Oh Golden Boy (don't Act Like You Were Kind)

Oh Golden Boy (don't Act Like You Were Kind)
Oh Golden Boy (don't Act Like You Were Kind)

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part iii: at your best you were magic

(this one has length, you guys, but the boys needed so much RESOLUTION 🄺)

for @kultiras at the ā„ļø Winter @steddieexchange šŸ–¤ā¤ļø

<<< part two // start at the beginning

Oh Golden Boy (don't Act Like You Were Kind)

Eddie kind of expects to be clocked hovering outside the window, or by the rattle of his van. He kinda expects to be left standing on the porch.

His heart’s fucking pounding, and he’s halfway to shivering because he didn’t wear a decent coat, because no one’s there anymore to bully him into being a little more aware of taking care of himself and he…he kinda feels like he did when he was running for his life, when they found him in Rick’s boathouse, he’s maybe gonna hyperventilate and wouldn’t that be a pretty fucking picture, pass out from lack of oxygen, or die flat-out, heart giving out on the steps of the man he loves, that heĀ lovesĀ and that he wasn’t good enough toĀ keepĀ and—

ā€œOh.ā€

It doesn’t even matter how flat it comes out: Eddie’s breath catches just to hear thatĀ voice, holyĀ fuck.

ā€œSteve.ā€

He can’t even keep the word in, that single name in his chest knocked clean to launch from his lips, and Steve…

Steve looks rough. Drawn, kinda pale but in that exhausted washed out way where he’s not just blanched for his skin tone but in a way that makes the saturation of his wholeĀ selfĀ seem washed out and sallow. He’s got more stubble than he normally allows, much as Eddie has enjoyed the hell out of that gorgeous scruff now and again—he knows Steve only lets it get that way when they fuck too many hours in a row to want to get out of bed and properly plan to leave, or of he’s sick, or anxious, or…

Not good.

Eddie thinks it’s probably the generally not-good thing that’s to blame, here.

And yet somehow he’s still the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen in his whole fucking life. No contest.

God, Eddie’s so fucking gone on him. All he wants is to reach, and pull him close, and keep all the sour things from his heart. All Eddie wants is to fucking…loveĀ him. For the rest of his goddamnĀ life.

ā€œI,ā€ Eddie’s voice comes out raw, sandpaper rubbing to bleed; he would have wanted better,Ā SteveĀ deserved him to be better no matter what they were, what they weren’t, what they’d never be or maybe could be—but Eddie knows he’s weak as a rule, and here and now he breaks clean open, heart cleaving straight down the middle to bleed free because…

Fuck: Eddie had been hurting for being without Steve, but he’d underestimated just how much seeing him, breathing his air again would undo him. The sheerĀ reliefĀ down to his cells, just to know in his bones that Steve was in the world. He’d been less than a shell, he’d been only half-floating through the world on his own for the way he’d healed himself around the give and take of Steve and to know it again, even just at arm’s length, feels like breaking water for the first time after drowning, but then it every single atom of him had been diminished on its own, then started vibrating again all at once after a fucking age spent stopped-dead.

ā€œWhat are you doing here?ā€

Of all the things Eddie could hate out of the situation he’s standing in—outside ofĀ anythingĀ andĀ everythingĀ that surrounds the fact of Steve, all that isĀ SteveĀ because that could never be hated at all—but ofĀ all the things to hate, the worst is maybe how flat Steve’s tone is. And worse?

How Eddie can’tĀ read him. How, how did Eddie…

How did EddieĀ loseĀ that?

ā€œI,ā€ Eddie moves his mouth, lips stretching awkward around the sound, and he’s adrift, man, he’s fucking loose ends with no hope of ever tying together, ever tethering to anything but the man in front of him, he believes that in hisĀ soul: with anyone else, anywhere butĀ here, and Eddie would still just have this collection of stray threads of what it means to be himself, just reaching for Steve fucking Harrington forever and for always, holyĀ fuck, and—

ā€œI’m,ā€ he grasps as best he can at the straws of what it means to form a thought, but all of what he comes up with is insufficient, rehashes the same core sentiment:Ā I’m less of a person when I’m not with you, I’m scared by what that means but I’m more scared by what it means not to have you, I’mĀ mostĀ scared by how hollow your eyes look and how dry your hair is at the ends because I pay attention where maybe almost everyone else has been letting that slide under the radar, I’m so fucking in love with you I think they could cut me open and only find you inside, I’m yours and I will be yours long after I’m more soil than corpse in the fucking ground, I’m—

ā€œJesus,ā€ Steve huffs, and something in Eddie’s chest perks up at the bitchy little tone he throws put as he seems to give up on whatever was letting him stand in the doorway as he throws the door open and backs up into the hall, waving Eddie’s direction with too much resignation: ā€œget in here, you’re gonna get frostbite, man.ā€

And maybe there’s a plummeting in Eddie’s gut at the tone but…he doesn’t need to be told twice.

He also doesn’t need to experience the thickness of the tension that descends immediately between them once the door clicks closed, suffocating, burning in his lungs.

ā€œHey,ā€ the word gets punched out of him, not least because Eddie’s a little afraid that he won’t be able to draw another breath to get anything further said.

ā€œHey.ā€

And Eddie still can’t fuckingĀ readĀ him, and holyĀ shit, does it sting.

ā€œSteve,ā€ he only just manages not to moan but then—

ā€œWhy are you here?ā€

And it’s so…toneless. Kinda curt. SoĀ bluntĀ and somehow Eddie feels it more like a spike, a fucking harpoon through his sternum that drags bloody against his heart with every goddamn beat.

ā€œI,ā€ Eddie licks his lips; ā€œDustin, he wasā€”ā€

ā€œOh,ā€ Steve sighs a little, bitter at the edges and Eddie’s just grateful that it’sĀ something; ā€œhe send you?ā€

And Eddie doesn’t expect to feel it like a slap to his fucking face like this but: fuck if he doesn’t. Fuck if that’s notĀ exactlyĀ what it is.

ā€œNo oneĀ sentĀ me,ā€ Eddie’s fucking quick to correct that because Dustin may have begged him, but Eddie thinks his heart’s been ready to scramble to Steve’s doorstep and maybe just fucking grovel and promise to try and be whatever about him made Steve happy to begin with, or not be whatever put Steve off of him and they could be happy again, maybe, and Eddie’s chest could feel less in a vise all the goddamn time.

ā€œHe, uh,ā€ and Eddie stumbles a little around giving context when all Steve does is raise a doubtful brow at his denial that he’s here primarily because of anyone but himself.

ā€œHe said some stuff that,ā€ Eddie swallows hard, works his throat around a lot of half-formed things he doesn’t think he can quite get out before he ultimately just rasps:

ā€œI got worried.ā€

ā€œNice of you,ā€ Steve laughs a little save there’s no humor, sniffs a little and it’d read haughty if you didn’t know what to look for, if you couldn’t tell that Steve’s eyes are stretched too wide, and shine a little too bright and his hand’s twitching to rise to the bridge of his nose and pinch which only ever means—

ā€œNot necessary though.ā€

And it’s so hollow, it’s just…it’s filled with so muchĀ nothing, those words, that voice, that it’s an anguish all on its own, andĀ fuck, but how Eddie’s voice breaks on the next words that he doesn’t even give conscious consent to even come out at all:

ā€œYou’re supposed to beĀ happy, Stevie.ā€

He feels the way his lashes stick as he blinks too fast, his heartĀ hurtingĀ because Steve looks like he’s in fucking pain and why are theyĀ both in pain—

But Steve’s expression is all scrunched up, and he’s frowning, fucking baffled at Eddie from across the space, so small, cramped to the wall next to the closed front door but as good as a continent, an ocean stretched between for how Eddie’s can feel his heat, can’tĀ reach, and then Steve’s squinting and near snapping:

ā€œWhat?ā€

And it’s said so sharp but then weirdly without theĀ biteĀ in its anding, like he’s too worn down, too drained somehow to manage it, or even really want to. Eddie..

Eddie isn’t sure he wants to keep learning just how many times, how many ways a heart can fucking break.

ā€œI,ā€ Eddie’s throat’s dry as shit and he cannot possibly care because his heart’s pounding in a way he doesn’t know he’s felt before, because it’s all wrong, isn’t it, it’s all so fuckingĀ wrong; ā€œwhatever I was doing that was bringing you down,ā€ he shakes his head, desperate as he leans forward to Steve as far as he dares, closer but not close enough, never closeĀ enough:

ā€œIf I’m gone, you’re supposed to beĀ happyĀ and it’s like,ā€ Eddie groans, and maybe it’s more of a whine really, fuck it all, that fits, that fucking makes sense because; ā€œyou didn’t want me here anymore, so Iā€”ā€

ā€œI never said I didn’t want you here.ā€

Eddie startles, heart in his throat again and hammering, violent and hellbent as Steve cuts him off, voice bowstring-taut where it cuts through the mounted tension, but does nothing to diminish it in the process; does nothing to ease the way it makes Eddie’s pulse work harder, desperate to fight the weight of it.

ā€œI have never onceĀ wantedĀ you to beĀ anywhereĀ but here,ā€ and Steve’s voice is fucking…painedĀ and just, just:Ā how?

ā€œStevie,ā€ Eddie pleads, because he doesn’t fuckingĀ understand; ā€œyou flinched when IĀ touchedĀ you,ā€ and Steve does it just then, the slightest bit; Eddie’s chest clenches just at the echo of it.

ā€œYou moved away from my mouth when I tried to kiss you,ā€ and oh, how that had hurt, how that had withered things in Eddie’s ribs that never died long, just regrew to be burned back because Eddie didn’t know how not to love Steve, didn’tĀ wantĀ to know such an unthinkable thing: but good fuckingĀ god, if it didn’t start to hurt worse than dying when Steve stopped wanting him—and Eddie was okay with it not being love, for Steve, with it being too much or maybe too soon but he’d…

He’d believed what they had was something beautiful; he’d clung maybe foolishly to the possibility of…maybe SteveĀ somedayĀ growing into love with him.

And then he’d pulled back; then he’dĀ spurnedĀ Eddie’s affection with his body, he didn’t even have to say it, it was sown in hisĀ skin, he…

ā€œThat’s not truā€”ā€ Steve starts, tone tight as he tries to defend but: no. No, Eddie hadn’t fucking created his own heartbreak from whole cloth, withoutĀ reason.

ā€œYou turned, repeatedly,ā€ Eddie hates that it comes out as accusatory as it does, but he…he wasn’t fucking imagining it, he hadn’t been because you can’t make up that kind of knife in your chest, youĀ can’t.

ā€œYou tried to make it look like a coincidence. But when you keep getting your mouth on the man you loā€”ā€ and Eddie, he chokes it back as much as it wants to come out, to be spoken and known even if it’s not returned,Ā neverĀ returned because it’s not going away, it’s never goingĀ away, but he, he—

He can’t. Not…notĀ now.

