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4nemo1egend · 9 months

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How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 15

Part One Part Fourteen Link to ao3

Not exactly in love with this one but I just needed to move past it at this point RIP

“Jonathan, how are you so bad at this? It’s literally impossible that you are this bad at decorating.” Nancy proclaimed exasperatedly as the two of them watched the garland slip away from her boyfriend and fall to the ground for the fourth time in a row.

Steve snorted at Nancy’s loud declaration, hiding the bright smile on his face behind a hand. The couple had come early to help him set up for the party, but most of their time had been spent choosing various records to listen to throughout the night and making fun of Jonathan’s absolutely abysmal decorating skills.

“I’m Jewish!” Jonathan protested, his cheeks burning a soft red as he began to climb down the ladder once more, “I don’t know how this works!”

“You guys celebrate Christmas too,” Nancy shot back, walking over to grab the garland from the ground and hand it up to him so he didn’t have to come all the way down again.

“Will and my mom do,” Jonathan argued, gearing up for round five with the decorations, “I refuse on principle,”

“Principle,” Nancy huffed, rolling her eyes and turning to Steve with a look. It was a look he knew well, the one that said ‘can you believe him?’.

It was fun to be on the other side of that look

Steve shrugged at her silent question, staying out of the debate as he reached for another glass bauble. His mother was very particular about where on the tree each ornament had to go, and even if she wasn’t going to see it this year, Steve still wanted it to look perfect.

He had no idea why he cared when she obviously didn’t anymore, but maybe Jonathan was right. Sometimes it was about the principle of things.

Speaking of Jonathan, Steve looked away from the tree just in time to see the garland slip out of his hands for a record fifth time. There was no hiding his laughter this time, and Nancy joined Steve in unstoppable giggles as Jonathan gave them both a spiteful scowl.

“Okay, I give up. Decorations are stupid, and impossible, and not worth the effort,” Jonathan grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and pushing out a short irritated sigh.

“Byers, the night we became friends your house was literally covered in Christmas lights,” Steve joked, scooping up the garland and hopping up onto the other side of the ladder, “I think you can handle it.”

Steve held the decoration up in place, raising his eyebrows and briefly making eye contact before looking at the hammer in Jonathan’s hands.

”Yeah, and do you remember how the house looked, Harrington?” Jonathan asked rhetorically, a wry grin overtaking the grumpy look as he picked up the hammer and began to position the first nail.

“That was the night you guys became friends?” Nancy interjected before Steve could reply.

Steve hummed in consideration, turning his head down to look at her. She was standing just below them, arms crossed as she raised one slim brow in their direction.

“Sure. Why not?” Jonathan shrugged, smacking the nail right on the head.

“Yeah, Nance. Everyone knows that the best way to make friends is killing interdimensional monsters together,” Steve announced, like that was completely common knowledge that she obviously should have known.

There was a brief silence as Nancy and Steve stared each other down, and then she cracked, snorting out a soft huff of laughter and shaking her head. Jonathan snickered from the other side of the ladder, and Steve indulged himself in a slightly cheesy grin.

It was nice, the easy way of things now that they had finally talked. There was nothing hanging over the three of them-

Well, there was nothing hanging over them that they had created. Sure, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan still had secrets, but they were shared secrets, and that made the weight all the lighter.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish,” Steve said idly as they went back to focusing on the garland.

“On my mom’s side,”Jonathan explained, grabbing the last nail, reaching into Steve’s space to hammer it in, “Now that my dad finally took off for good we can actually talk about it without it starting a fight,”’

Yet another reason to hate Lonnie Byers. Steve didn’t really understand being Jewish or anything, but this obviously mattered to Jonathan, and it didn’t seem like it would be that hard to include some Hanukkah things in with Christmas.

Wait.

“Should I have gotten like a menorah too? Or some kind of special food?” Steve asked as they began to climb down, suddenly worried that he might be acting just like Lonnie by not including something special for their holiday too.

“Hanukkah was almost two weeks ago, Steve,” Jonathan deadpanned, “Don’t worry, all the being Jewish is done for the year,”

Shit. He didn’t even know that. Here he was trying to claim that they were spontaneously friends now, but this was just another reminder of how little Steve actually understood about Jonathan.

He knew Nancy as much as Nancy let anyone know her, but Jonathan was still an X factor. Even after their moment in the Wheeler’s basement, it still felt like there was this fortress around him, a big heavy wall built by years of being jaded and fearful of the way the rest of the world treated him. Jonathan’s mindset seemed to be permanently stuck in hurt before you get hurt- a spikey, reactionary way of living that made him use his words as weapons

Steve understood it, but he wanted to be able to find a way to get around it.

He didn’t want walls. Not with them. Not anymore. He just didn’t know how to start climbing. But apparently Jonathan was going to throw him down a rope.

“But…I appreciate the thought,” Jonathan added in a softer tone when he saw Steve’s wince, awkward and unsure as he carefully avoided eye contact, “It’s nice. That you care. You know?”

Steve didn’t reply because he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but he gently bumped his shoulder against Jonathan’s, hoping that would say everything he wanted to. Judging by the blush on Jonathan’s cheeks, it had at least had some effect.

Progress was progress. Steve would take it.

He walked back over to the tree, both of the others following him like ducklings, looking slightly lost now that most of the other decorations were up. Steve had smoothly avoided having them by the tree, but now there was no way to keep them back without it seeming weird.

“Okay,” Steve sighed, hating the way his shoulders were automatically starting to tense up, “So Nancy if you want to do the blue ones, they go in a full circle at the bottom, and then a clockwise diagonal spiral up to the top. Clockwise like to the left and up. Jonathan there should be two red ones on every level, so you can do those. Well, up until you get to the last five, then it’s just one red one on every level, because there isn’t enough space. Make sure you space them out enough to leave room, but not spaced out in the same places. When we’re done with the basic ones, we can add the special ones.”

It was the instructions his mother gave him every year, the ones Steve knew by heart. He was an expert in tree decorating by now, and he was used to directing whoever was helping him with a deadly efficiency.

But instead of just starting the way Tommy and Carol might have, Jonathan and Nancy gave Steve a shared look of confusion.

