilt, the despair at the back of his mind. Eddie’s guilt– iit’s always guilt. It dulls his own joy, but just a little. 

Tentatively, Steve pushes comfort. To his delight, Eddie gasps again. His big, dark eyes lock onto his, and Steve can’t help but smile. He knows now isn’t the time to talk, that there’s so much more happening to Eddie than just finding his soulmate in a rundown boathouse on the edge of town. But they’ve come so far, been through so much that Steve decides they can spare a moment, just for them. 

He cups the back of his hand behind Eddie’s neck before releasing his wrist, unwilling to lose contact, and guides his Half into his lap. The guilt spikes. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t want to be here, with him, on some level. But Eddie crawls between his legs, pushes his face into Steve’s neck and inhales. The crush of Steve’s grip calms him, and panic eventually subsides. It’s quiet. Steve looks to find Robin corralling the kids towards the door. She throws him a thumbs up as she closes it behind her.

He pushes to her too, and he feels her relax in return.

Eddie mumbles something, but it’s muffled into his neck. Steve leans back as he scruffs his Half’s hair, pulling him away just far enough to make eye contact. The poor boy still hasn’t stopped crying. Steve’s still pushing, pushing love into him.

“I’m sorry. Steve, I’m so sorry,” Eddie sobs. Steve watches as Eddie rubs his dripping nose on the sleeve of his leather jacket, the snot smearing with the drag instead of absorbing into it. Steve uses his own free arm to wipe Eddie’s nose for him which earns him a pinched expression and a small, awkward chuckle. “That was disgusting.”

Steve smiles. “I’ve seen worse.”

Eddie’s eyes dart away, and guilt spikes again. Steve gently swipes his thumb under his eyes to catch the stray tears. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in there.” He taps on the back of Eddie’s head.

“You– you’ve been through so much. Like, so much awful shit, Steve, and I don’t even know. I just–” Eddie pauses, scrubs his hands over his face until Steve pulls one away, slowly guides it toward the side of his own neck–skin to skin– places the tip of Eddie’s thumb in the cradle of his jaw. Momentarily entranced, Steve squeezes the back of Eddie’s neck again to regain his focus.

“You just, what, Eddie? You’re going to be ok, just tell me.” He pushes. Eddie shudders, the effect intensified with proximity.

“See! That, exactly that. You always comfort me when I need it. When my dad kicked me out, anytime Wayne and I argued, every time I got shoved into someone’s locker. You were always there, just wrapping me up in love. Which is such fucking shit.” Eddie’s cold huff of laughter is wet and self-deprecating and Steve hates it. Doesn’t have to feel it in the back of his skull to know Eddie’s full of misery. “All I could ever give you back was shit. Just anger, frustration, depression and fucking teenage angst. I tried so hard to hold it back, like I knew you could. I tried so fucking hard, Steve, to send you anything good, like you always did for me. And all you got was my bullshit.”

Steve’s own eyes water as Eddie dissolves back into a fit of sobs. He tucks his Half’s head back into his neck as he rocks them back and forth. Struggling with his own thoughts, Steve chooses each word slowly and carefully. “Eddie, I felt everything. Your happy moments might not have been as strong as your bad, but they were still there. Like how I know Hellfire plays Friday nights, and I always thought I felt great on Friday nights because I finally got a break from the kids. Or how my best games were always after you’d do your little cafeteria table speeches, because it filled me with so much energy I would practically vibrate. Every single day, I’d feel little pops of bubbles that could only be you. You were always the best part of my bad days, Eddie.”

He feels raw, laid bare and exhausted as Eddie looks up to stare at him, lips parted in disbelief. “You knew? You knew it was me the whole time?” His voice croaks, and Steve makes a mental note to get him some water when they leave. 

Smiling, he grazes Eddie’s sweat and snot and tear-soaked bangs off his forehead. “I had a hunch. I just–”

“Just what?” The swell of heat behind Steve’s eyes pinpoints Eddie’s anger, rejection, and more guilt. Always guilt. “You were just hoping you could go as long as possible without mentioning it. Hoping maybe you were wrong, and your soulmate wasn’t the satan-worshiping, drug dealing Freak of Hawkins?”

With one hand still woven into the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck, Steve uses his other hand to cover Eddie’s mouth, and he’s thrilled to discover his hands almost completely wrap around his head. He pushes hard again. Eddie squints, glaring at him over the ridge of Steve’s pinky finger, but Steve still feels him relax, so he counts it as a win. 