ā€œWhen you keep getting your mouth on your guy’s cheek and not his lips,Ā damn,ā€ Eddie’s breathing shudders; ā€œyou fuckin’ notice.ā€

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his gaze has shifted to the ground. Eddie…doesn’t know if he should take that as permission to keep going. He doesn’t even know if he wants to keep going in the first place.

His heartbeat’s still a torrent, though, and he…he doesn’t know if he could stop the words that come next if he tried.

ā€œYou stayed on your side of the bed all curled up, like you,ā€ Eddie swallows hard, because what he’s about to say out loud fuckingĀ hurtsĀ to put into words; goddamn—because he thinks it’sĀ true:

ā€œYou made yourself small to not be near me.ā€

Steve’s shoulders shift, then, but he doesn’t move, just keeps staring at the floor.

ā€œYou won’t even look at me when all your plans to avoid me go wrong and we actually miraculously end up in the same place because of the kids,ā€ Eddie keeps going because he’s opened the floodgates, he’s let the feeling in him sneak through and it was too fucking big, it tore off the dams he tried to put in place to hold it all at bay; ā€œif you can’t get away quick enough, every time I almost catch your eyes you look like you’re in pain,ā€ and he looks like it now, he looks like he’s just made ofĀ hurting: ā€œyou jump like you gotĀ burnt.ā€

Steve’s next inhale is a sharp gasp of a thing. Eddie tries very hard not to feel something like victory to getĀ somereaction from him.

He fails miserably.

ā€œRobinĀ hissesĀ at me when I seeĀ her,ā€ Eddie keeps on, because he wasn’t lying, the gates have been obliterated, there are no guardrails left for the way his heart’s such a mess and it’s spilling onto everything,Ā intoĀ everything; ā€œand I’m convinced she’s basically your subconscious manifest when it comes to who she turns her venom on,ā€ and even Eddie would have missed it if he hadn’t been fixated unwavering on Steve in all of his glory, now: those lips don’t quirk, exactly, but they move the slightest bit.

Eddie, again, didn’t really think that his heart could learn to break inĀ any more ways, but: here he is.

ā€œYou didn’t pick up the phoneā€”ā€ he damn near fucking moans because it hurts, it still hurts, it might always hurt—

ā€œYou didn’t leave a message.ā€

Steve’s volley is clipped, a not-so-subtle indictment, gaze flicking upward when he speaks and Eddie’s caught in thoseĀ sadĀ fucking eyes so swift and complete, it feels like all that he is might be forfeit in their hold.

He’s okay with that, though. He’sĀ beenĀ okay with that—more than.

It’s when he’sĀ nothingĀ to that gaze, when Steve can’t even bring himself toĀ look, that Eddie starts to crumble.

ā€œThe machine isn’t on,ā€ he breathes out, barely a whisper, and Steve just blinks, then looks back at the ground and Eddie…Eddie’s not this strong, y’know? Eddie’s been barelyĀ anythingĀ forĀ weeks, in so many ways, and he…he can’t just keep holding himself together when all he sees is Steve inĀ pain, when his own pain makes himĀ weakĀ on top ofĀ everythingbegs.

ā€œSteve,ā€ he murmurs, nothing short of a plea for fucking mercy, for this man to take pity and maybe just explain a little, help Eddie understand where it all went wrong; ā€œtalk to me.ā€

And Eddie isn’t expecting it when it happens, given the mostly-stoic mask Steve’s perfected to keep him at bay: but when Steve breathes in deep and the motion, the sound of it shatters around something broken like a sob?

Eddie breaks right along with it.

ā€œJesus,ā€ he half-gasps; ā€œyou need to sit down, sweetheart, come on,ā€ because Steve’s shaking, fuckingĀ shakingĀ where he stands; ā€œhere, Iā€”ā€

And Eddie reaches, hand fucking trembling as he forces himself to keep enough distance for it toĀ haveĀ to be Steve’s choice to touch, because if Steve doesn’t want him, if Steve doesn’t wantĀ any of him, ever, then Eddie has to learn that’s what his world is, that’s what his world will always be, no matter how his heart aches with it all and—

Steve steps, leans, and Eddie doesn’t need more assent than that; feels his nerves light up when Steve gives into his touch, doesn’t shy from the way Eddie’s grip tightens on his arms as he walks them slow from the door to the living room, to the couch where he settles Steve carefully near where the throw pillows will cushion him; reins himself in from finding a blanket he knows is in the cabinet hidden by the TV and wrapping Steve up tight in it, keeps himself from sitting next to him too close, stops himself from gathering Steve in his arms, but…he can’t go too far.

HeĀ can’t.

ā€œThis okay?ā€ Eddie asks gently as he can when he settles down the shortest distance away that he can justify, that he thinks he can get away with; Steve doesn’t stop him, doesn’t react and Eddie’ll fucking take that.

He doesn’t even wholly-consciously put his hand, palm-up, on the cushion between them; certainly doesn’t expect anything but for Steve to scoot further from it once he realizes it’s there, but then—

Then Steve’s hand is landing in Eddie’s, and Eddie…after the shock settles, he fucking folds his grip around Steve so goddamnĀ tight.

And Steve doesn’t fucking flinchĀ away.

ā€œTalkĀ to me, Stevie,ā€ Eddie breathes out, his heart doing wild things for the way it feels to touch that skin again, even so slight, so innocent: it’sĀ everything. ā€œStevie,Ā please,ā€ and he wasn’t above begging before; with Steve’s hand in his he’s sure as shit not above it, now.

Eddie thinks he’s holding out for nothing, then he scolds himself—he’s not holding out forĀ nothing, he’s got Steve’sĀ handĀ in hisĀ hand, he can feel Steve’s pulse at the wrist and yeah it’s too heavy, it’s too fast and all Eddie ever wanted to was to be the safe place that Steve’s tension could ease into but the proof of life, ofĀ Steve,Ā here, withĀ him, is enough, it’sĀ enoughĀ and Eddie is a rich man beyond measure, he’s, he is, it’s—

ā€œI’m,ā€ Eddie jumps a little, clings tighter to the palm pressed against his own when that voice scratches low into the space between them, and then starts to bleed feeling deep and unbridled when Steve whispers harsh:

ā€œIt was already so fucking hard, before I loved you.ā€

And Eddie…look.

Eddie’s felt ice run through him before. He’s felt it when he ran terrified from what it meant to face down death. He’s felt it in another dimension as the bat bites stole the life from him. He’s felt it in his room because he’d lost the sun he’d shaped his world to orbit around, to draw life from.

But…Eddie’s not sure he’s felt it take him over quite like it does just now; like it does when he has to ask, because there’s nothing else for it, he has to know and so he has to be the one to invite the ice into all he holds dear and maybe fucking ruin them both when he says it, pushes them past this point of no return:

ā€œWhat’s hard, Stevie?ā€

And he waits, again, and tries not to fall for being too greedy, for getting too much when he’s grown horribly accustomed toĀ nothing, and he should just give thanks for the way he can hear Steve breathe, a fucking miracle, aĀ gift; he doesn’t dwell on just how much the idea of Steve answering, of SteveĀ speakingĀ more andĀ tellingĀ Eddie what went wrong, whereĀ EddieĀ maybe went wrong—

ā€œLosing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me,ā€ is what Steve says, plain like reciting a law of physics, a rule of the universe. ā€œAnd I wasn’t even in love with you yet.ā€

Eddie…feels bowled over and a little light-headed. Steve…loved him? He knew heĀ lovedĀ him like he loved the Party at large, fought for them all, would stupidly give his whole fucking life for each and every one of them but…this kinda sounds likeĀ more, and maybe Eddie’s just got rose-colored glasses over it all, maybe he’s suffocating himself under the veil of wishful thinking—

But then he sobers because: loved.Ā Loved. Maybe it’s just what he’s saying and how he’s saying it, like, incidental.

But it also sounds…past tense. And Eddie’s heart, like; Eddie thinks somehow his heartĀ wailsĀ for the idea that he had this singular, precious man, maybe even his singular, preciousĀ heart, all this time, but now, now he doesn’t, and—

ā€œI can’t sleep. I’m justā€¦ā€ Steve shudders, and Eddie, he has to just grip harder to Steve’s hand; if he can’t hold to more of him, he has to holdĀ hardĀ to what he’s allowed, what heĀ doesĀ have.

ā€œI woke up next to you, the most random morning, nothing out of the ordinary,ā€ Steve says it, voice a little distant, all of it sounding more like a story than anything save for how Eddie can still feel Steve’s rabbit heart under his fingertips.

ā€œAnd I realized how fucking deep I was in this,ā€ and Steve turns Eddie’s hand a little in his own, spins one of his rings like he used to and Eddie’s breath catches for it because it feels too intimate, it feels tooĀ right, like a dream that’ll fade so fast, that’ll decimate him all over again, what’sĀ leftĀ of him, in an instant when it’s gone again.

ā€œSo fast, I know,ā€ and Steve says it like he has to justify his heart like this, and Eddie’s struck with the stark realization of just how well he must have been able to hide what he thought he’d been broadcasting to the fucking cosmos despite his best efforts not to be too much, or too intense, or too insane.

Not to broadcast to the world the obvious truth that his heart got rewired early to beat in the rhythm that spelledĀ Steve HarringtonĀ out in the goddamn stars—but Steve doesn’t seem to have seen it. Or maybe…didn’t believe what it was if he did catch a glimpse.

Fuck.

ā€œAnd it was never about, like, what if you didn’t feel the same, or weren’t ready, that’s not, I mean,ā€ Steve tosses his head a little, and it’s not just that the concept is already absolutely absurd—how could Eddie know Steve,Ā trulyĀ come to know Steve, and be anything but ready to offer all that he is to him in half-a-blink?—but it’s more than that, it’s that Eddie canĀ feelĀ that it’s just going to get worse, that it’s going to be more devastating when Steve finishes that thought—

ā€œI’m used to that, I wasn’t planning onĀ sayingĀ anything, at least not yet.ā€

That.Ā ThatĀ is more devastating, because how can Steve beĀ usedĀ to not being loved with everything, it never fails to break Eddie when it’s pointed out, when he’s reminded that so many people had hurt him, had failed him, and now, now…hadĀ EddieĀ done it too, without ever meaning—

But even more than all of that, fuckingĀ selfishly: Steve had been thinking of things in terms ofĀ not yet. Of aĀ future, where they hadĀ love.

Eddie’s heart’s fuckingĀ sickĀ with it, reluctant to pump at all because it just…it just feels pointless.

What had he fuckingĀ done?