“They’re ornaments, Steve,” Nancy said, slowly, like she was talking to one of the kids, “Wherever we put them should be fine, right?”

No. It wasn’t.

This was the way the tree was supposed to look, the way Steve had decorated it every single year of his life. His mother would get upset if the tree looked wrong, and then his dad would be irritated that she was in a mood, and it would be all Steve’s fault for just not making the tree look the way it was supposed to.

But…

“Hello darling! I guess you’re out with Tommy and Carol right now, but I hope you get home soon. Even when we aren’t there your curfew is still midnight. You know I worry if I don’t know where you are.”

But did she still worry about him? Did his mother know that Steve hadn’t paid attention to curfew since he was about fifteen? She didn’t know he hadn’t spoken to Tommy and Carol in almost a year.

“Listen, Steven, I’m so sorry, but there’s been a slight change of plans. Your father and I were supposed to be home on Christmas Eve, but one of his partners invited us to a Christmas party in New York. We really can’t miss this, not when they’re still considering that merger with Smith and Kinsey. I know you understand.”

But he didn’t. Not really. He understood his father, but why did she have to go with him? Why couldn’t just his mom come back home?

“We’re going to try and come back for a few days between Christmas and New Years. I’ll try to call in the morning on Christmas.”

But she wouldn’t be able to come back. They would find some excuse. Some party, some work event, some reason to not have to be here. They always did.

Ah! Alright, Richard, I’m coming! Sorry, your father brought the car around and he’s honking up a storm. I love you Steven!”

But…

But his mother wasn’t going to see the tree this year.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, knowing that he had already waited too long to reply and they had caught on that something deeper was at play, “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Ring. Ring.

Saved by the bell.

“I’ll get the door,” Steve said, relieved for a reason to take away the ornaments. He carefully covered the box and placed it on the table, watching to make sure not a single bauble was jostled out of place. When they were safe, he turned to Nancy and Jonathan, shooting them a winning KingSteve smile.

It was fine. He was fine.

“Nancy, put on some music and Jonathan… you make us some Hanukkah decorations to add in here,” Steve directed, giving them jobs that were far away from the tree.

Rinnnnnnnnng. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“How am I supposed to-“

“I believe in you!” Steve called out behind him, already walking away before Jonathan could finish his questions. Steve had no idea what a Hanukkah decoration would be, but if it mattered to the Byers, then it mattered to him.

Plus this would be a great distraction from the tree, and the ornaments, and all of the stupid emotions that came with them.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“I’m coming!” Steve yelled as the doorbell continued to obnoxiously chime. Someone was pressing on it over and over, and he had a pretty good idea of who was waiting for him on the other side.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri-

“Do you know how annoying that is?” Steve said as he opened the door, looking down at Eddie who was bent at the waist, staring at the bell with laser-like intensity as he pressed it as quickly as he could over and over.

Eddie popped up, giving Steve a gremlin smirk and scrunching up his nose in an oddly adorable way.

“We’ve been waiting out here for ages,” Eddie replied, dragging out the word as he tilted his head back and groaned, “I thought you would have the butler standing at attendance waiting for our arrival, Sweetheart.”

“Gave him the week off for the holiday. Sorry, Babydoll,” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes as he looked at the rest of the group waiting on his doorstep and waved them in.

It wasn’t the entirety of Hellfire, not even by half. Jeff and Frank were standing behind Eddie, and no one else. They were bundled up in coats and hats and scarves, a stark contrast to Eddie who was wearing only a long sleeve shirt and a beanie on top of his mountain of curls.

“Just you guys?” Steve asked, trying and failing to hide some of his disappointment. He knew that asking them this late would probably mean that most of them had plans, but it was still a little bit of a let down that they couldn’t even find time to stop by.

“Uh yeah,” Jeff said as he walked past Steve, taking off his scarf as he did and launching into explanations for everyone’s absences. Janet was in Chicago visiting family, Kaiden’s whole clan was out ice fishing for the week, and Rocky was semi-permanently grounded and thus unable to find a way to sneak out with his parents both home from work for the holidays.

“And Gareth?” Steve asked, trying to ignore the way all three of them immediately winced.

“He wasn’t feeling great,” Eddie replied, just a shade too fast.

It was a lie, a really obvious lie, but Steve didn’t call him out on it. Truthfully he hadn’t really expected Gareth to make it anyway. Steve wasn’t the brightest when it came to school, but he was pretty great at reading people, and he knew well enough how Gareth felt about him.

“Are we…early?” Frank asked hesitantly, looking around at the mostly empty house, deftly changing the subject.

Steve furrowed his brow, taking a cursory glance at the clock on the wall just to be sure that he was right.

“Uh yeah? It’s only five?” Steve questioned back, quirking his head to the side, not quite connecting the dots.

Jeff and Frank immediately began to groan, and Eddie ducked his head, hiding his face behind his hair as his cheeks immediately darkened to a deep rouge.

“I told you he said it started at seven!” Jeff shouted, throwing up his hands.

“Dude, you never listen,” Frank snapped, shooting Eddie a fairly severe glare.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” Eddie sighed, pulling on his curls and giving Steve a sheepish little look, “We can come back later if you want?”

“No, it’s totally fine,” Steve quickly replied, wanting to erase the sadness from Eddie’s eyes as fast as he could. Something about seeing him this way was setting off every one of Steve’s instincts and that just couldn’t stand, “You guys can help us finish setting up,”

“Us?”

“Jonathan and Nancy came early too,” Steve said with a grin.

He was going to make a joke about the fact that they had been invited to come early, unlike the boys, but he hesitated when he saw the instant stormy look that had appeared on Eddie’s face the second he heard their names. His jaw was set tight, and there was a tightness in his shoulders that looked almost painful.

Huh.

“If you guys wanna go through, we’re almost done. Just the tree and a few other things left,” Steve instructed. Jeff and Frank went in past him, but Steve caught Eddie’s sleeve as he walked by, pulling him into a short stop.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked, pitching his voice softer so no one else would catch the question. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but it felt important enough to mention.

Eddie paused for a second before doing a complete one eighty. His eyes got big and wide, far too innocent to be real, and he pulled a thin smile that looked completely wrong.

“All good,” Eddie chirped.