“I didn’t want to drag you into my bullshit.” The pinprick sensation of curiosity heightens and he answers before Eddie can even ask. “You know exactly what bullshit. That’s why I’m the one who should be sorry. Fuck I can’t– I can’t imagine how all of that must’ve been for you. How painful it was, especially when you didn’t know what was happening, or why. You were forced to bear through all of my shit and just hope it would end.”

Eddie gently pried Steve’s hand from his mouth and eyed him warily before using Steve’s own sleeve to wipe at the boy’s tears. “Steve, what happened to you?”

Steve sniffles before he places a feather-light kiss to Eddie’s brow, reveling in a champagne pops of love and awe. “I’m sorry, baby, but probably the same thing that’s happening to you right now.”

A heavy silence settles between them. Steve feels a separate, more distant curl of anxiety in the back of his mind and knows they’re running out of time. Robin can only keep the kids distracted for so long. Steve pushes more comfort at her, receiving her expected impatience in return.

“Come on,” Steve says, rising to his feet and he reaches down to help Eddie up as well. “You can tell us what happened, and we’ll fill you in on the rest.” He takes Eddie’s hand as they walk towards the boathouse door. No use in forcing him to sleep here when Steve’s house is always empty. 

“What about us?” Eddie’s voice is timid, but still hopeful.

(Continue for one-sentence hurt/no comfort)