ā€œIt wasn’t something I even planned on having change how IĀ acted, really,ā€ Steve’s continuing on, like the things he’s saying aren’t earth-shattering, soul-torching; ā€œrealizing I was like, whole-heart, soul-deep in love with you wasā€¦ā€ and Steve just shakes his head and oh, oh but his lips kinda curve, he kindaĀ smiles, and it’s…

It’s full of so muchĀ regret, like, aĀ wistfulĀ thing in the worst goddamn way, and Eddie doesn’t think he can recover from this. He…doesn’t even know where toĀ start.

ā€œIt wasn’t that new, right, it didn’t justĀ happen, the only sudden part was putting it together, like, consciously,ā€ Steve lays out like he’s making a map to try and explain to Eddie how his heart moves, as if Eddie hasn’t been making a study of that singular thing for months, planning to continue it for a lifetime, and apparentlyĀ still failing to realize so much that he’s missed.

ā€œSo it’s not like, I meanā€¦ā€ Steve worries his lower lip; ā€œI’d still treat you the same, y’know? I didn’t have to change. And you didn’t have to know.ā€

ā€œBut,ā€ Eddie can’t hold himself back before his mouth moves before he thinks twice, automatic because; ā€œyouā€¦ā€

The way Steve changed, the wayĀ theyĀ changed was…that’s the reason for all of it, and if Steve specifically hadn’t—

ā€œOh don’t worry,ā€ Steve bites, so fucking sarcastic, so dismayed and so…goddamn resigned, unconscionablyĀ disgusted:

ā€œI’m fuckingĀ wellĀ aware.ā€

And Steve folds in on his himself, and Eddie…Eddie can’t maintain the distance anymore. If Steve doesn’t want it, he’ll move back but he, he needs to be close enough that Steve could fall into him, if he wanted—

It takes less than a heartbeat, and given how Eddie’s pulse is auditioning for the role of a caged birdĀ sobbing, it’s swift: as soon as he’s close enough to think he can feel how Steve’s body moves the air around him just for breathing, never once letting go of Steve’s hand in the process, Steve’s following the slightest pull Eddie gives on that hand, and falling into Eddie’s side.

And fuck if Eddie doesn’t wrap around him theĀ instantĀ he’s pressed against him; if he doesn’t tuck Steve into him and keep him under his arm; doesn’t sink into and relish the way the weight of Steve’s head goes just to the side of his chest, can undoubtedly hear the cacophony inside, and…he just presses harder,Ā nearer.

Eddie might fuckingĀ cry.

ā€œNightmares,ā€ Steve finally croaks, and the way it resonates, the way it hangs foreboding as a horror is thick in Eddie veins. ā€œLike I’ve never had before, not afterĀ anyĀ of it,ā€ and he shivers, ducks somehow closer into Eddie’s collarbone, like he means to hide and of course Eddie will keep him, will shield him, will protect him from the whole goddamn world. For anything and everything.

For fuckingĀ ever.

ā€œI know what your chest feels like without a heartbeat I can find,ā€ Steve turns his face further into Eddie’s chest, will damn well fucking feel the skip of that heartbeat that’d be a trialĀ notĀ to find just now, and oh, oh just:Ā Stevie.

ā€œWhat your mouth feels like without breath coming out, what your lips feel like cold,ā€ and he sounds so tormented, soĀ wreckedĀ but then beyond that: disassembled and left for carrion, unforgivable—Steve should only be treasured, not taken apart and…discarded.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t discard him, he wouldĀ never.

So how theĀ fuckĀ did they end up here, like this, where Eddie’s just trying to hold Steve close enough, steady enough that he can staunch all the invisible, undeniableĀ bleedingĀ in him?

ā€œI know what your blood tastes like,ā€ Steve breathes into the notch between his clavicles; ā€œbecause it was all over when I tried to breathe for you.ā€

Steve’s mouth’s right there when Eddie’s breath caches, when the whine brews just under his lips where they drag sloppy against Eddie’s shirt, wet on the cotton and so alive, soĀ alive—

ā€œI know howĀ myĀ heart stopped when I thought it had all be for nothing,ā€ Steve whispers there, and then holds where Eddie knows he can feel the pulse; ā€œthat I’d failed you, thatā€”ā€

And Steve shakes his head, and Eddie makes to speak, to tell Steve he couldĀ neverĀ fail him, notĀ ever, but Steve seems to have broken his own floodgates, now, and he spills:

ā€œBut that’s wasn’t new, right, so I wasn’t expecting any of it to shift, y’know? Like, if anything I figured, withĀ loveĀ in the mix it’d be more, like, fear of rejection, shit from, just, with all the girls, with Nance, like all that old high school bullshit would be what reared its head,ā€ he laughs, the most tragic sort of agony in the sound where it never should be, where there should only ever be Steve’sĀ joy:

ā€œBut nope. Nope, my scrambled goddamn brain decided fuck that, let’s try something else.ā€

And Eddie can’t seem to get any words out anymore, now, much as he wants to. His mouth’s too dry, throat too tight. He just clings,Ā clingsĀ soĀ tightĀ and fucking…prays that Steve can feel in his hold, in his heartbeat, in everything between them here and now, that he loves all of Steve. That all he is, is committed to making sure that Steve doesn’tĀ hurtsĀ like this anymore, ever again.

If Steve will let him.

ā€œI didn’t want you to leave,ā€ Steve whispers, ā€œI never,ā€ and he shakes his head, smashes his lips over his teeth, jaw tense enough to twitch and Eddie just wants to fix it, just wants to ease all of it and make SteveĀ okay, and somehow make up for how he—despite never meaning to, despite neverĀ choosingĀ to be—seems to be the reason Steve’s in such turmoil, suchĀ pain.

ā€œI can see how it looked like that, like, I hear what you’re saying and I get it, but,ā€ Steve licks his lips, brow furrowing in the way Eddie loves to smooth but he doesn’t think he can, now, doesn’t think he should and it’s twice the wound just to watch like this: to know it might not be welcome, and to know that Steve may have to hurt here, beyond Eddie’s capacity to soothe, in trying to work through what it is that’s gutting him so harsh.

ā€œWhen you’d reach for me, sometimes it would jolt me out of the, like, fog of it all,ā€ Steve finally says it, tells him without looking to make eye contact but he’s tracing Eddie’s fingers, now, and it feels…significant; ā€œbecause it’s the worst when I sleep, when I see all the what-ifs, but when I wake up it always lingers, and I get lost in it all the same, it all hits just a little different from what’s actually happening and then from the dreams, how it was when I’d watched just seconds before, when you’d,ā€ and as much the words dry up in an instant, choked on a swallowed-down sob, Eddie can hear the obvious ringing out as if it was ripped straight from that precious fucking chest, raw and bloody:

When in the dreams, you’dĀ died.

ā€œYou in reality was just, so opposite to what everything in my head sticks on?ā€ Steve breathes, less a question than a plea for Eddie to accept what he’s saying, to understand andĀ believe, as if Eddie would,Ā couldĀ do anything else; as if the way the sheer truth of it in Steve’s aching tone isn’t soaking into the layers of Eddie’s fucking heart and flaying the pieces apart in real time. ā€œThe echos, the, umm,ā€ Steve swallows, and Eddie cannot look away from the way how he swallows stretches the skin of his throat; ā€œthe ghosts of the horror shows I get on repeat every time I close my eyes,ā€ he screws his eyes shut, then, like it’s muscle memory, like it’s ordained and unavoidable, to recoil from the magnitude of what haunts him in the night.

ā€œLike, how could you be touching me, when you wereā€¦ā€

Steve lifts their clasped hands to his mouth and Eddie nearly comes apart for how it feels, but then at the very same time he aches for the way Steve’s hand can’t wholly stop trembling, even as he pulls Eddie’s pulsepoint to the swell of his lips where he murmurs:

ā€œHow could you beĀ warm?ā€

Eddie watches, refuses to blink, as Steve holds there, breathes there, nuzzles a little against Eddies wrist and drags his lips there, back and forth and Eddie might fucking die here and now, like this, because it’s perfection, but at the same time, it’s devastation incarnate.

It’s pure fuckingĀ pain.

ā€œI didn’t want to make you feel how the,ā€ Steve’s throat clicks for how hard he swallows; ā€œhow the things in my head felt. Especially after the first few times,ā€ he shakes his head, and Eddie can taste his own pulse for how hard it beats at the base of his throat; ā€œI couldn’t tell what was real, when you were against me. Because it felt more real then anything, but I’d justĀ watchedĀ you,ā€ and again, the unspoken is louder than words themselves could ever be:

But I’d just watched youĀ die.

Eddie wants nothing more than to slice himself open somehow, and gather Steve inside him and hold him closer than close, so that he can know all the reassurance he needs and Eddie can know it too, at the very same time; so they can know each other’s lifeblood as close as their own, because for Eddie, Steve’s is closer, meansĀ moreĀ than his own: he just wants to gather Steve close andĀ keepĀ him so fucking safe. Keep the whole of him,Ā unwavering.

ā€œIt scared the hell out of me, but then the first time I woke you up,ā€ Steve closes his eyes, bites at his lip again.

ā€œYou were out of it, I think I scared you, too, and I couldn’t even see everything beautiful about you withoutĀ seeing,ā€ and Steve’s voice is a harrowing thing, is so fuckingĀ gutted out, and Eddie just wants to be…Eddie just needs to go back to that moment, he can’t even remember the moment where he didn’t even know he failed to make Steve feel better, safer, not fuckingĀ aloneĀ and all he wants is to go back and find that turning point and turn it on its head. Make itĀ right.

But then Steve is gabbing his hand, and lacing their fingers so tight it fucking hurts in the best possible way, before he breathes out a whisper:

ā€œIt was theĀ worst thing that’s ever happened to me, when it actually happened,ā€ and they both know he means the bats, and the blood, and the red lightning sky; ā€œbut it’s like my brain got stuck there, like it stopped at the losing and not what came after,ā€ and Steve brings Eddie’s hands up to his lips and less kisses, more buries his face in Eddie’s hands and just breathes before he moans a little around the words left:

ā€œIt got stuck, and it just runs from there.ā€

And if that’s not the simplest line of pure ruinousĀ hurtĀ that Eddie’s ever heard, holyĀ fuck.

ā€œStevie,ā€ and it’s Eddie who moans around the word, now, because god, his baby’s been aching with all this for…for howĀ long?

ā€œYou hold your breath sometimes when we kiss,ā€ Steve says, more incidental on the back of a breath, mostly air around the moving of his lips; ā€œand when my head’s been like this, just, soaked inĀ this, I can’tā€”ā€

And, oh.