Another way too fast response. Eddie’s tells were so easy. Steve raised a single brow, waiting and seeing if Eddie would crack under the pressure and fess up to the lie.

No dice. Eddie was good at putting up his walls when he needed to be, even if he was crap at lying.

“Seriously, Steve, I’m fine,” Eddie insisted, holding out his hand. Steve sighed, taking it and immediately gasping at the sensation.

It was like touching pure ice.

“Eddie!” Steve exclaimed, reaching out and taking Eddie’s other hand, holding them both tightly in his own. He leaned his head down low, blowing hot air on the two frozen popsicles in his clutches, rubbing Eddie’s fingers to try and get some more blood flowing.

“You need to wear gloves,” Steve lectured, continuing to warm Eddie’s hands, “Frostbite sucks, and it’s like negative two with wind chill! You need a coat to wear your coat too. I know you have one, so where is it? Huh? Just because you like to go against ‘the man’ doesn't mean you get to act dumb. Do you want to get sick? Because this is how you get sick, Eds. If you need gloves, I can lend you a pair. You at least need…”

Steve trailed off after a quick glance upward, his heart stuttering in his chest.

Eddie was staring down at him, his eyes wide with something new that Steve couldn’t quite identify. He almost looked scared, but he wasn’t pulling away. The red was back in his cheeks, but there was no shame on his face, no guilt.

Steve slowly straightened up, still holding Eddie’s hands tightly, his thumb continuing to worry against Eddie’s slightly thawed out palm. Steve’s stomach was doing weird somersaults and when he tried to speak, no words seemed to want to come.

“Um-”

“HEY GUYS!”

Frank’s shout startled them both into action. Eddie ripped his hands away, pulling them in close towards his chest, and Steve jumped about a foot in the air, knocking his shoulder painfully against the wall as he did. He dragged a sharp breath in, eyes scrunching up as a wave of hurt washed down his arm.

“Coming!” Eddie yelped, and Steve opened his eyes just in time to see Eddie hurrying away from him and into the hallway.

His heart lurched again, more painful this time than nervous. Eddie hadn’t even done anything, he had just walked away, but something about it hurt, and it hurt badly. Steve wasn’t sure why he couldn’t stand people walking away from him anymore, but it was even worse when it was Eddie.

Then right at the entrance of the living room, Eddie paused, turning around and facing Steve.

Another long look. Another silence that Steve didn’t know how to break. Even the ache in his shoulder had vanished in the pressure of the moment

But then Eddie held out his hand, a tiny little grin overtaking his features as his eyes went soft and warm.

“You comin’ Sweetheart?”

The tension slid away from Steve’s body at the question, and he nodded. His anxiety melted away, and Steve walked forward, interlocking their fingers and dragging Eddie into the living room.

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

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One of the things I don't see a lot around online is the talk about the frustration that comes with being disabled. It seems to easy to make your peace with the fact that you're disabled, that your body just has new limitations. I'm only talking from personal perspective here, naturally.

But then you get slapped in the face with new limits, new struggles, and problems. You realise you can't be like your peers. You can't be like everyone else. And you never will. And as someone with great ambition who is hard working and creative and who thrives from creating and showing people their art and work - it sucks. It sucks so much. It sucks to be given the time off of work you earned so hard only to be faced by the limitations your body and existence now have. To struggle with brain fog, fatigue, lethargy, aches and pains.

If anyone else is struggling with this and feeling frustrated with conditions out of their control, I see you and hear you. I may not be able to help but you're not alone. There's at least this one person out there who struggles too and who curses their existence every day alongside you. And ya know what? We'll figure it out somehow. And until then, we can be frustrated and angry and use that anger as fuel for our fight against the unjust universe.

#physically disabled #disabled #disability #disability struggles #fibro problems #fuck fibro #fibro flare #fibromyalgia #chronic illnesses #chronically ill #chronic pain #chronic fatigue #brain fog #actually disabled

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

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Summer lovin', happened so fast

☀️

Eddie solo art

Steve solo art

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

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diluc dedicating his life to mondstadt… diluc dedicating his life to his god… venti never really asking for anything… diluc giving anyway… do you understand????? here is a man and his god. here is a man who has almost lost his faith… and the god who never truly left…

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

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Original Story / Oneshot

Original Characters: Hana, Ryuu, Davey, Rhody

Wordcount: 3.197

tags and trigger warnings: mafia; gangs and clans; injured mc; blood and injuries; graphic depiction of heavy injuries; mentions of abuse and physical harm against female character; strong language; out of context; oneshot

this is a oneshot about my OC's, a scene I had in mind for who knows how long and finally managed to write it out!

here's some short background info for context:

Hana and Davey are in the same mafia clan; Davey is the son and successor of the current boss and Hana his assigned bodyguard as well as an undercover FBI agent (she's trying to take down Davey's clan)

Hana and Davey kinda have a fwb thing going but not really, let's just say it's complicated

Ryuu is the boss' right-hand man of the rivaling clan but Davey decided to collaborate with him, having a higher motive in mind

Ryuu is fed up with how things are going in general for longer already and finds interest in Davey, so he decides to go with Davey's idea

Hana and Ryuu can't stand each other in the current timeline

She was desperate.

For once in a very long time, Hana was truly desperate.

She’d never thought these assholes would manage to corner her and especially not to actually beat her up. But here she was; battered, blood dripping down her right temple, and with a dislocated shoulder as she was running through narrow and abandoned streets. And all that with mentioned assholes still hot on her heels.

She’d managed to make an escape by feigning to cry her heart out and begging for mercy, which only caused the thugs to laugh but it was enough of a distraction for her to slip away.

Hana was panting hard, the wheezing sound of her lungs with every breath she took signalizing her that she wouldn’t make it much longer and needed help.

Asap.

Or the guys would finally get what they wanted.

Which was her head on a silver platter.

Their words, not her thoughts.

Usually, three or four guys wouldn’t pose much of a problem for Hana. Everyone knew that she was tough and strong, her fighting skills being the talk of the town, and causing many to pay her respect or to keep their distance. But these guys were really out for blood.

Literally.

They’ve made it clear that she wasn’t just any random victim but a specifically chosen target and therefore must’ve planned this attack meticulously beforehand. Seeing that they still hadn’t given up on her, she knew she couldn’t escape them alone, especially not in her current condition.