Steve smiles, squeezing his Half’s hand before softly kissing his knuckles, cool metal rings grazing his chin. “After this is over, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

~~~

The pain is Eddie’s, sharp and piercing in places that bleed the most. It’s agony and it’s death, but he only feels a surge of love as he falls to darkness.

[aww-canon-no]

Steddie Fic- 9 Stops

9 Stops

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rated: Everyone (but with kissing)

Deaf Eddie, newly deaf Steve, meet cute, modern fic, no upside down

Summary:  And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

Note: You have all been so nice?  Im crying?  This fandom is so soft.  Posting one more Tumblr one-shot tonight.  This time with kissing.I gave you Deaf Steve so now have Deaf Eddie/deaf Steve (big D little d, not an innuendo)

Word Count: 2400

*** 

The train is quiet.  In a literal sort of way, everything is quiet for Eddie Munson who was born deaf and remained deaf despite all the praying and laying hands and shit that adults were always doing at his parents’ church when he was little.

That was before CPS got involved and Wayne stepped in and made things better.

But in a more metaphorical way, the train is quiet because—what most people don’t understand—the Deaf community is loud.  And he means that in every way it’s possible to mean that.  Everything is turned up to max volume so they can feel it.  When they get together it’s big gestures and faces all twisted up in expression and wagging tongues and stomping feet and…it’s a lot.

It ain’t your momma’s sweet little interpreter at Sunday Service kind of deaf.

He doesn’t regret the job working at the center, but he takes the train home instead of carpooling with the other guys because it’s going to get loud again when he meets up with the rest of Corroded Coffin for band practice.  They met at school when Eddie was finally allowed to leave the nonsense of mainstream education he couldn’t actually understand behind him.

Garret wanted to call the band something like Deaf Devils which Eddie flat out refused because he will not—under pain of death or torture—ever be obvious or predictable.

Also why he takes the train.

At least, why he used to.

Now he takes the train because he takes the train.  The Hair, Eddie’s been calling him.  It’s a sign name that Steve Harrington doesn’t actually know about since he doesn’t interact with Eddie.  Eddie doesn’t do intake or adult shit.  He mostly works with newly deafened teens, or teens that have come from hearing homes and are finally allowed to get more involved in the Deaf community.

They call it socializing but it ’s mostly a way for Eddie to be able to run the most badass DnD campaigns known to man and get paid for it.  It’s maybe the sweetest job he’s ever had and there’s no chance in hell he’s ever giving it up.

But he noticed Steve when he showed up—looking like a scared, lost little lamb the way they all do when their world has been flipped upside down.  And Eddie does feel sympathy for him.  Steve looks like the kind of guy Eddie hate. The kind of jock that liked to push Eddie into trash cans and lockers because—surprising absolutely no one—Deaf school had preppy jock assholes too.

So Eddie mostly avoids Steve and his polo shirts and his annoyingly glorious hair for a really long time.  And he definitely doesn’t get soft on the inside whenever he sees the look of frustration on Steve’s face when he comes out of the ASL level one class.

Eddie remembers it pretty well, but not well enough to relate.  He also never lost a sense so he’s not quite sure what Steve’s going through.  

But he’s not a monster.  He feels.

He feels too much sometimes.

He kind of wants to tell Steve that it gets not just a little better, but so fucking much better.  That it’s a big deal that Steve came to the center because most people his age just get some metal and magnets slapped inside their skulls and hope for the best and move on without realizing they don’t actually have to choose between one or the other.

They don’t have to lose one to gain.

Or something poetic like that.

He needs to write that down.  It sounds like it could be a pretty decent song lyric.

Anyway, Eddie used to take the two o’clock train, but now he pushed it to three because that’s when Steve shows up at the station with his head down and his hearing aids off and his fingers all twisting in his lap like he’s trying to quietly practice everything he learned that day.  Eddie notices the shaking, and he notices the dark bags under Steve’s eyes.

Steve doesn’t notice him though.  He’s not quite there yet.  At that place where sight replaces sound naturally, and he starts noticing everything around him without waiting to hear it.  

He can’t help but keep his eyes on Steve, even squashed between two dudes—one of whom is eating legit an actual to-go box full of fettuccini alfredo.

And of course that happens to be the moment Steve finally looks up and sees him.  After six weeks, Steve finally notices.

His lips twitch.  Eddie braces himself because he expects Steve to be maybe angry.  It’s obvious Steve recognizes him.

Then Steve raises a hand—a small and subtle thing.  ‘Hi.’

Eddie snorts.  ‘Hi.’

Steve goes on a face journey which Eddie reads like one of his favorite novels and in spite of himself, he smiles wider.

