5 Bookmarks by lightfish
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Summary
Steve is starting to feel like his life is just one disaster after another. He didn't mean to make friends with Eddie Munson along the way, but for some reason he's always there, and if anyone knows how to get up again after being knocked down then it's him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 59,498
- Chapters:
- 11/11
- Collections:
- 3
- Comments:
- 813
- Kudos:
- 1,790
- Bookmarks:
- 482
- Hits:
- 24,247
Bookmarked by lightfish
09 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
wonderful. a hundred little tells scattered through that had me internally screaming
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Summary
For years and years, Eddie knew touch to be violent. Painful. A bruising grip around his arm in public, an open palm across his face at home. He’s not sure his dad ever actually loved him, not as much as he loved the authority he held over him. High school had him contending with violence from people who were supposed to be his peers. He was tolerated in middle school, but he supposes the children of Hawkin’s finest figured that fourteen years old was too old to express himself, and it was high time they fixed that problem with their fists.
Year after year, his whole life is a compilation of hands laid on him for all the wrong reasons.
or
Eddie gets a gnarly sunburn, and Steve wants to take care of him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,499
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 2
- Comments:
- 39
- Kudos:
- 793
- Bookmarks:
- 103
- Hits:
- 5,648
Bookmarked by lightfish
06 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
every word in this is surgical. I was not ready to be sliced open, but oh well 😭 so good
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Summary
A week later, their third room was emptied out, and Eddie Munson moved in.
Series
- Part 1 of goodnight chicago (die with a smile)
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“You’re stubborn and a hothead. You’re impossible to work with and you’re stuck in the past. Nancy said you’d be hard work but this is fucking ridiculous. I’m here to do a job. You won’t let me change or even suggest anything.”
“Not true. I did change the turmeric for saffron.”
“Yeah and you’re about this close to jumping off a bridge before admitting that it actually does taste better.”
Steve could strangle him.
Because yes. The saffron does taste better. The saffron tastes so much better and the dish now makes Steve’s tastebuds soar and his eyes water and the only thing worse than admitting Eddie is correct right now, is admitting that that dish is miles fucking better since Eddie puts his hands on it.
And Steve finds himself wondering for a split fucking moment in between the rage he’s feeling, if everything is better with Eddie’s hands on it.
or
Son of famous, michelin-star chef, Steve Harrington is trying to gain a star of his own after a stint in rehab that left him with a lack of inspiration, until his restaurant manager Nancy has an idea of her own to add a spark back into the kitchen.
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Summary
Eddie freezes, terrified that moving even an inch will break the spell. His arm stays where it is, draped across the couch, but he angles it just enough that it curves protectively around Steve’s shoulders. Not touching, not really.
And Eddie… God. Eddie’s done for. He can’t imagine a life without this guy anymore.
When did that happen? When did it change? When did Steve fucking Harrington go from the rich kid with perfect hair and too many friends to… this? To someone Eddie would fight monsters for. Someone he’d sit awake for, just to make sure he’s breathing okay. Someone who falls asleep against Eddie like Eddie is someone solid, someone safe.
It’s insane. It’s absolutely deranged. If his high school self could see this — Steve Harrington wrapped around him like some big, warm golden retriever of a hero — Eddie would’ve laughed in disbelief. Or passed out. Or both.
But reality is right here, breathing against his collarbone. Steve asleep beside him, trusting Eddie to watch over him. To stay.
Or: 5 times Steve falls asleep on Eddie and 1 time Eddie returns the favor.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 27,262
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 112
- Kudos:
- 772
- Bookmarks:
- 158
- Hits:
- 9,923
Bookmarked by lightfish
23 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
He feels those butterflies — the ones he keeps telling himself don’t exist — flutter violently in his stomach. The air shimmers with their silvery wings when he exhales, presses the back of his head against the couch cushion, mouth curling in a reluctant smile as he whispers to the ceiling, “Get a grip, Munson. Fuck.”
Loved this! So so good