There was only one person she could think of that could help her in this situation, without thinking much or asking too many questions. Thankfully, she wasn’t far from the club where she and said person were regulars, and considering that it was a Friday night, she was sure he would be there.

With her mind set on Davey, Hana gritted her teeth as she sped up and hauled ass. She suppressed a groan while tightening the grip on her left arm to keep it from moving much. The pain was almost unbearable but she simply kept going.

“Oh, sweetheart! You don’t need to run, we will get you anyway now that you’re unable to go against us,” one of her pursuers called in a singsong and the realization of how close they actually were, sent a fresh wave of adrenaline surging through her veins. It spurred her on and she ran even faster, ignoring the threat that was hunting her down.

Taking the next turn, the bright and flashy lights of the club greeted her and for the first time in a very long time, the overwhelming urge to cry overcame Hana. But this was not the right situation for it, nor did she have the time for it, so she simply kept going.

Hana’s steps echoed through the empty street as she closed the distance between her and the safety-promising door of the club. For a brief moment, she wondered why the bouncer was missing. But she had more important problems at hand right now, so she pushed the thought away just as fast.

The moment she reached out with her right hand and closed it around the cool metal handle, a voice boomed behind her. “Don’t even try to hide! We’ll catch you anywhere and then you’re done for, oh mighty Lioness.”

Hana didn’t look back.

His raspy voice uttering those threats, accompanied by the stupid nickname people on the streets had given her, sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. The finality of his words left no room for speculation.

She didn’t need to see his face to know that he meant it.

Hana opened the door, the muffled sound of the music becoming clearer the moment she stepped inside the hallway that led directly to the main room. She didn’t waste any time, making her way through the scattered crowd, and eyes scanning the area for Davey’s familiar green-brown and light blue gaze.

The longer she searched, the more noticeable the ache in her left shoulder became, considering that the adrenaline was slowly seeping out of her blood system again. But Hana once again braced herself against the excruciating pain as she made a beeline for the bar. She hoped to find Davey there.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she noticed that her pursuers had just entered the club and were now trying to make out her position among all the people. She ducked slightly, grimacing as another flash of pain shot through her.

She searched the bar area for him, double-checked, even triple-checked her surroundings— but Davey was nowhere to be found. Assuming he was in the back, in one of the VIP rooms for work matters, she decided to ask the bartender. Leaning heavily against the counter and snapping her fingers, she tried to get his attention.

It took a few tries but eventually, the familiar guy, Rhody, turned around and gasped as his gaze fell on her.

“Hana… What happened to you? Do you need help?”

Hana took a deep breath.

“Where’s Davey?” was all she asked, voice hoarse from exertion.

Rhody was still taken aback, yet soon enough he seemed to understand that the situation was urgent.

“Uh… I-I haven’t seen him yet tonight, I don’t think he’s here…” he answered truthfully.

Hana tipped her head back and closed her eyes in search of patience.

How much bad luck can one person have, especially when in need of help?

Obviously, a whole lot of it, taking into account what happened next.

“You look pretty rough, pipsqueak. Someone finally managed to beat you up?” a deep and way too familiar voice rasped right beside Hana’s left ear.

Out of all the people she wanted to see or ask for help right now— he was surely the very last.

Seems like her luck had definitely failed her tonight.

She looked back down, forest green eyes zeroing in on dark gray ones. Hana tried putting on her best deadpan look but the ache in her shoulder was too overwhelming and she felt close to fainting.

Ryuu, the man sitting right next to her and who had just asked the most unnecessary question regarding her situation, simply stared blankly at her.

Considering that he was, first and foremost, the right-hand man of their enemy gang, she couldn’t simply trust him. But on the other hand, Davey did, and Hana trusted Davey and his judgment. So she could at least try to tell him what was happening and maybe hope for his help. But Hana also knew that they both didn’t like each other much, so her chances were close to none.

She decided it was needless to even ask.

“I was looking for— ugh…” Hana almost choked on her words as a wave of pain washed over her. “...for Davey. Do you happen to know where he is, dimwit?”

No matter the situation she was in, she simply couldn’t just take his snarky nickname for her without at least returning the favor.

Raising an eyebrow at her, Ryuu answered after a few moments of silence. “He’s not here tonight, said something about his dad calling him over on short notice for a business appointment. He also said he didn’t reach ya and to tell ya exactly that if I saw you.”

Ryuu gave Hana a disapproving side glance before adding. “So, mission accomplished, I’d say.”

Looking back at her pursuers, Hana’s heart skipped a beat and she once again ducked her head so that they wouldn’t notice her. She tapped the bartender Rhody’s hand and asked him if he could let her out the backdoor. He nodded and beckoned her to follow him to one of the doors that led to the backrooms.

Before she could actually take a step, a big hand wrapped around her left arm. The moment Ryuu tried to pull her back, Hana cried out loud but immediately covered her mouth to not attract any attention.

Tears involuntarily streamed down her face as she glared back at Ryuu, who instantly let go of her again, gaze horror-stricken.

The black-haired man was taken aback, wide eyes staring at her but soon after a terrifying expression spread on his face. His eyes turned dark, almost black as he narrowed his gaze.

His deep voice was eerily calm as he asked. “Who did this to you?”

Hana didn’t know what to say or how to react, the menacing aura radiating off of his body sending shivers through her body and setting off her fight or flight senses. Her mind was literally screaming at her to act fast and bring as much distance between her and the predator sitting before her.

She knew she could never last against him, even if she tried.

Not in her top condition and especially not in her current condition.

But despite her senses being on high alert, she soon realized that his anger wasn’t directed at her.

Ryuu had always been the quiet type, only speaking up when really needed or to utter last warnings before he acted. But she’d only seen him once in a similar state like tonight. It wasn’t a pleasant sight and she remembered being glad about the fact that she wasn’t his opponent at that moment.

Hana still faltered, her tongue feeling heavy and refusing to work. She opened her mouth a few times, hope lingering somewhere at the back of her mind but reality soon enough caught up with her again.

She knew he would never help her. He’d rather make fun of her, Hana was pretty sure of that. With this in mind, she took a deep breath, her head hung low as she wiped away some of the tears.