‘You think this guy would freak out of I took a bite of his food?’ Eddie chances.

There’s no way in hell Steve’s that far along in his lessons, but he watches as Steve’s lips curve around a couple of the words he knows.

‘Don’t understand.  Sorry,’ Steve finally signs, back—still subtle like he doesn’t want to be noticed.  Then he yawns, the kind that Eddie knows probably cracks his jaw.

He stands up without realizing it and moves across to sit beside his not-friend.  He sticks out his fist and they knock knuckles—a fairly safe greeting.

Steve sighs.  ‘Sorry,’ he signs again.

‘I know,’ Eddie tells him.  ‘Give it time.’

Steve must have learned that one from his teacher saying it over and over to his students.  It’s not your average ASL class.  It’s not hearing people trying to get a credit, or start a new job or something.  It’s all people in Steve’s shoes trying to learn how to communicate again without making their brain feel like it’s full of static electricity.

‘You’re tired,’ Eddie signs.

Steve nods, then remembers to respond with a fist.  ‘Yes’

Eddie laughs and shakes his head.  ‘What’s your stop?’  He signs it slowly and fingerspells some so Steve will understand.  Train-STATION, yours, which?

Steve licks his lips, then lifts a hand, pinky touching his thumb.  ‘Sixth AVE.’

Eddie nods decidedly, then shuffles so close their thighs touch.  Steve startles, but Eddie just reaches over and tugs Steve’s head until it falls against him.  ‘Sleep,’ he tells him.  They have nineteen stops to go—and that’s nine past Eddie’s.  But he’s done worse things than ride the train all evening.

Steve stiffens like he’s going to put up a fight for a second, and then his body relaxes.  He’s asleep before stop four.  He’s snoring so loud that Eddie can feel it rumbling against his side by stop seven.

By stop sixteen Eddie hates himself for what he has to do.

At stop eighteen he gently prods Steve who wakes up with a jolt and stares around like he doesn’t know where he is.  Their gazes lock, then his shoulders sag.

‘Thank you,’ he signs.  His fingers are nice.  Lovely, in fact, the way they tip from his chin.  Watching him blossom into the language will be a real treat.

If Eddie’s invited in.

***

So.

Train naps become a thing.

Eddie meets him at the entrance to the station, and Steve tells him one or two facts about his day with his growing vocabulary—and he probably picks up some colorful commentary and slang—and some of Eddie’s home-grown home-signs which is alright by him.  Just…hopefully he doesn’t get yelled at in class for using them.

Because then Eddie will get yelled at later. Scott Clarke will definitely know where they came from.  But it’s kind of hard to care because Steve scrunches up his face when he’s processing something new.

And Eddie’s halfway in love and he’s not interested at all in pumping the brakes, even if Steve seems pretty goddamn straight and will only break Eddie’s heart in the end.

***

It’s twelve weeks now and Steve’s starting to look better.  A little more rested.

It’s a Tuesday the first time Steve doesn’t fall asleep, but he also doesn’t put space between them, either.  He stares at his hands for a while, then he looks up at Eddie.

‘I,’ he starts.  ‘Went deaf overnight.’

That…’sss a surprise.  That’s not super common to just randomly go deaf.  At least, not in someone as young as Steve who can’t be more than twenty-five.  Not that Eddie hasn’t seen stranger things, but still.

He can tell Steve’s not done with his story.

‘Dr told me I had three tumors and I would go deaf eventually,’ he signs it Deaf-future-later like he’s not sure which one is right and Eddie just lets him have it.  His brain’s interpreting it juuuust fine.  ‘I was sad, but okay.’

Eddie nods.  That-that.

Steve smiles and bites his lip before letting it go and it’s all spit-slick and shiny and Eddie wants to taste it so badly.  ‘I fell,’ he signs.

Eddie clarifies that he means he physically fell.

Steve touches the back of his head.  ‘Nineteen STITCHES.  CONCUSSION.’

Eddie winces.  He’s has his fair share of head injuries from mosh pits and other stupid shit, but those were injuries he all-but chose to have.  Steve looks devastated.

‘Dizzy,’ he signs.  ‘VERTIGO.’

Eddie shows him the sign for that and Steve copies it.

‘I couldn’t walk.  Tried everything.  Fail.’

Eddie winces again.  ‘Sorry.’

Steve shrugs.  ‘They removed tumors.  Hearing was gone.’

Eddie tries to think about what life might be like if he just woke up one day and lost a sense.  And okay it would be different since he was already Deaf but he still gets it.  As best as he can, anyway.

He sighs and turns, cupping Steve’s cheek.  Steve leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, and God knows Eddie is, so he’s not in a hurry to pull back.  He grazes his thumb under Steve’s eye.  ‘Sleeping better?’

Steve laughs.  Eddie has some—what the doctors call residual hearing which seems a little ridiculous since Eddie was born this way, but whatever.  It’s enough to hear—just barely—the rumble of Steve’s laugh over the faint noise of the train.  Mostly he feels it against his hand though.

‘Yeah.  Better,’ he repeats.

Eddie sighs, but before he can mourn the loss of their routine, Steve shuffles closer and lays his head down.  Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep, but this is good too.