Oh, Steve’s…Steve’s telling himĀ why. He’s explaining why he, why he did all the…why he turned away, why he pulledĀ back, and oh, ohĀ god—

ā€œRobin doesn’t know all the details,ā€ he pushes on, and Eddie can see how he’s biting down on his tongue fucking hard behind his lips; ā€œI’m sorry she’s been,ā€ he huffs a little, tips his head as he circles his thumb a little against Eddie’s knuckle; ā€œgrowly at you.ā€

ā€œDon’t be sorry,ā€ Eddie breathes, cupping Steve’s face because he…heĀ needsĀ to, he needs to show him he’s cherished, that Eddie’s heart is his, fucking beats for him and belongs to him and he, he is…

ā€œBaby, don’t be sorry about anything, please don’t beĀ sorry,ā€ Eddie begs because, because fuck: ā€œI’mĀ the one who’s sorry,ā€ and he is, he’s so sorry, he didn’tĀ knowĀ but he never wants Steve to hurt and he’s only made Steve hurt harder because he thought he understood and was doing what he could to help and in truth he was doing anythingĀ but—

ā€œI couldn’t look at you because my heart hurt,ā€ Steve turns his face into the palm Eddie’s framed against his cheek; ā€œand I know you stepped away because I can’t get my shit together, because I’m losing my fucking mind and,ā€ but he didn’t, he didn’t and he wants to say it but Steve’s barreling on, convinced as fuck and that’s, that’s notĀ okay; ā€œand I know, of course I know that it’s better that you don’t go down with me, I know that. But fuck,ā€ Steve laughs in that terrible, self-sacrificing way that has no idea what he’s worth, what heĀ means:

ā€œI don’t know what hurts more, the dreams or the waking hours when I see you and you aren’t, you don’t feel,ā€ Steve’s words catch again, and he shakes his head into Eddie’s hold, breathes as Eddie strokes his cheek and holds him, just holds him until he can say the rest:

ā€œLosing you like that is worse, but it’s not real,ā€ Steve swallows hard, keeps his eyes clenched shut tight like that’s the only way he can manage to keep going; ā€œlosing you likeĀ thisĀ is better, because you’re still,ā€ and Steve’s fingers find the pulse at his wrist again—because somewhere, it’s still beating:

ā€œBut then, it’s theĀ truth, and,ā€ Steve’s voice cracks and god, this man, this beautiful man…

ā€œIt just hurts,ā€ Steve says ā€œsoĀ goddam much andā€”ā€

ā€œThat’s not the truth.ā€

Eddie can’t keep waiting, just to let Steve keep circling this horrific pit of agony, for all the things they both misunderstood, for all the hurting they’ve both breathed through too long.

No more. Steve blinks up at him, and…yeah.

Eddie’s turn, now.

ā€œI am yours,ā€ Eddie pledges like his whole life’s behind it, and in truth: it is. It absolutelyĀ is.

ā€œAnd I feel so fuckingĀ muchĀ Stevie-baby,ā€ Eddie whispers, because there’s something profound in it, and there’s something magical and beautiful and sacred inside all Eddie feels so much of, and it needs to be revered accordingly as he traces Steve’s cheekbone, the bow of his lips with nothing less than worship. ā€œI didn’t think people were built to love like this. I’ve never seen it. I didn’t know it was a thing to feel at all until now.ā€

He means it. Steve’s gaping at him a little, marveling a little even, maybe, but it’s not an unbelievable thing. Because this is Eddie Munson’s heart. For Steve Harrington.

This is theĀ onlyĀ thing.

ā€œAnd IĀ amĀ sorry,ā€ Eddie exhales all that he has in him to give to an apology because he isĀ sorry, he thinks thatĀ sorrymight be seeping out his pores: whatever he did to cause this, whatever extent of a part he played, as much as he never wished or planned to.

He’s fuckingĀ sorry.

ā€œI didn’t leave, I just,ā€ he tries to explain, tries to prove somehow that no matter how fucked it all came out to be, he could neverĀ leaveĀ hisĀ Stevie.

ā€œI didn’t leaveĀ you, not at all like you’re thinking,ā€ he kisses Steve’s temple, and then draws him close to speak into his skin, like he can press it deep enough for Steve to know without a shred of doubt as he strokes Steve’s hair, tangles his fingers and holds him dear, breathes him in.

ā€œI thought maybe you needed space, but I should haveĀ asked,ā€ Eddie laments with a waver in his voice, eyes watering because fuck,Ā fuck:

ā€œI wanted to be what you needed so bad I hurt you on the way,ā€ and isn’t that the fucking kicker? Isn’t that the gut punch, the unbearable truth at the core.

ā€œThen I stayed away, because all signs pointed to it beingĀ me,ā€ Eddie murmured into the crown of Steve’s head; ā€œbut that was just because I’m scared, because loving you this much is bigger than I can hold sometimes,ā€ and he makes himself pull back so he can meet Steve’s eyes, red-rimmed to match Eddie’s where they’re actively streaming now as he breathes out the truth of his deepest, truest fuckingĀ soul:

ā€œYou’re the best thing I could ever ask for and I,ā€ and he bends his forehead to Steve’s, breathes there for a handful of beats:

ā€œI didn’t want to push you, and ruin it,ā€ he confesses as the weakness that drove him to cause so much suffering, in only hoping toĀ help. ā€œI didn’t want to lose you, because I’m selfish, and havingĀ youĀ taught me a whole new level of what made breathing worthwhile,ā€ and he brings Steve’s hands both to his chest now, presses them tight to the shaky rise and fall, the tremorous hammering underneath as he speaks clear the only truth heĀ reallyĀ knows:

ā€œHeart andĀ soulĀ I love you, Steve.ā€

And Steve’s hand on his chest clenches, and Steve’s breathing stumbles, and EddieĀ lovesĀ him.

So goddamnĀ much.

ā€œI didn’t mean to leave you, I would neverĀ meanĀ to,ā€ Eddie tells him, shaky and watery with the tears that are still falling; ā€œI thought I was doing what was right,ā€ he huffs, because, nice fucking work on that one, Munson, definitely bet on the winning goddamn horse there, JesusĀ Christ.

ā€œI never, ever wanted to hurt you, I couldĀ neverĀ want to hurt you, I’d rather cut my own arm off, my own heart out,ā€ and he turns his head the slightest bit, so he can find skin to kiss how much heĀ means thisĀ into:

ā€œI am so fucking sorry.ā€

Steve chases his mouth and Eddie leans, keeps himself pressed up close to speak straight against him as he gathers Steve’s hands at his chest a little tighter, tries to convey everything he might do with his eyes with the rest of his body now, with the way his voice floods with the heart of him whole:

ā€œCould you ever,ā€ he stammers a little, because he…he doesn’t want to face what it means if the answer to what he’s about to ask is set to break him apart all over again.

But heĀ loves this man, and now that he has what could be a chance—Steve can’t be leaning into his touch, can’t be telling him all of this started because it hurts too much toĀ loseĀ Eddie, with there beingĀ no possible chance—but Eddie might have a chance to have Steve back, toĀ keepĀ Steve for always.

Like fuck he’s gonna be a coward at risk losing thisĀ again.

ā€œCould you, y’know, like, ever think about giving me a chance to make up for it?ā€ Eddie’s voice is so small, but soĀ earnest, because he will doĀ anything. ā€œTo fix it, and prove I’ll never hurt you again if I can help it,ā€ and he will, he will do whatever it takes to prove what his heart and soul knows through to the bottom, bright inside his bones:

ā€œFuck, I’d break myself in half before I hurt you again, baby,ā€ he promises, vows deeper than anything—

ā€œI don’t want that.ā€

Steve blinks at him, eyes fuckingĀ intense, and Eddie stills, his heart plummeting because…well, of course it was possible, and of course Eddie understands, heĀ hurtĀ Steve in a way he doesn’t know if he can wholly forgiveĀ himselfĀ for, in a way that’s maybe worse for how Eddie’d tried for anythingĀ but, such a gross misstep and he—

ā€œI don’t want you broken,ā€ Steve reaches, flips his palm from atop Eddie’s heavy thumping heart and grasps, brings Eddie’s hand to his lips and kisses there, pinning Eddie with his gaze through his lashes:

ā€œNot ever, not for anything,ā€ Steve says it heavy, emphasizes each word with intention: ā€œnever forĀ me.ā€

ā€œYou’re the only thing that’s worth it,ā€ Eddie counters, just as firm, just as committed to that truth with his whole goddamn chest: ā€œworth anything.ā€

WorthĀ everything; and Eddie thinks Steve hears that too; hears it all.

And it’s Steve who’s reaching, now, who’s framing Eddie’s face and pulling him in and Eddie sinks into it, falls into the way that Steve moves him, takes control in those subtle, automatic ways and fuck if Eddie didn’t quite realize just how much he missed this part, the way that Steve commanded the moment and tipped his chin just so to kiss deeper, to draw moans from spaces inside Eddie that he didn’t even know he possessed: electric.

In-fucking-toxicating.

ā€œCome home?ā€ Steve asks-but-tells him soft, earnest; ā€œwhat IĀ doĀ want, is for you to come home.ā€

And fuck if Eddie wants anything else in the world; fuck if that isn’tĀ everything.

Home. With hisĀ Stevie.

He chokes on a fucking sob and he wraps around Steve so goddamnĀ tight.

ā€œThank you,ā€ Eddie presses lips to his jaw, peppers kisses up to his temple, across his brow, down the bridge of his nose, worshipful and dazed, so viscerallyĀ relieved, like a noose he didn’t know was tightening around his neck was suddenly torn free and he can breathe, he canĀ breathe, he’s still got the best fuckingĀ reasonĀ toĀ breathe.

ā€œThank you,ā€ he mouths at Steve’s lips as he makes his way down his chin to his neck to worship that space with this gratitude, his devotion as he swears deeper than he’s ever even considered committing to anything:

ā€œPromise you won’t regret it.ā€

ā€œIĀ don’tĀ regret it,ā€ Steve shakes his head like the idea’s anathema; ā€œmaybe it was hard, some of it, and maybe it was getting harder, worse than I could keep a handle on, but without you,ā€ and Steve’s voice breaks a little, and he shakes his head harder, more like he’s trying to get rid of a nightmare, his eyes glassy when he looks back up:

ā€œWithout you is so much worse, Eds.ā€

And Eddie’s heart jumps because he’s not okay with that hurting.

But also because Steve…Steve’s saying outright, after all of this, thatĀ withĀ Eddie is a better way toĀ be.

Fucking sue him if that hits him just so, okay?

ā€œI’mĀ sorry I made you feel like I could ever want a life without you in it,ā€ Steve whispers into his temple, teasing his hairline. ā€œFucking unthinkable, baby.ā€

And Eddie shivers, because…he’d hoped this could be where they’d end up, but he…he was scared. So scared that he’d lost it, that there was no coming back.