“You don’t need to feign interest, yanno? I’ll just disappear from here and tend to my wounds at home myself. I’m just really not in need of any teasing from you tonight, Ryuu,” Hana said, calling him by his actual name for maybe the third time since they’d gotten to know each other.

Hana lifted her head and glanced at him, the same relentless expression still lingering on his face, hardening his features, and she could see his jaw working. A movement right behind him caught her attention and her eyes grew wide with horror.

Besides being the right-hand man of the enemy clan’s boss, Ryuu had a lot of tactically enriching skills, which also included a sharp sense of perception. So, of course, Hana’s reaction to seeing the thugs that had brought her into this situation didn’t go unnoticed.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryuu turning around and eyeing the men wading through the crowd, still in search of their target. Ryuu then turned back to her and his gaze seemed even darker, determination settling on his features.

“It was them, right?” he asked, not even waiting for her to answer. Instead, he turned to Rhody and gave him instructions, voice low and grim. “Bring her to one of the backrooms.”

Rhody simply nodded and glanced over to Hana.

She was still taken aback at the turn of events until Ryuu once again looked at her and said. “I’ll take care of this matter. You go and rest in the backroom until I come to get you. Understood?”

Hana was caught between feeling relief and anger; relief because someone, even if it was Ryuu, was actually willing to help her and anger because it was Ryuu and she didn’t like him bossing her around.

But she was also very well aware of the fact that her options were limited and Ryuu was the only one at hand and offering his help.

Hana nodded and gave him a thankful gaze.

Without another word, he turned around, making his way towards her pursuers with his footmen following quietly. Hana didn’t need to see it to know that none of the thugs would make it out on their own two feet tonight, so she turned around as Rhody gently squeezed her right shoulder, insinuating her to follow him.

A few minutes passed, in which Rhody brought her water and a soft towel so that she could clean herself up, at least from the worst. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting inside the wide room, nicely done up with expensive-looking furniture and specially set up for business meetings— or whatever other things people did in here. Considering that she had almost emptied the small bottle of water, it must’ve been some time and after another few minutes, the door eventually opened with a soft click.

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately finding Ryuu’s as he stared back at her. He didn’t have a single scratch on him, though his clothes looked a bit ruffled. Hana got up from the couch but a flash of pain immediately shot through the left half of her body and she involuntarily collapsed on the couch again.

In the blink of an eye, Ryuu was beside her and held her, more gently than she would’ve expected from this brute of a man. He didn’t say a word, nor did he do anything else. They just sat there for a few moments while Hana tried to calm down again, her breathing still heavy from the lingering ache in her left shoulder.

After another minute, Ryuu shifted slightly beside her and leaned back to take a look at Hana. He grunted quietly.

“Dislocated shoulder?” he asked.

Hana nodded weakly. She’d clearly reached her limits tonight.

“Want me to set it?”

The fear of it was almost overwhelming and Hana faltered for a brief moment, even whining quietly as she pondered her options and stared at him with panic in her eyes.

“It’ll hurt like a bitch but only for a moment,” Ryuu stated, matter-of-factly. “But it’ll be easier for ya after.”

And Hana knew he was right. She knew that she would need a few tries to set her arm herself and that it would only hurt a lot more.

But could she really trust him?

Again; he was the right-hand man of the enemy clan and therefore her natural enemy in the first place. But considering that Davey, the son and successor of the clan she was a member of, her best friend and the one she was assigned to guard and protect, had bonded with Ryuu and trusted him— she probably had no other choice.

Still very much reluctant but willing to sacrifice her principles, she eventually nodded and hummed in agreement.

Ryuu acknowledged her trust, eyes turning a notch softer and Hana would’ve probably missed it if she hadn’t been studying his face for any signs of malice right at that moment. But there were none and so she tried to empty her mind and brace herself for the worst as Ryuu put his hands in place.

With one hand pressing gently against the front of her left shoulder joint and the other holding onto her forearm, Ryuu took a deep breath. He inhaled loudly through his nose and Hana thought it was to signalize her that he would act on the exhale. She steeled her nerves and closed her eyes, waiting for the moment he’d exhale through his mouth— but things took an unexpected turn.

Instead, the moment he held his breath, Ryuu pushed hard against Hana’s shoulder, and with a muffled sound the joint popped into place. Right after, Ryuu released the breath he’d been holding in.

A jolt of excruciating pain shot through her arm and Hana couldn’t help but cry out in agony. Adrenaline flooded her system and her fight or flight senses once again came alive that night.

She jumped up from the couch and took a few steps back, a fresh wave of tears running down her face and staining her already bloodied shirt even more. Ryuu also got up and tried his best to not startle her even more.

“It’s okay. You did it, okay?” he said, voice deep and calm. “It’s over now, you can relax.”

And for whatever reason, his words actually helped and slowly soothed her panic. She tried to calm down fully but the pain and events from earlier had taken a heavy toll on her. She lowered her head as a heart-shattering sob ripped through the wide room.

Hana had seldom cried in her life.

Crying was a display of weakness, so being raised on the streets and as a mafia clan member, showing weakness was equal to offering yourself to the enemy without resistance. But at that moment, she simply wasn’t in the condition to keep her defense up anymore.

Hana was so out of it that she didn’t even notice the door opening and Davey barging in. Without hesitating, he walked over to her and wrapped his strong arms around her usually sturdy body. But tonight, Hana felt as fragile as a twig.

Any more pressure on her body and mind and they would snap just as easily.

She could hear both men talking but didn’t understand a single word. The soothing sound of Davey’s familiar voice reverberated through every fiber of her body and she slowly but surely came down again until her sobs stopped and tears dried.

It wasn’t until Davey leaned back a bit that Hana came back to her senses and noticed Ryuu staring at her with a mix of concern and curiosity in his dark gray eyes.

She’d always been fascinated by them.

“You okay there, shorty?” he rasped and Hana’s mind was way too foggy for her to recognize that he’d called her an endearing nickname this time instead of a snarky one. She just nodded once, burying her face in Davey’s broad chest again.

Davey chuckled quietly and answered in her stead.

“I think she’s ready to go home for now. Thanks once again for taking care of her,” Davey said. Hana couldn’t see his face but she was sure Davey was giving Ryuu one of his trademark adorable smiles. “I actually didn’t think you’d protect her, considering that you two literally hate each other.”