***

For the first time in six months, Eddie doesn’t come to his ASL class.  And it’s not like Eddie’s waiting…

Which is a lie.  He’s definitely waiting.

The kids give him epic and endless shit for being distracted—to the point he gives up and lets Mike start his own campaign while he paces the room and feels all kind of itchy all over and he hates it.  He hates it so much.

The kids all go home eventually and Eddie gets on the train at three and he stares at the empty seat that Steve should be in and it feels like there’s a sudden canyon or maybe a dark hole that leads into some alternate dimension that stole these moments away from him.

His stop comes and he almost doesn’t get off until he remembers he doesn’t need to wait nine stops past, and nine stops back.  His knees are kind of shaky as he brushes past people and feels the silence kind of profoundly for the first time in maybe ever.

And then the world rearranges.

Steve’s there, leaning against the wall near the stairs with his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face that’s both terrifying and really, really beautiful.  Eddie feels like he might choke on his own tongue as he stumbles to a halt.

‘Nine.’

Eddie stares at Steve’s hand thinking maybe he’s got the wrong sign.

Then he does it again.  ‘Nine.’

Eddie looks behind him, then at Steve again.

‘Your stop is before mine.’

Eddie flushes.  Hard.  So hard he gets a little dizzy.  ‘Yes.’

Steve swallows hard.  ‘Why?’

Eddie flops his arms and his whole body kind of moves with it, and he wants to pace and be loud with his body but they’re in public.  Like, hearing public.  Someone will definitely call the cops and tell them he’s on drugs, especially since he tends to vocalize a little loudly when he’s uncomfortable and it unsettles hearing people’s delicate little ears.

He takes a breath.  ‘You were tired.’

Steve blinks at him kind of incredulously.  ‘I was tired,’ he repeats.  His face doesn’t give Eddie any indication that it’s a question but…

Maybe it is?

‘You were tired,’ he repeats.

Steve pushes away from the wall.  Stalks a step closer.  Then suddenly his hand is on Eddie’s cheek bare and warm and soft, and he mirrors that gesture, swiping a thumb under Eddie’s eye.  ‘Where is your shoulder?’

‘My—’ Eddie starts.  Stops.  His hand hovers in the air.  His shoulder.  His own Eddie?  ‘I don’t need one.’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve shoots back at him.  It’s an older, more archaic sign he definitely got from Scott, but it hits the mark.

Eddie sighs and shrugs again.  ‘You were tired,’ he just repeats.  He needs Steve to get it.

And oh.  Maybe he does, because he’s pushing in closer again and his hand has fallen to the back of Eddie’s neck and there’s absolutely no signing space between them now.  Steve’s lips move like maybe he’s talking to himself—probably a habit he’ll never totally lose, but Eddie likes it.  He likes the way Steve’s lips dance and he wants to feel them.

And holy shit this might be his chance because…

Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

But when it ends, Steve is still warm, and still perfect, and still touching him.

‘Nine stops,’ Steve manages to sign.

Eddie laughs.  ‘Eighteen, if you count the ones on the way back.’

He feels Steve’s groan as he rolls his eyes, then he grins as Steve surges back in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

Kiss him.

[vyncentevelyn]

I’ve seen a lot of posts about what Eddie’s mom looks like, who would play her, etc. and none of them really clicked for me.

And maybe that’s because I’m writing about her. Maybe I’m too close to her.

But then it hit me. Rachel Weisz but with brown eyes.

This is Winnie Munson.

Look at them.

I mean. They are mother and son.

I just.

Look at them.

And then like here’s one with Wayne because why not.

Siblings. Sister and brother. Brother and sister. The Munsons.

[steddielations]

Eddie’s missing. Steve can’t form a coherent thought beyond: Eddie’s missing, find him. The last few hours, it’s been his every thought, his every action.

There’s never a smooth visit to Hawkins. Eddie’s reputation has only gotten worse in the years since they moved to Chicago. Every time they come back, something goes wrong. But Eddie wanted to spend Wayne’s birthday with him, which also happens to be his mom’s birthday. That’s why he put on Wayne’s Muddy Waters record after a few drinks too many, mumbling, “Doesn’t sound the same.”

One second, Eddie was drunkenly rocking to the music, then he went outside for a smoke and didn’t come back. 

Wayne shouldn’t be out in the cold weather, but nothing could stop him from getting in his pickup to look for Eddie.

Steve’s mind jumps to nightmare conclusions. Eddie still has enemies, maybe they’re finally taking their revenge. Or what if they hadn’t destroyed the gate afterall and something worse took Eddie? Steve’s mind skipped every small explanation, but that detail about Eddie’s mom comes back.

He’s searching backroads and the thought leads him down Philadelphia street. No one goes there anymore, convinced there’s more ‘Munson victims’ buried where Eddie’s childhood home once stood.

Steve sags with relief when he shines the headlights and sees Eddie among the piles of old burned wood.

“Eddie!” Steve’s already jumping out the car, hurrying to him, “Oh God, there you are. What are you doing out here, baby? You okay?”