ā€œGod, I missed you,ā€ Eddie breathes, shaky as fuck, wet on the edges at best; ā€œevery second of the fucking day.ā€

ā€œMe too,ā€ Steve meets him, a little sniffly in his own right; ā€œso much, Eddie.Ā SoĀ much.ā€

ā€œI’m sorry,ā€ Eddie says again, wobbly, because he is, he fuckingĀ is—

ā€œStop saying you’re sorry,ā€ Steve chides him with a peck at the bow of his lips; ā€œI believe you, that you thought it was the right thing.ā€

ā€œBecause it meant makingĀ youĀ happy, not for me,ā€ Eddie needs to he sure Steve knows that part, knows it in his fuckingĀ bones. ā€œI would never leave you becauseĀ IĀ wanted to,ā€ Eddie whispers, kinda fucking horrified at just the idea; ā€œnothing could make me want that.ā€

He cups Steve cheek and lets Steve lean into how it fits just so before he murmurs low, still shaky:

ā€œBarely evenĀ survivedĀ it,ā€ because fuck, now that it’s over, Eddie can appreciate how much it took from him, being away from Steve, and when he couldn’t even seeĀ why. ā€œYou’re the sun, Stevie.ā€

And fuck, if that’s not the truth. He is the center of the galaxy. He is all life in the universe.

Everything.

ā€œSteve,ā€ Eddie finally disturbs the sweet bubble ofĀ yes, right, this isĀ rightĀ that they’re holding between them, and only because he…

He can’t risk this. Ever again. And he’s not foolish enough to think this thing’s fixed, that it’s one and done. ButĀ Eddie, and his devotion to Steve, and hisĀ love: that’s not ever going to be done.

Loving Steve is not something he is fuckingĀ everĀ going to be done doing. Done drowning in gratitude for the goddamnĀ privilegeĀ of.

ā€œI need you to promise me you’re never going to keep this,Ā anythingĀ that hurts like this, locked up ever again, okay?ā€ he runs his thumbs along the crests of Steve’s cheekbones. ā€œI am here with you, I want to be here for everything, all of it, always,ā€ and he kisses just between Steve’s brows, holds there for a few moments before he leans back and lifts Steve’s chin on his fingertips to look him straight in the eyes, see down to his soul entire:

ā€œI’m neverĀ notĀ going to want to help, to try and make the hurting go away, or at least find a way to help make it easier to bear,ā€ and he means it, and he holds Steve’s gaze firm until he can see the conviction in his own veins start to color Steve’s irises brighter, to be taken in andĀ believed.

ā€œYou could tell me to fuck off forever,ā€ he tucks his cheek along Steve’s, burrows a little on the crook of his neck to breathe in the scent of him, to feel his blood move under the surface; ā€œlike…leaving you alone this time was a bridge too far, go to fucking hell Munson. You could come to me in twenty fucking years and I’d still drop everything just to make you hurt less.ā€

And Steve cranes his neck, opens up that space for him and lets Eddie fit there closer and just breathe, breathe,Ā breathe, tucks Eddie underĀ hisĀ chin like the tables are turned and…maybe they are. Or else: no, notĀ maybe. TheyĀ bothĀ were hurting. And theyĀ bothĀ love too much to let any of that hurt be anything but tended to, but dressed and cleaned and soothed, now that they have each other in arm’s-reach. Now that they can press each other close and hold andĀ be, and remember all over again what life feels like where it sings in one body held tight to another, when it’s loved this full.

Steve keeps him there, lets him get his bearings, before Eddie inhales extra deep so he’s got Steve in his lungs when he makes himself pull back; gathers Steve toĀ himĀ again, now, and it’s…it’s just as much a comfort. It doesn’t matter who’s in whose arms. So long as they’re here.

So long as they’reĀ them

ā€œThis is,ā€ and Eddie makes damn sure that his hands are on Steve and nowhere else, that he’s holding onto Steve, that his fingers are locked with Steve’s, that he’s entangled to the point where it’d hurt to get out but he’s never going to try so it’s irrelevant. HeĀ needsĀ Steve to know, andĀ neverĀ question that Eddie’s never goingĀ anywhere.

ā€œAll this, isĀ heavy, Stevie,ā€ and he’s got his lips pressed to Steve’s hair before Steve can even finish how he makes to tense up; ā€œand it breaks my heart that you’ve been carrying it all on your own.ā€

And Eddie holds there,Ā holdsĀ and keeps Steve soĀ close, until the other man slumps a little, until he gives that little bit of tension and then some back into Eddie, and it feels…it feels like how Eddie imagines someone feels when they exchange vows at the altar, or else, how they want to, how it’s talked about. Because there’s nothing present in this moment save sheer fuckingĀ trust, and the willingness to give between two bodies, two souls.

Eddie can’t help but pull him a little closer, duck down to trail his mouth down Steve’s forehead, his cheekbones, the apples of his cheeks, just: show him how much he feels. How much he feelsĀ luckyĀ that Steve’s leaning into him, that Steve’sĀ givingĀ him this; this…opportunity to hold him up, too.

The fuckingĀ giftĀ of it. OfĀ him.

ā€œSo strong, my sweetheart,ā€ Eddie mouths against Steve’s lips, then; ā€œso brave,ā€ and it kinda fucking floors him, really it does, that this man is…all that heĀ is. FuckingĀ superhuman, sometimes, good fucking god.

ā€œBut IĀ loveĀ you, and that means you never have to shoulder anything alone ever again,ā€ Eddie moves to kiss Steve straight on, properly, and then he lets Steve deepen it as far as he wants: and shit, heĀ wants.

And Eddie cannot put into words what it means to have this again. To have his Steve in his arms, to have himĀ wantĀ to be there, to letĀ goĀ in Eddie’s embrace.

ā€œNever alone, baby,ā€ Eddie nips his lower lip when they break apart, gasping; ā€œyeah?ā€

ā€œYeah,ā€ Steve says, clear eyed and red-swollen lipped and fuck, he’s exquisite.

ā€œI can’t take back what happened, with Vecna, the first time, or anything before or since,ā€ Eddie needs, all of a sudden, to bare a little more of his heart, to make sure Steve knows all the little crevices of him, so he’ll never fill the gaps in with anything but the unfettered love that’s meant to be there, that lives there always and creates the shape of what Eddie holds in his chest.

ā€œI can’t erase the fuel for your nightmares, and I hate that,ā€ Eddie moans, and Steve’s the one who leans in for his lips this time, who kisses Eddie so fucking thoroughly he feels lighter, he thinks, for the pieces of him blissfully surrendered up on how their mouths meet.

Eddie decidedly doesĀ notĀ hate that.

ā€œIĀ doĀ want to die in your arms,ā€ and Eddie’s a little dizzy as he says it, giddy and buoyant with how his heart flutters and maybe another time he’d think twice before being this candid, but not anymore. Not flooded with relief and joy and gratefulness like this, and faced with the real possibility of the future he aches for:

ā€œWhen we’re old and grey and wrinkled and still so fucking in love that we’re rewriting what it means to feel,ā€ Eddie rips open the whole of his lovedunk heart for Steve to see and hear and know, and maybe even embrace for all the hopeless romance Eddie’s finding realĀ hopeĀ for holding in Steve and Steve alone; ā€œmaking new rules and setting new standards for everyone who comes after us, for how deep and much andĀ wellĀ we loved.ā€

Eddie’s never seen Steve’s eyes shine like they do when he looks up and locks their gazes, takes all that Eddie’s giving, showing: he’s not just witnessing it.

He’sĀ embracingĀ it. He’s fuckingĀ eagerĀ like Eddie is, and how could Eddie be this lucky, to be welcomed, to be forgiven, to be understood, to be given the chance to earn this for keeps, to hold Steve close and safe to his chest for fuckingĀ ever.

ā€œI’m sorry I hurt you, for trying to do it ahead of schedule down there,ā€ Eddie murmurs at the corner of Steve’s mouth, just…just kinda to be close, to feel his breaths as they come; ā€œand then thinking I knew what you needed and fucking it up, here,ā€ and he makes himself draw back, then, to hold Steve’s chin and look him square on, because he needs Steve to see, he needs to hear and know, just, like, one more time, in case it’s the one that sticks strongest, most lasting:

ā€œI never meant to hurt you,ā€ he doesn’t let himself drown in those eyes just now, needs to tether in them and weave himself in the thick glow of them, the way the caramel color swims; ā€œnever want to hurt you,ā€ and he lifts his touch to run his thumbs under Steve’s eyes, no tears to wipe but he feels…he feels a need to touch there, delicate, reverent:

ā€œNever want youĀ toĀ hurt.ā€

ā€œI know,ā€ and Steve wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, holds tight; ā€œI know, babe, thank you,ā€ and Eddie is going to make sure he doesn’t overlook any of this ever again: Steve failing to understand how deep Eddie’s feelings run, howĀ muchĀ he means to Eddie, how Eddie’s heart couldn’t even beat right without him, for how much of it’s made up of Steve.

He’s going to make sure Steve knows that the only thanks necessary in what they share is the all-encompassing gratitude. Is just being thankful, for the fact of a love unprecedented.

ā€œMaybe I could,ā€ Eddie throws off the first thing that comes to mind to face how they got here head-on, and maybe he riffs out loud a little, goes with the pull at the base of his heart and leaps, tries to chart the right course to make sure heĀ doesĀ get to die in Steve’s arms one day, where they both take their last breaths in the same second and their hearts go to whatever’s next—something other or something quiet, something next or something final—together, always together, never-not-together, ever again:

ā€œMaybe I could hold you tight to me, like, every night, all the time, and now that I know what’s happening here,ā€ he taps Steve’s head lovingly, rests fingertips at the side of Steve’s neck to touch at the pulse as he offers, kinda fucking clumsy, and hopes like hell the depth makes up for it; ā€œthen I can be ready to catch you.ā€

And Steve pulls back, just looks at him, and he feels so dismantled in the best of ways, like being unraveled when the knots holding you up were too tight anyway and then it’s just pure release, and when he sees the soft little hint of a smile on Steve’s lips, blinding in his eyes—it’s everything as Eddie promises from his goddamn cells:

ā€œI willĀ alwaysĀ catch you, Steve.ā€

And Steve, he just sighs, and falls into Eddie once more—again, theĀ giftĀ of that kind ofĀ trust, Eddie will never get over it, or take it for granted—but Steve just falls and burrows into Eddie’s chest, settles at the center and Eddie would put fucking money on the fact that his heart swells to meets that weight, that presence of Steve; that every part of him just knows who’s there to listen and feel. That his beating fucking heartĀ wants, because of how much Eddie wants. How much Eddie knows this manĀ means.

ā€œMaybe we could get a really big shirt,ā€ Eddie muses as he stokes up and down Steve’s spine, spread over Eddie’s whole chest as he is; ā€œand stretch out the neck so we can both fit, then when you wake up and you think,ā€ Eddie pauses, doesn’t want to put those things into words to live in the world any more than they’ve already been forced there.