Davey laughed and Hana dared to take a peek at Ryuu who was slightly irritated, turning his face away from her and Davey.

“It wasn’t because of her. These guys were just annoying me on my night out at the club. You know I hate when I get interrupted by dimwits like them. They were asking for it.”

Another fit of laughter shook Davey’s body and Hana grinned to herself at the odd situation. After a few moments, Davey calmed down again.

“Well, then! Thanks for… keeping the peace of your night out and accidentally protecting my bodyguard in the process.” Davey smiled gently. “She’s very important to me, you know?”

Ryuu grunted, still very much grumpy about Davey implying that he had only protected Hana but soon enough they said their goodbyes to each other and Davey brought Hana home.

Davey took care of Hana’s wounds after they took a hot and calming bath together. Before she could dwell on what exactly everything that had happened tonight could mean for their future, she fell soundly asleep in Davey’s king-size bed.

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

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@steddie-week day 3: discover + first kiss

"There you are!" Eddie says, like he's been looking for him everywhere, his face even lighting up as he enters the kitchen.

"Here I am." Steve shoots back.

Steve's sure that he's wearing a similar expression. He missed him.

After Eddie and Robin graduated, Eddie took a job at a local auto shop while Robin and Steve took jobs at the library and filled out college applications.

During that time the three of them had gotten really close, talking each other through tough times and celebrating what they achieved together.

Steve moved with Robin to start school at the beginning of this year and Eddie stayed with his uncle, still figuring out what he wanted to do with his future.

So, this is the first time they've been apart for months since they met, and Steve did not anticipate how much he would need to see him, to hear him.

The phone doesn't do his voice justice.

Steve puts the dough down to wipe the flour off his hands, but his eyes never leave Eddie as he drops his tote bag on a stool across from Steve.

"Can't believe they left you here with all the work, man" Eddie laments, shaking his head and walking around the kitchen island to where Steve is.

Steve's heart beats oddly fast in his chest as he huffs a small laugh and tries to figure out if a hug is okay in the split second before Eddie pulls him into his arms.

Steve wraps his arms around him and rests his chin on Eddie's shoulder, relieved.

"I don't mind" Steve murmurs, about making the pizza while the kids catch up with Robin and Nancy in the living room.

Eddie chuckles, softly claps his back and pulls away to grab Steve's shoulders instead

"Of course you don't" he says, with mirth in his eyes "How are you, Stevie?" he asks, his head tilting to the side and his dimples showing.

"Hi" Steve says to those dimples he hadn't seen in so long "I mean- good. I'm good" Steve smiles, genuinely delighted. "How are you? How was the drive?" Steve asks

"Ugh, it was hell!" Eddie slumps a little when he says it, his exhaustion evident "but I'm good!" he assures, "you know what I need?"

Steve shakes his head no "What?"

"To help you make like seven pizzas right now," Eddie answers, squeezing Steve's shoulders before letting go. "Where do you need me?"

That's a question.

It's not like Steve hadn't notice his crush on Eddie before he moved away, but he was kind of ignoring it, or at least trying to for the sake of their friendship.

Clicking with someone the way he did with Eddie was rare for him, he didn't wanna risk losing that, especially after so many failed dates; Steve was just kinda over the whole thing.

And Eddie never showed anything more than friendly affection so, really, it was the right thing to do to just, pretend like Eddie's eyes weren't the only thing he could think of when the sun first filtered through his windows.

And he'd thought it would go away in time, and then with so many miles between them.

But here he is again, asking how he can help Steve cook pizza for their friends and Steve kinda wants to cry a bit, because no, of course it wouldn't go away.

If anything it seems distance has made it worse, Steve feels intoxicated by the smell of cigarettes and pine trees.

"Um, there's two in the oven" Steve points out, "and everything's already chopped up, I guess you can help me put the toppings on these next two?" Steve suggests, going back to knead two more bases out of the dough he left on the island countertop.

"Yessir!" Eddie salutes, walking back to rummage in his tote. "I brought brownies for dessert," Eddie offers, bringing out the container "totally safe." he assures.

"I have ice cream too, which I assume im putting there?" Eddie asks, pointing to the refrigerator behind Steve, Steve nods.

Eddie brings out the tub of ice cream and spots something else in his bag "oh and I had olives!" he places an olives jar on the table before walking towards the fridge.

"I thought you didn't like olives" Steve comments

Eddie sticks his head in their freezer and answers "oh, I don't mind them"

Steve fully turns to him with a confused frown "no, i remember you specifically requesting no olives in our pizza for the past, like, year"

Eddie's making space in their freezer, moving things around. He casually says "that's because you don't like them, Stevie" and continues his task like what he just said has no significance at all.

Steve blinks, feels stuck to where he's standing.

Steve had mentioned he doesn't like olives maybe a week after the whole upside down business, when the kids had been at Dustin's and Claudia had offered him salad during dinner, which he politely refused, because it had olives.

Eddie was there, they had all been working on characters for their next campaign and stayed for dinner. Steve had only dropped by to deliver a book Dustin left in his car, and Claudia invited him to stay.

Come to think of it, Eddie had enjoyed that salad just fine.

Steve never mentioned olives again.

And it wouldn't be until a month later that Eddie would first order pizza for them making that specific request.

For Steve.

And it's so silly, it's such a small thing, but all of a sudden a myriad of small things are thrust in Steve's face.

Eddie watching Grease with him, Eddie always knowing how he takes his coffee, Eddie singing along to ABBA in Steve's car, Eddie complimenting the jacket everyone said made him look dorky, Eddie keeping a Tears For Fears tape in his car, Eddie using one of his sick days to help him pack the stuff in his room, Eddie memorizing his schedule and calling him multiple times a week for the past few months exactly when he knew Steve would be home and bored without Robin.

It's like someone lifts a veil off his eyes.

Steve's watched Friday the 13th five times and would watch it again if it was with Eddie, he knows Eddie takes his coffee with a frankly concerning amount of sugar, there's a Black Sabbath record in his room right now!

He's never put in this type of effort with friends before! They either have similar tastes already or Steve doesn't feel the need to match them anyways.