Eddie doesn’t seem to realize Steve’s there, frantically digging through the rubble. Looking for something.

“Eddie?” Steve reaches him, crouching down next to him, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Without looking up, Eddie mumbles something like, “Can’t find ‘em.” 

“Can’t find what?” Steve asks, keeping his tone soft despite how worried and confused he is. Eddie doesn’t answer. There’s random cuts and splinters on his hands, covered in dirt and soot but he doesn’t slow down. Steve winces at the sight and reaches for his shoulder, rubbing gently to get his attention. 

“Eddie, look at me, hey. What is it? You can’t find what?”

Finally, Eddie turns to look at him. Though, his stare is a thousand miles away, eyes wide and bloodshot. The headlights show tear tracks through the soot dirtying his face. It’s like he’s in a trance, still mumbling things Steve can’t quite make out. He can smell the beer on Eddie, but he knows this isn’t just from drinking. Eddie gets stuck in his head sometimes, like in the boathouse all those years ago. Reliving nightmares from '86, and things that happened to him long before that too. 

“Her records,” Eddie stresses, “My mom’s records. I left them right here.” 

Steve looks down where he points to nothing but charred, rotting wood. There hasn’t been a house here in years. Steve remembers the fire, everyone said Eddie did it just because he was a ‘no good Munson’. Steve didn’t learn the real story until later. Eddie told him about the records, how they burned in 84 when all his dad’s scheming backfired.

“Eddie…” 

“They were right here!” Eddie interrupts, almost like part of him knows what Steve’s going to say and he doesn’t want to hear it. “I left them right here and now I can’t find them.” 

With a half-choked sob, he turns back to scouring through the rubble.

“Hey, It’s okay.” 

“No it’s not. I gotta find them, Steve, they’re all I have of her,” Eddie strangles out, flinching when Steve’s hand slides behind his shoulders.

Steve swallows down the emotion swelling in his chest. Feeling powerless to really do anything, he says, “Okay, we’ll— we’ll find them. It’s okay.”

That’s the only thing that seems to ease Eddie. Though, the way he slumps seems like he knows it’s not true, but lets himself believe it anyway. Just for the comfort. 

He’s breathing raggedly, shivering in the cold and every sob rattles his body under Steve’s hand. Finally, he lets himself sink fully into Steve, his cold wet nose pressed to Steve’s collarbone.

“S’all I got. Momma’s music,” he keeps repeating as Steve rubs his back, so drunk and so sad, “Gotta get ‘em back. S’all I got left of her.” 

“I know, baby, we’ll find them.” Steve presses kisses into Eddie’s forehead, holding him and rubbing his back. It’s not the truth, Eddie knows that, but he doesn’t need the truth right now. So Steve says it again and again, as long as Eddie needs to hear it. “We’ll find them.”

[rainylana]

Eddie Munson Headcanons

note: no warnings just a whole lotta fluff! hope you all are enjoying these updates!!

• prefers cats over dogs. i can honestly see him as a big cat person and a-lot of them probably hang around his trailer.

• can’t stand pineapple on pizza and thinks it’s a mortal sin.

• when he went to prom, he was so embarrassed wearing his tuxedo, which he spruced up in his own style, and wayne made him stand outside by his van for a picture. “your momma would be proud.” he had said.

• has to keep busy and can’t stand not having anything to do. wayne got on to him once for breaking the mail box just so he could fix it.

• makes spoon rings for him and his hellfire friends. wayne had to buy a whole new set.

• wayne hangs up his report cards when he gets a c.

• made fun on nancy for liking sewing. was embarrassed when he realized how much he liked it. made his own fingerless gloves.

• has cuts and bruises all over himself and has no idea where they came from.

• definitely is into parkour and is attacking every object his feet find.

• he’s tried to work the grill with wayne during the summer but can’t ever work it without burning the food. he can’t cook at all.

• he’s a huge eater. he eats and eats and eats.

[eds6ngel]

why can i see either nancy or eddie being in absolute HEAVEN with a nara smith coded reader and them falling in love with their cooking and sweet domestic mannerisms during their relationship 🎀 can you please perhaps do a blurb on that with whoever you choose?

had to whip this up asap! i chose eddie as my brain conjured up some background quicker ♡ also i’m not the best baker/cook, so sorry for any inaccuracies !!

warnings: fem!reader (reader referred to as ‘momma’.) teen pregnancy mention. abortion mention. r is a stay-at-home mom. established relationship. kissing. swearing. food mentions. rockstar!eddie. eddie book context but i changed said context. just lots of fluff!! [0.6k].

Yours and Eddie’s lives hadn’t always been easy.

When you found out you were pregnant at 16-years-old, you were locked and loaded in to have an abortion. Your parents immediately agreed to the decision, wanting you to continue your education and graduate with your high school diploma.

However, after crying your eyes out the night before the scheduled appointment, you just couldn’t do it. And after nine long months of pregnancy, you gave birth to your baby girl Joni, named after Eddie’s mom’s favourite singer.