ā€œBut then you’re pressed as close as you can be, and you can feel the truth, and I can hold you until you believe what you feel,ā€ he doesn’t know if that makes sense at all, but Steve’s breaths are damp and warm over the barest ends of the scars that stretched a little farther toward the center of his chest and…fucking hell.

That’s just a heady fucking feeling, y’know? And all Eddie wants is toĀ keep.

ā€œLike, maybe we could try it?ā€

He’ll try,Ā moreĀ than try, just about anything.

ā€œWhat if Iā€”ā€ and Eddie doesn’t need Steve to finish that thought, he can read the fear, the worry, the resignation that he’ll somehow have some reaction that being held tight to Eddie will make unbearable, maybe even dangerous given just how wide those eyes go.

Eddie’s not gonna let that shit stand anymore. Not ever a-fucking-gain.

ā€œThere’s nothing you could possibly do that I’m not ready and willing to catch, and hold so close, and keepĀ soĀ safe. Remember?ā€ He tips Steve’s chin up so he can look at him, drink him in entirely and hold him there until he can read that he’s heard and understood through and through when he vows with his everything:

ā€œAlwaysĀ gonna catch you.ā€

And Steve’s hands come to Eddie, now, and he writes the moment again, takes control of the momentum in between them and grabs Eddie’s face, draws him into the kind of kiss that lights up his nerves neon bright and sparkling, shimmers through him like pure fuckingĀ magic:

ā€œI love you,ā€ Steve breathes in between Eddie’s lips, then goes to pressing that feeling all over, drawing the dopiest grin to Eddie’s whole fucking face:

ā€œI love you, I love you, IĀ loveĀ you,ā€ then he braces his palms on Eddie hips, and honestly, Eddie had apparently floated a little bit into the here and now because he hadn’t even wholly processed Steve straddling him until he’s gazing down at him with so much fuckingĀ affection:

ā€œThank you,ā€ and the serious tone he says it in is somehow made, like, twenty-dimensional and all the more significant; ā€œfor coming back.ā€

And Eddie…Eddie doesn’t really understand how that’s something to be thanked for when comingĀ backĀ feels like putting his heart back together again, but: fine.

He can meet the sentiment.

ā€œThankĀ you, for letting me,ā€ Eddie leans in, kisses Steve’s still-a-little-swollen lips; ā€œfor wanting me.ā€

ā€œI want you forever,ā€ Steve answers, solemn and sure and without hesitation. ā€œI want you,ā€ then he smiles, because maybe they’re a little fucked up to find joy in this sentiment butĀ fuckĀ if it’s anything but the best possible thing Eddie could imagine:

ā€œā€™Til the day we die.ā€

ā€œSwear it, sweetheart,ā€ and Eddie isn’t even going to try and deny, or reshape the fact that he’s just gazing at Steve, now, fuckingĀ marvelingĀ because how can he not?

WhyĀ would he do anything but wonder at the goddamn miracle in front of him, perched atop top him, nestled in his chest and safe inside his heart: why theĀ fuckĀ would he do anything else, anything less?

ā€œStevie, baby,ā€ he exhales a little shaky, leaning into just, just…kiss all of it into Steve’sĀ soul:

ā€œI fuckin’ swearĀ it.ā€

ā¤ļø

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Oh Golden Boy (don't Act Like You Were Kind)

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More Posts from Samsoble and Others

2 weeks ago

Cursed or Blessed

Summary: Witches come to Hawkins from the power in the area due to everything with the Upside Down. The party gets in their way and Dustin ends up cursed to have a female body. When trying to get the curse removed, the same spell is directed at Steve, who doesn't find it such an issue.

Author's Note:

According to my Works page, this is my 500th Fic posted to AO3. I could do math to argue it cause there's some anonymous in collections and one fic that's actually a collection of others from when I started using the site, but still a brilliant milestone to have reached and I wanted to share that. Also yes, I am muddled over how to tag this fic cause of the curse shenanigans. If you wanna correct me, please do. I just had a day or two where the fics I was reading kept including a sex change curse where the person cursed hated it but was forced to conform to the gender presentations their new body made people expect of them and thought hell No, we've got trans care now, why wouldn't that get used? And then I got distracted entirely by Steve's gender euphoria when I started writing. She's cute.

~

Monsters and unethical experiments, Steve could get. He had even accepted a kid having superpowers and classing everyone from the lab she was tortured in as siblings. Magic however was taking longer to understand and he wasn’t happy about its presence at all.

The fact these so called magic users looked like Macbeth rejects wasn’t helping him believe a word they’d said either. He’d hated being forced to study that in English class.

ā€œWhat tech do they have and can we steal it? Use it to fight them?ā€ Dustin was questioning beside him, clearly also refusing to accept magic as an explanation.

ā€œIt’s magic, Dustin! There’s nothing to steal.ā€ Mike snapped, which, given it was the fifth time the suggestion had been repeated, made sense.

~

The plan to try stealing the tech of the people claiming to be witches failed in its attempt. Dustin had been the one yelling about it, demanding to know where it was, so he was the one magic was directed at when the witches decided they’d had enough and were leaving.

He fell to the floor and half the group ran to him, while Nancy and Jonathan gave chase to the witches and Steve waited to see where he’d be most useful.

ā€œWhat the hell? No, no, no, this is wrong. It’s not me. I am not comfortable!ā€ Dustin woke up yelling from where he’d fallen during the confrontation.

ā€œGuess we’re going dress shopping.ā€ Mike stated, helping him up while looking him over an uncomfortable amount.

Steve tugged Dustin away from him, seeing the glower forming, ā€œAre you fucking sick? No, he’s not happy about this and we’re not making it worse for him.ā€

ā€œHe can pretend he’s in fancy dress, a female NPC.ā€ Lucas tried suggesting, only to have matching glares levelled at him.

ā€œAnd you just volunteered to express order a binder and a few sets of men’s clothes in the sizes he’ll now need.ā€

Dustin blinked at Steve in something like awe at the words, ā€œGenius? Thank you? That! Please, whatever you just spoke about, that. This feels so wrong.ā€

ā€œBut you look-ā€ Nancy had turned back to the room but as she spoke Steve lifted his bat, clearly ready to attack her if the wrong thing was said. ā€œWeapons down please?ā€

ā€œObjectifying anyone is bad, forcing anyone to dress in a way they’re uncomfortable with is bad, especially towards Dustin who’s just been cursed. I’m taking him to mine and getting the numbers to order the stuff I mentioned.ā€ Steve kept an arm on Dustin’s shoulder as he led them out, clearly ready to protect his brother from anyone, friends or not.

~

Tracking down the witches was relatively easy, and Steve had thought that getting the curse undone would be easy too. That was why only him, Robin and Nancy had come along to confront them now.

Looking at the gathered witches he was starting to doubt the logic in that decision but knew between the three of them, they could fight a lot of things. ā€œUndo your curse on Dustin.ā€

ā€œNo. The little prick deserved it, keeping up from the power.ā€ The central witch scoffed, glaring at him.

ā€œI’m not asking. Remove the curse.ā€ Steve raised his bat, knowing that behind him Nancy would be raising her gun and Robin keeping watch with golf balls in case one tried attacking before he noticed.

ā€œNo, in fact, I think you should see what it’s like.ā€ The witch started gesturing, muttering too quiet to be heard but Steve wasn’t trying to hear anyway.

As soon as the gestures began he was attacking, his bat making contact with at least two of the witches there before it dropped and he fell soon after, the magic overtaking him.

Robin had started throwing but as he fell darted to grab the bat to keep fighting, trusting Nancy’s aim wouldn’t stray to her even as gun shots sounded behind her.

Two of the witches managed to escape through doors behind them but neither woman pursued them, hurrying instead to Steve’s side, already expecting for him to look different given the transformation Dustin had been cursed with the day before.

ā€œThe hell just-ā€ Steve groaned, pushing himself to sit up, ā€œOkay, that’s new.ā€ He looked down at the breasts he now had before looking hopefully at Robin, ā€œDoes this mean we can have sleepovers at yours Rob? Can you braid my hair too?ā€

ā€œSteve?ā€ Robin asked, sounding a little confused by the reaction but nodded, ā€œYeah, I guess we can. Do you need clothes that’ll fit you?ā€

ā€œClothes shopping?ā€ Steve grinned in excitement, ā€œWhen I can actually try on all the skirts and dresses? Yes, we’re doing that right now!ā€ He hurried to get up and was heading straight for the door they’d entered by.

Nancy groaned, shaking her head, ā€œCan’t that wait until there’s not someone potentially wanting to kill us?ā€

Pouting at her, Steve nodded, now looking around the room they were stood in, ā€œSo are we trying to get any information on what they’re doing while we’re here then? Or just escaping in case some of them survived?ā€

ā€œLook around quickly, but we know two escaped the room. I think we saw them all though so hopefully two will cause a lot less trouble now.ā€ Nancy decided.

They didn’t find much, but when they left Steve was carrying an old handwritten book that the witch they’d thought was the leader had been holding. He could only hope it was useful since he couldn’t make out what the words written in it were in the poor lighting.

~

Much to Steve’s frustration, they didn’t let him stop at any of the clothes shops on the way back to the Wheeler’s. Nancy insisted that they should update everyone on what had happened instead, especially since Dustin was still hoping they’d have a reversing for his curse.

Steve did at least manage to convince her to let him get changed into one of her dresses before telling everyone else what had happened.

Nancy went straight to the basement with the book they’d found, saying she’d let Dustin start looking it over while Robin helped Steve.

ā€œWhat?ā€ Mike exclaimed first when Steve entered the basement.

Everyone turned at that, staring at Steve who smiled and did a twirl for them.

Robin glared from behind him, ā€œWhat what, Michael? Never seen such a gorgeous woman before?ā€

ā€œYou yelled at me for saying Dustin needed dresses but have turned around and forced them on Steve?ā€ He yelled back, gesturing to her forcefully.

Steve rolled his eyes, ā€œHey, shithead, I chose this. It’s like the best thing to me. Dustin hates it so he gets binders and help staying who he is, cursed or not. Capiche?ā€

ā€œYou want to be a girl?ā€ Erica goaded, looking her over sceptically.

Steve fluffed her skirt out, smiling a little before raising an eyebrow at her, ā€œWhat’s with the judgement, Erica?ā€

ā€œYeah! My sister is awesome.ā€ Dustin called out, looking up from the book he’d been reading since taking a moment to stare at Steve’s change.

Steve moved over to ruffle his hair, smiling at the support and the way Dustin was still claiming them as siblings, whatever gender they had. ā€œThanks Dustin, you think you’ll find much in that book?ā€

ā€œWitch’s handwriting is terrible. I think they failed to become doctors, it’s that bad. There’s probably something, but I’ve only found gruesome spells and power tracers so far.ā€

ā€œWe’ll keep looking. Together we’ll get it sorted, I know.ā€ She reassured him.