It's different with Eddie, it's like he wants to be connected to him somehow, make sure they're close.

He didn't know Robin liked tea until they moved in together! He knows Eddie categorically refuses to try tea in any form. And actually, his uncle got him thinking about it and he's considering to change that, Eddie told him about it last Thursday while Robin was at band practice.

He's never tried somebody else's music without them asking for it, he's never volunteered to watch a horror movie, he's never worn clothes he thought wouldn't fit his style, he's only ever done that with

"Eddie" he says out loud, it comes out a little breathless but Eddie doesn't seem to notice.

"Hmm?" he acknowledges, finally placing the ice cream in the freezer and Steve catches a glimpse of it as Eddie shuts the freezer door.

He turns to Steve and raises his eyebrows.

"Was that cookies and cream?" Steve asks

"Mhm. Yep" Eddie confirms

"Why'd you buy that one?" Steve wants to know.

Eddie shrugs " 'Cause it's your favorite" he answers, easy.

So easy. Like he didn't even consider any other flavor.

"Why did you buy my favorite ice cream, Eddie?" Steve insists,

Eddie splutters "I- I um, I mean do you not-?" he trails off and looks at Steve's posture, the way he hasn't moved a hair in the last couple of moments must click then. His eyes trail up to meet Steve's again and realization dawns on his face.

"Holy shit, Steve. You didn't know?"

"What?! What do you mean I didn't know? Who knew?!"

"I-! um, everyone? I'm not exactly subt-"

"oh my god!"

Steve can feel the blood warming his face and ears and it seems to spring Eddie back into action.

"I mean! Clearly not everyone knew! You didn't know!" he says walking over to him and running his hands up and down Steve's arms "pfft, practically no one knew!"

"Eddie" Steve wants to laugh but he's afraid he might burst into tears.

"I thought you knew" Eddie says in the smallest voice he's used so far, his hands stilling.

"I'm sorry" Steve says,

"No!" Eddie protests, his hands coming up to grab Steve's face "No, sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry about"

Steve scoffs,

"Of course you didn't know!" Eddie continues "I never told you!" his hands caress Steve's cheeks and Steve thinks his knees might give out.

"So, I'm telling you now" Eddie says, determined. He takes a deep breath.

He looks into Steve's eyes and says "Steve, I am crazy about you. Not a day has gone by since the eighth fucking grade where I haven't thought about you. And since last year, it has been nothing but good things. I promise"

Steve snorts a laugh at that, his hands coming up to hold on to Eddie's wrists as they both shake with soft laughter.

"You have the most beautiful smile i have ever seen in my life" Eddie goes on. "You are the bravest, kindest, most badass person I know, your hair is a fucking miracle and your eyes. god, your eyes. i have tried to find something that even remotely gets close to the color of your eyes and I can't, and I've resigned myself to never finding it because even an exact match would not make me feel the way your eyes do. Because they're very pretty, but it's not about the color. It's just the fact that you're looking at me"

"God, Eddie" Steve sniffles, not sure what to even do with all the happiness inside of him.

Eddie scoffs a soft laugh "Seeing you happy makes me very happy." he explains "So i try to do little things that'll help that happen. That's why I bought your favorite ice cream, Stevie"

Steve smiles at him and rubs circles against his wrists.

Eddie, seemingly unable to stop talking says "it's selfish really, if you think abo-"

"I'm gonna kiss you now" Steve tells him

"Oh, oka-mmph"

Eddie's lips are soft and gentle and Steve has to coax him into being less tentative but once he does, Eddie kisses him insistently, never letting Steve get too far away, like he can't get enough of Steve. It makes Steve's heart flutter in his chest.

When they finally come up for breath Steve tells him "I can't believe you like olives" trailing his hands down his sides.

Eddie laughs, Steve loves that sound.

"I can stop" Eddie reminds him, placing a peck against Steve's smile.

"And I don't like them" he continues "i just don't mind 'em"

Steve hums a disapproving tone but still leans in for another small kiss.

"I only brought them in case anyone wanted them! they were left over I swear" Eddie excuses against his lips. Steve giggles, his hands now on Eddie's waist, toying with his chains.

"You look good today" Steve tells him

"Oh?"

"Smell good too." Steve says, nosing his cheek. Eddie shivers.

"Always do" Steve clarifies, his mouth coming back to kiss Eddie softly as his hands trail up to play with strands of his hair.

"Your hair's so soft" Steve continues "and pretty. You're pretty"

It makes Eddie blush and Steve grins, delighted by what he achieved.

"And you're brave too Eds, and badass, and cool and fun" Steve smiles when Eddie scoffs but once he sobers up he continues "And I think your eyes are prettier than rays of sunshine." Steve tells him "And I think I'd do anything for you" he adds.

Before he can register the way Eddie's looking at him, Steve's being kissed again with an assuredness that makes him sigh.

The only thing that parts them is the oven timer dinging and even then, Steve has to threaten Eddie with no pizza if he doesn't let Steve go.

Steve doesn't think he's ever been happier.

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Text

Trans Eddie au pt 24! Oops.

First / Prev / Next

Preview for the next ep available now on patreon!

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Text

I can't wait to finish my last two exams so I can write my trans!Eddie ftm canon compliant Eddie!lives au diakxbxjjabs

#eddie munson #steddie #trans eddie #steve harrington #stranger things wip

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Text

Steve calling Robin "Robert" as a nickname and her retaliating by calling him "Stephanie" is one of my personal favorite headcanons and I'll never let anyone take them away from me. Eddie rolls with it and wants to be included which gets him an honorary "Teddy" from Robin and Steve *loves* and uses it all of the time. It helps that its gender neutral bc he gets to talk about his Teddy Bear all the time

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie and robin friendship #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie robin and steve are the bestest friends #my best friend is called stefanie so this makes this headcanon even better bc both she and steve are badass people hoho

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Text

Some trans Eddie soft Steddie pre-relationship fluff for your Sunday. Modern au, college-aged, no kids, no upside down. Warning for blood and periods. Enjoy.

Blood pooled underneath Eddie where he sat.

His mind was working a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to get out of here.

Everyone else around him seemed blissfully unaware of his predicament. No one knew he was staining Steve Harrington’s mother’s white fucking couch a shiny crimson just by existing on top of it.