You moved in with Eddie and Wayne at the time, realising it was easier to take care of a baby in a smaller, more secluded home, rather than a family home full of your bustling, younger siblings.

But, luck managed to strike the two of you when a girl named Paige offered Corroded Coffin a record deal. Your boyfriend made it big.

Big enough that you bought your own home in the center of Indianapolis.

When Eddie wasn’t touring with the band, he would take over from you, looking after Joni whilst you got to doing your favourite activity: baking.

Eddie relished in the fact that he got to see you dancing around the kitchen in your pretty, little apron, decorated with strawberries and calligraphy writing that spelled ‘Kiss the Cook.’

He would always sneak up behind you when you were baking, making you shriek and pressing a firm kiss to your lips, teasing “Just following your apron, sweetheart,” with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What-cha makin’?” he would always ask with his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

And your answer could be anywhere from chocolate chip cookies to a new homemade stew, but, in typical baker fashion, you were always making bread.

“I attempted a new sourdough starter whilst you were off in Europe, and it seems to have worked this time! So, I’m attempting to make some sourdough bread for you.”

“Mmm,” he hums contently, “Sounds delicious.”

“I hope it is,” you replied, “I bought a store-bought one for Joni, but she literally turned her nose up at it. She’s got your fussiness, Munson.”

“I think fussiness is an understatement. She’s getting the rockstar attitude instead of me,” he chuckles.

“But, hey, at least we’re both fans of chocolate. Can always put that on our bread, can’t we, babe?” he yells to his daughter, who simply replies with ‘Dada.’ She’s not quite there with her words yet, but at least she knows who you both are, which is a good start.

“Well, the two of you might just be in luck. Take a look outside.”

Eddie reluctantly lets go of you and steps out into your shared garden to find a new tree had been planted.

“Babe, what is this?”

You cheese at him, “A cacao plant! I’m harvesting cacao beans so I can make authentic chocolate for you!”

Eddie literally moans in delight, running up to you and smacking a kiss onto your cherry-flavoured lips.

“You’re perfect. I love you. I can’t wait. I have to tell Joni.”

His energetic self bounces off to his child, literally singing “Baby, baby! Momma is the best!”

You love your little family so much. You can’t wait to marry Eddie one day so you can have more of his beautiful children. Children which he treated as his own personal best friends. But, maybe that’s what family was all about. Maybe it was creating and loving your own best friends on the deepest level possible.

taglist: @cosmorant @ye0nvibezzn @tlclick73 @superlegend216 @agxxb

eddie masterlist.

[lildashofheaven1]

Dating Him Head canons

Joseph Quinn x y/n

- The most level headed person you will meet… until someone screws you over, he’s pissed and lets that be known if that happens!

- Treats you SO WELL!! His momma raised him so right!

- Will do anything to make you happy, your hungry at 2am? Well get your hoodie on and he’ll get his car keys bc he’s driving you both to McDonalds

- You becoming BEST FRIENDS with jamie due to how often they meet up

- Joseph always having his hands on you, in interviews? His hands around your waist. Walking down the street? He’s holding your hand the whole way. Also definitely follows the sidewalk rule and will never let you walk on the roadside

- You meeting his family and them LOVING YOU!

- When you move into your own place he 100% follows the rule of ‘happy wife,happy life’

- Omfg y’all’s favourite holiday is Christmas for sure! He loves having his family around and the fact you enjoy spending time with them too!!

- Also Joseph loves summer time!! Having a BBQ in the back garden, couple drinks, and omg if Jamie comes round he definitely takes the piss out of joseph saying things as such ‘ we need to get you a kiss the cook apron mate’ to which joseph raises his middle finger at him and laughs

- Also joseph is always nominated head chef on BBQ days and you either lounge in the pool or sit and natter to him

- Being such a power couple to where fans cant eve be jealous they love you both so much

- BIG SPOON!! BIG SPOON!! And if you ever wanna be big spoon he gets jokingly offended

- Him calling you ‘babe,sweetheart,Darling, love’

- You never feeling alone with him

- He always makes a point to stop conversations if someone interrupts you when talking so you feel seen and heard

- You both always go to local theatres to watch plays and support the arts

- People always clipping the way he looks at you in interviews, a look of pure love and admiration

- Always bring you up in interviews if you aren’t there

- If you met on set of stranger things he always thanks eddie munson for getting you

- No matter what you do as a career he supports you 10000%

- When you have been together for around 2-3 years you discuss the idea of having kids, he obviously does bc he’s SO GOOD with kids whereas your a little more reserved

- However at a specific comic con where joseph interacted with a child it made your heart melt and you knew in that moment that if you both have a kid he’ll be with you for the long run