~

After they’d all eaten, and confused Karen even more than she already was by the group calling two girls she’d never met Steve and Dustin , Steve started asking about going shopping again.

Robin leant on her shoulder, patting the opposite one comfortingly, ā€œStevie, we don’t have time for a shopping spree. They’ll all be shut now.ā€

ā€œOkay, I guess that can be for after the witches are gone, but I need clothes now, soo-ā€ He paused thinking for a moment before grinning, ā€œRobin!ā€

ā€œYeah?ā€ She glared from her shoulder since there had been no need to yell when they were cuddled up together.

Steve nudged her playfully, ā€œI have a list of clothes you’ve got to lend me. Fashion show during our sleepover tonight?ā€

She squinted at her, ā€œYou’ve got an agenda for the night, haven’t you?ā€

ā€œFashion show, make-up, hair, nails, face masks, and gossip. We’re going it all!ā€ Steve ticked off the activities she wanted to do on her fingers as she spoke.

ā€œWhat fun.ā€ Robin murmured tiredly, ā€œCan I put on a movie while you do all that?ā€

Steve pouted, poking at her, ā€œRobinnnnnnnn.ā€

She snorted, nuzzling him, ā€œFine, we’ll do it. Any other girls joining us? Also can we just like fetch whatever clothes you want to borrow and do the sleepover at your house?ā€

ā€œBut the fun is about getting to stay at someone else’s house.ā€ Steve didn’t protest much, even if he looked a little disgruntled at the request.

El came to sit with them before the pair could debate which home to use. ā€œIf it’s okay.ā€ She said seriously.

ā€œDefinitely in.ā€ Max called from where she was currently leaning against Lucas.

ā€œSounds hilarious. I’m in.ā€ Erica agreed too.

Nancy looked at Steve for a moment before shaking her head, ā€œNever been my thing. I’ll skip it.ā€

Robin wanted to argue, but Steve pinched her side. He was fairly sure that sleepovers had been something Nancy had done with Barb and never since so didn’t want that subject bringing up when planning a pleasant evening.

ā€œMaybe Dustin should-ā€ Mike started in a goading tone, but Steve clicked at him.

ā€œThin ice, Wheeler,ā€ She warned.

After taking a deep breath, Mike finished carefully, ā€œShould DM a one shot and the rest of us stay at the Byers tonight to avoid explaining what’s going on to everyone if we’re going to reverse the curse soon enough.ā€

ā€œGood idea to stay in bigger groups in case the witches come back too.ā€ Steve agreed, glancing around at the group, ā€œWhichever house we have our sleepover in, let’s catch up at my house tomorrow to try and get a plan to take on the witches properly.ā€

~

Robin hadn’t seen Steve so free with her emotions before, nor so excited to be doing things that seemed pretty normal. It had made the sleepover more fun for her, to see her best friend enjoying being a girl so much, even if it was tiring too.

El, Max and Erica had all drifted off to sleep a while back, and how Steve knew when to get the face masks washed off so it didn’t happen with them on felt like one of life’s great mysteries.

They were a different mystery of Steve that Robin wanted to ask about though, and the quiet of the night seemed like a safe time to ask it. ā€œHey Stevie?ā€

ā€œYeah Robs?ā€ She sounded half asleep already.

ā€œHow’d you know how to help Dustin? With binding and all that?ā€

Steve made a thoughtful slow noise before replying, ā€œWandered away from my parents the last time I got dragged on one of their trips, asked some questions that got some guys trying to direct me back concerned and learnt a lot of weird stuff. Useful stuff too.ā€

Robin hummed, ā€œIncluding how a woman can become a man?ā€

ā€œYeah, I’d actually been trying to ask if doing this was possible. They got confused by fourteen year old me.ā€ He remembered after thinking for a while. ā€œRealised pretty quickly my parents would have had horrible reactions if I’d got the actual answers or acted on them.ā€

ā€œWhat’ll you do if this is temporary?ā€ She asked after taking in the story for a moment.

Steve stretched. ā€œFind answers to those questions now and take you to a city where I could actually do it.ā€ She decided.

~

The next afternoon found everyone scattered around Steve’s home. Nancy had spent the morning looking for their own sources of information on magic and was currently going through them with Jonathan and a few of the kids.

Steve and Dustin were sat closely together reading from the witches book about transformations and speculating on whether the general transformation reversal spell would work for Dustin or not. The spell used on them hadn’t been found yet but Dustin needed a pause from deciphering the handwriting.

El and Robin were sat with them. They had been taking turns to write down what Dustin managed to read so they had an easier to read copy to keep. Now they were reading through their notes and wondering if magic was similar to El’s powers as well as if they were bothered about finding out.

ā€œGive us our spell book back!ā€ One of the two witches still alive demanding, slamming the doors to Steve’s home open, hands primed as if they’d start cursing any minute.

Steve and Dustin glanced at each other and the girls in front of them before jumping up and over the back of the sofa to face the witches, ā€œYou came to us? That’s-ā€ Steve paused as if thinking, ā€œNice. Isn’t that nice of them, Dustin?ā€

ā€œDumb too, cause now they’re reversing the curse on me.ā€ Dustin agreed.

ā€œWhy would we do that, little girl?ā€ The second witch sneered.

Steve and Dustin shared a smirk before stepping away from each other, revealing El, already standing with her arm outstretched.

ā€œBecause I’ll make you.ā€ She said, flinging the pair into the wall.

The display of power shocked the witches visibly and they were quick to beg forgiveness as well as that they’d reverse the spell as long as El didn’t do anything more to them.

Everyone else came through, having heard the commotion, and Nancy quickly picked up the spell book, levelling a stern glare at the witches. ā€œI don’t think you should have this any more. Try being decent humans for a while.ā€

For a moment one of the witches glared, ready to argue, but stayed silent when El moved her arm.

Dustin hugged himself as soon as the curse was undone, laughing and hurrying up to one of the spare rooms Steve had kept a change of clothes for him in. ā€œI’m me again! Couldn’t be happier to be in this body!ā€

Steve stepped back when the witches attention turned on him. ā€œI’m getting the Hawkins lab to take the blame for this and give me new papers. You’re doing nothing except leaving this town!ā€ She stated, pointing to the door of her home.

ā€œIt’s not meant to be permanent.ā€ One of them muttered as they headed to the door.

Robin stepped in their way, looking them over carefully. ā€œNot meant to be, but you had to do a reversal. Do you know how long it would last if you hadn’t?ā€

ā€œNever tested it. Book doesn’t specify.ā€ was the curt response.

ā€œThen we will and since we have the book, we’ll find a way to renew it if it fails at some point.ā€ She opened the door for them satisfied in their ignorance.

10 months ago

This made my brain go brr, therefore it’ll make your brain go brr too if you’re following me <3

2 months ago

I have no time right now to elaborate too deeply on this thought but I just had a brain worm and I need to write it down before I forget. Who knows, I may elaborate and make this a whole thing with dialogue tonight, we’ll see. TW for depictions of Steve’s injuries post s4, vomiting, gore(?)

Steve refuses medical treatment at the end of s4, they drop off Eddie and he hides in plain site until it’s time to take Dustin and Robin home.

They stop at Dustin’s first, both he and Robin getting out to get Claudia Hugs (I just know she gives INCREDIBLE hugs). He drops Robin off at home with her promising to keep her walkie on their frequency. And then he goes home alone.

He tries to shower, it hurts his feet and back too much. He tries to change the ā€œbandageā€ but just gently tugging almost makes him black out from pain. So he collapses on his bed and passes out.

Days go by, he’s trying to act normal, like he isn’t always running a fever and his sides are itching and starting to smell under the cologne he practically bathes in. It works for a few days at least, but Claudia gets suspicious by day 3 post earthquake when Steve shows up for lunch with flushed cheeks. 2 days later he doesn’t show up.

She drives over alone, Dustin is at the Wheeler’s, and she lets herself in with the key Steve gave her and Dustin after last summer. She calls his name, doesn’t get an answer but something smells off. She’s a nurse, she recognizes the scent of disease.

She hurries upstairs and finds Steve in bed, only wearing boxers and the filthy scrap of cloth wrapped around his stomach. He’s sweating and has vomited on himself at least twice, recently too. She immediately knows that he is what smells, she can see the pus and blood on his abdomen. He’s delirious, mumbling to himself and part of her wants to shut down and cry, to go cradle this boy, her son in all ways but blood, but she can’t. She steels herself and walks to his bedside to feel his forehead, almost recoiling from how hot his skin is.

As she keeps checking him over, she grabs the phone on his bedside table and calls 911, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder to keep working. When the operator answers she explains who she is, where she is and what’s happening.

It’s a blur after that until she’s sitting in the hospital waiting room and she realizes that 1. her shirt and her hands reek of Steve’s blood, and 2. she’s completely alone in the waiting room. Swallowing her tears, Claudia goes over to the payphone and fishes out some coins to call the Buckely’s. Robin’s father picks up but quickly hands it over when Claudia mentions Steve.

She will never forget the choked off sound of pure distress Robin makes when she hears what’s happening.

Hours pass, Robin had arrived shortly after the call and her and Claudia have been curled up together in the waiting room every since. They haven’t called anyone else, haven’t even thought about it, too worried about Steve. Later, Claudia will remember the other kids who adore Steve, Hopper who treats Steve like a son. But in that moment, still not knowing if her boy is okay, she can’t.

Finally, a doctor steps out, clearly fresh from surgery, to speak with them. She explains that Steve had a very severe infection in multiple wounds, especially the ones on his side. They had to debride the wounds, which is what took so long. He was lucky that she found him when he did and that he hadn’t picked up any truly terrible bacteria. He hadn’t gone septic, thankfully, but he was going to be on seriously strong antibiotics for a while. She explained that he was in the ICU and they aren’t supposed to let anyone but family see him.

Claudia wanted to scream and sob and go find the Harringtons and get them to come see their son, but before she even says anything Robin explains that Steve’s parents had all but disowned him and her and Claudia were both in his emergency contacts, not his parents.

The doctor lets them see him. They have to wear face masks and gloves, but they can see him. Claudia had never seen him look so small. And there, in that ICU room, her and Robin both broke and started crying. That was how Jim Hopper found them when he arrived shortly after, the nurses having called him. He’s wearing a mask and gloves but his eyes are wild and scared. He nearly falls over when he sees Steve.

Steve is unconscious for almost two weeks, though the first four or five days or so were due to sedatives - the doctor wanted him to rest and let the antibiotics work. After he was taken off the sedatives he was moved out of the ICU, to a regular room where other people could visit. The kids came and decorated his room, even brought something Eddie had ā€œcommissionedā€ from Will (it looked like Steve ripping one of those creepy things from that alien movie apart, which she really didn’t get). Joyce brought him the quilt from her couch that he always enjoyed at movie nights and Robin came in every other day with his shampoo and conditioner to wash his hair for him (on days she didn’t come to wash his hair, she would come do something else with him. One day Claudia walked in on her painting his nails and her heart felt like it was melting).

The day he finally woke up was the first day Robin hadn’t been able to come. Her parents had forced her to take a break and get some sleep, so Claudia was there on her own just reading a book. She was so engrossed in it that she dropped it in shock when she heard the person on the bed in front of her make noise. Her eyes instantly went to Steve and she could see him scrunching up his face and groaning.

Claudia was by his side in a heartbeat, gently grabbing his hand and brushing a hand over his cheek, speaking softly to let him know she was there. His eyes slowly squinted open, clearly struggling to get the energy to move at all. Their eyes locked and his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile at her. Then, as she was watching him with tears in her eyes, he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time in weeks.

ā€œMom….ā€

9 months ago

hi actually your friends wanna hang out with you because you’re delightful to be around and it’s fun to spend time with you. you make their day better and out of all people they could spend their day with, they choose you because you’re a good choice. your friends like you. they like you so much.

1 month ago

The angstiest masterpost

angsty.

Angsty family/platonic dialogue

Angsty question prompts #1

Angsty question prompts #2

Angsty question prompts #3

Angsty/fighting dialogue

Concerned/angsty question promptsĀ 

Angsty starters

Angst prompts

Angsty sentence starters #1

Angsty sentence starters #2

Angsty sentence starters #3

Angsty sentence starters #4

Leaving dialogue

Reunion dialogue reactions

Unwilling goodbye + love confession prompts

Trying to make them stay dialogue

Sacrificing dialogue

Sacrificing prompts

Amnesia prompts

Amnesia dialogue

Bad luck prompts

Lover being hurt prompts

Break-up dialogue #1

Break-up dialogue #2

Unwanted attention dialogue

Unrequited love dialogue

Drama starting points

Conflict for couples #1

Conflict for couples #2

Conflict for couples #3

Betrayal dialogue

Hiding from horror dialogue

Finding out the truth dialogue

"I'm sorry…" apology starters

Saying I'm sorry…

Apologizing for emotional neglect

"I can't…"

Talking it out ideas

Keeping loved ones apart

Ending an argument

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3 months ago

Eddie sees the photo of The Party from the Halloween of '84 and freaks out about them all being babies! By the time he met them, they were all highschool aged supernatural veterans! Not those little children! Where was Steve?!

He storms over to Steve's and rants about how he just saw the baby!Dustin who took on demogorgons and the government! What was he doing involved in that!? Did Steve know?? How can he keep bitching at Dustin for his attitude, when it's no wonder he's like that! And how can he continue giving him shit when he now knows what little pre-teen Dustin looked like??? He's a baby!

And Steve sits there on the couch watching Eddie pace around the room, waving his hands around to accentuate his points. Steve's kinda glad someone else is having this freakout, he had to have his alone after they finished off the demodogs. Steve sipped at his pop and wondered when exactly Eddie breathed.

On one of Eddie's spins back toward him, Steve picked up the bowl of popcorn he'd been eating before Eddie got there, and held it out to him. Eddie grabbed it and plopped down next to Steve, quiet for the first time in 20 minutes. He grabbed a fistful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth, wide eyes staring straight ahead into a existential crisis.

"You've asked me a million times why I don't set down my foot more often and say no to doing whatever he asks." Steve finally says. "This is why. He was already a supernatural veteran when I helped him with his little demo pet. So now, I don't know, I just want to make sure there's something he doesn't have to worry about.

And I know he thinks I'm just a dumb push over. But it's really because he's just a kid. And I'm the adult. And someone needs to make sure he stays a kid. 'Cause yeah. Maybe he looked like a baby at 12, but he's still a kid now. So welcome, Eddie, to the Protect the Kids' Childhood club. We can be co-presidents."

He finished his speech leaning into Eddie's space, smiling at him, and holding a hand out for Eddie to shake. Eddie just looked at him, eyes boring into Steve's as he turned on the couch so he could slide his hand into Steve's, holding it still.

"I'll be your co-president, Steve Harrington. As long as I can also be the one to remind you that you were also just a teenager when this all started. Maybe we can go do something fun together...without the kids."

Steve crooked a smile at him, running his thumb over Eddie's knuckles. "Soooo, like a date?"

Eddie sucked in a breath as a blush spread across his cheeks. "I- Would that- I mean- Are you- Hahaha ok."

Steve chuckled. "Ok. Let's go. I have this rental for another night, so why don't we go to the theater? See something new? Their popcorn's better anyway."

He stood, pulling Eddie up, officially ending their first meeting of the Protect the Kids' Childhood club and officially beginning their first date of the rest of their lives.

gif of baby!Dustin beneath the cut

Eddie Sees The Photo Of The Party From The Halloween Of '84 And Freaks Out About Them All Being Babies!
5 months ago

Romance Masterpost

How to write it

How to write romance

Love Language - Showing, not telling love

Love Language - Showing you care

Honeymoon

Slow burn

Forbidden Romance (+ prompts)

Reasons for a break-up while still loving each other

How to write a wedding

How to create quick chemistry

How to write a love-hate relationship

How to write enemies to lovers (+ prompts)

How to write lovers to enemies to lovers

Arranged matrimony for royalty (+ prompts)

Date gone wrong

Academic rivals to lovers

Romantic Fall Date Ideas

How to write a polyamorous relationship

Milestones in a relationship

How to write age difference

Fluffy Kiss Scene

Reasons a couple would divorce on good terms

Reasons for having a crush on someone

Ways a wedding could go wrong

Prompt Lists

Romance Prompt Lists (Masterpost)

Bad romances/unrequited/break-up (Masterpost)

Flirting + Teasing Prompts (Masterpost)

Kisses Masterpost (Prompts, First Kiss, Accidental Kiss, …)

Two smart and also stupid people in love

Push and pull romantic prompts

Lovers to enemies

Love to hate relationship

Smut Prompts (Masterpost)

One-Liners Dialogue - Romantic, Smutty + Physical

Things said during sex prompts

Jealousy Prompts

OTP Christmas Prompts

Fluffy Winter Holiday Prompts

Romance Sentence Starters

Romantic Question Prompts

Domestic Fluff Prompts

Fluff Prompts

Fluff Bingo

Fluffy Sentence Starters

Sleepy Starters

Fluffy Dialogue Prompts

Super soft intimacy

make ā€˜em swoon

Cute Interactions

Romantic, non-sexual intimacy prompts

Fake Dating Prompts (Masterpost)

OT3 Prompts (Masterpost)

Meet Cutes/Meet Uglies

Royal Love (Masterpost)

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Hurt/Comfort Prompts

Caring for their partner prompts

Roommates to LoversĀ (Masterpost)

Professor/TA Romance

Friends with benefits to lovers Prompts

Romance Dialogue Prompts – Uncomfortable with affection

Matchmaking Prompts

Valentine’s Day Prompts

Hand-holding

Kisses

Hugs

Touching

Hugging Dialogue

Physical Reactions

Casual Affections

Intimate Moments

Doing nice things prompts

Love LanguagesĀ (Masterpost)

Subtle Acts of Love

Bed Sharing Scenarios

Seeking out physical affection

Asking for permission

Love Confessions (Masterpost)

Lovers being caught Prompts

Love Triangle Ideas

Soulmates AU (Masterpost)

WLW Plot Ideas

Second chance trope

Cooking/Baking Dialogue Prompts

Quiet movie night Prompts

Grumpy + Sunshine Dialogue

Grumpy Affectionate Dialogue

Exes to lovers Prompts (Masterpost)

Reluctant allies to friends to lovers dynamic

Best friends to lovers Prompts

Childhood friends to lovers Prompts

Workplace Romance (Masterpost)

Secret relationship dialogue

Date Prompts (Masterpost)

One Night Stand Prompts

Parallel Universe Romance Prompts

Lover being hurt Prompts

Relationship Milestones (Masterpost: moving in, getting married, honeymoon)

Relationship Problems

Relationship Changes

Ship Dynamics

OTP Prompt Challenge

Enemies to Lovers Masterpost

ā€˜Imagine your OTP’ Prompts

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1 year ago

I need and will have this art in my mind, while writing fanfiction.

Apocalypse

Apocalypse

2 months ago

Steve will drop lore on Eddie in this ā€˜everybody knows this, catch up’ kinda way when it painfully clear that everybody absolutely did not know this.

Like, Eddie asks Steve to move his chair so he can slide passed him like three time in the middle of a party at the Byers and is being ignored. Finally, he’s like, ā€œGround control to Major Asshole. Can you hear me?ā€

Steve’s only notices him because he kicks his chair in the process and is like, ā€œOh, sorry, man. Gotta talk on my other side. I lost my hearing on this side.ā€

Which, great.

Eddie feels like an asshole but he can actually put that to the side because the whole table is just like, ā€œā€¦what? Since when?ā€

ā€œUmā€¦ā€ Steve says, like. Yeah. This is common knowledge. ā€œTwo years ago?ā€

One time in the middle of the summer, Eddie is ogling the freckles across Steve’s shoulders at a pool party when Steve yawns. Eddie jokingly asks if teaching Robin to drive tired him out that much and Steve’s like, ā€œNah, I had a seizure this morning. Those tire me out for days. It’s so annoying.ā€

ā€œWoah,ā€ because Eddie didn’t even know that was something on their radar. Neither did Nancy judging by the whole plate of hotdogs she just dropped on the ground.

Steve causally mentioned that he didn’t have his appendix anymore a couple weeks after they closed the gate officially. Eddie asked when he had the surgery expecting an answer to be when he was a kid, but Steve gives him a weird look like, ā€œUh, couple weeks ago.ā€

ā€œA couple - what?ā€ Jonathan sputtered from across the room. ā€œA couple weeks ago, we killed Vecna.ā€

ā€œYeahh???ā€ Steve rolled his eyes. ā€œAnd then I had my appendix taken out. That’s what happens when you’re stabbed.ā€

ā€œYou were stabbed?!?ā€

ā€œC’mon, man. You were there. Keep up.ā€

Eddie is shut up mid-sentence by lips against his and, wow. Whoa. Steve Harrington kissing him right now and Eddie should definitely kiss back but, ā€œYou like guys? I’ve had a chance this whole time?ā€

ā€œI’m literally bisexual.ā€

1 month ago
Steddie Brainrot Taking Over Me Fr
Steddie Brainrot Taking Over Me Fr

steddie brainrot taking over me fr

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samsoble - A Little Bit Chaos
A Little Bit Chaos

Just stuff from my brain and the Internet.

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