Eddie’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t move. Of course not. No one knew. He wasn’t out. He had to leave though, he had to figure out a way to run straight through the door without drawing attention to himself and never come back. And he had to do it fast, too, because if the sticky feeling between his legs was anything to go by, the leak would soon creep out from under him and then everyone would be able to see.

Eddie’s eyes started to sting. How could he have been so stupid? All it would have taken was a quick glance at the calendar but nooooo. He read online that six months of treatments would stop his period so he stopped even marking it. Idiot.

“Hey man, you ok?”

Fuck.

Steve was standing in front of him, looking genuinely concerned.

“I, uh, yeah, just…”

Eddie stuttered as he tried to think of an excuse as to why he was the only one left in the living room when everyone else had long since moved to the kitchen.

Steve’s brow furrowed and his eyes trailed down to the fabric of the seat. His eyebrows raised and nononono fuck no.

“Is that-?”

“Steve I can explain I-“

“Don’t move, okay?” said Steve gently. “Just stay there,”

“What?”

“Everybody out,” Steve yelled, walking back to the kitchen. “Someone broke a vase, no second chances, everybody out!”

Eddie watched as the rest of the party goers quickly vacated the house. Steve’s parents were famous for flying off the handle if something got so much as scratched after Steve had friends over, so no one wanted to hang around to get the blame pinned on them.

People shot glances through the living room door at Eddie as they left. Some laughed, some gave looks of sympathy. They all assumed he was the one who broke the non-existant vase.

When everyone was gone, Steve returned to the living room. He was holding a damp towel in one hand and a pair of shorts in the other. He took a small package out of his pocket and handed it to Eddie.

“Dunno if you can use it though, I know some people don’t like them… Robin leaves a stash here so thats all I have, sorry,”

Eddie stared at the tampon in his hand.

“You can change in the bathroom, I’ll wash your stuff for you,” said Steve, holding out the other items for Eddie to take. “You were planning on staying over with everyone else after the party, right?”

Eddie nodded, dumbfounded and still sitting on the wet seat.

“Cool, there’ll be time for it to dry overnight too then,” said Steve, stepping back so Eddie could stand. “There’s still a ton of pizza in the kitchen. Wanna watch a movie?”

Steve waited expectantly for Eddie to answer, his expression open and light. Eddie wasn’t sure what to do, or say.

“Yeah, uh, I guess?” he said after a pause. “I can just go though, you don’t need to like, do anything for me. I think I ruined your party, right?”

Steve scoffed.

“Ten people who were only here for free beer doesn’t exactly scream best friday night ever,” said Steve. “Eating pizza in peace with a movie sounds way better,”

Eddie clutched the wet towel and shorts. He and Steve were barely friends. Their social circles overlapped in certain places. Met a few times on campus, flirted at the bar, almost kissed one night before Eddie pulled away, too afraid of what might happen if he didn’t.

“We should probably watch it in the other room though,” added Steve, teasing gently.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie rushed to say. “I didn’t mean to… I’ll pay for it to be cleaned I swear,”

Steve waved a hand.

“I’ll tell my parents I had a nosebleed, it’s fine,” said Steve easily. “Go change, I’ll be in the kitchen,”

Eddie hesitated.

“Why are you being so nice about this?” he asked quietly.

Steve just shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Steve airily. “I mean it, people get periods, doesn’t bother me. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it,”

Eddie bit his lip, his eyes threatening him with tears again.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, holding in a sob.

“No problem, man,” said Steve with another shrug.

Eddie started to make his way towards the bathroom as Steve returned to the kitchen.

“Oh, Eddie?” called Steve. Eddie turned and seen him standing with his hands in his back pockets. “Is it… Is it cool if I keep flirting with you though?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“You can say no!” Steve hurried to add. “Totally okay if you do, nothing’s changed, pizza and a movie are still like, totally happening, just wanted to ask,”

Eddie couldn’t help but let a small smile break out.

“You can do that,” said Eddie shyly.

“Cool, cool,” said Steve, rocking onto his heels. “I was, hah, I was kind of planning on trying to kiss you tonight too, you know, since we didn’t at the bar that time, but uh, if you don’t want that either then-“

“You can do that too,” said Eddie, cutting him off. “If you’re, you know, cool about… everything…”

Steve’s smile grew wider.

“Cool,” repeated Steve.

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Text

When Eddie’s terrified, he feels cold—and it’s not a mild thing, not just goosebumps on his arms. It’s violent shivers: his breath catching as ice forms in his lungs, crystallising up his throat until he can barely talk.

It was bad at the middle school talent show: stuck in the wings with fellow students pressed up against him, all jostling for space. He should’ve been sweating.

And technically he was, but it was as if his brain hadn’t checked in with his body or maybe the other way round, and he kept biting down hard on his tongue as his teeth chattered.

A teacher noticed and even asked if he was feeling sick, if he wanted to be sent home.

He shook his head, felt his legs shaking; Jeff had to speak for him until it was finally the band’s turn on stage, and the ice thankfully thawed enough for him to sing.

But right now he thinks the ice is here to stay.

He’s sat back in the boat, the tarp tangled up by his feet; he can’t stop one knee from bouncing up and down erratically. He knows he isn’t really shaking because of the literal cold, but it doesn’t exactly help that it’s damp as hell in here.

He’s not alone—he’s still surrounded by quite possibly the most random group of people in history. Dustin’s leading the conversation, which has devolved into Max teasing him about some girl called Suzie.

Eddie suspects the change of tone is deliberate, that these kids who are somehow well-versed in a literal fucking war have an admirable intuition; have sensed that he needs a cool down after learning about an evil alternate dimension. Kinda like what he does if he watches a horror movie late at night—makes sure to read some light-hearted crap before he goes to sleep, so the scary shit isn’t the last thing on his mind.

Eddie appreciates the thought. If he wasn’t still repressing shivers, he might even find it sweet.

But the chatter isn’t helping.

He can’t grab a hold of it, the sounds slipping away before he can make sense of them; his mind keeps drifting away, and he’s suddenly stuck on the thought that he can’t remember what Chrissy’s last words to him were. He can hardly even recall what her laugh sounded like in the woods—like everything about her has been trapped underwater, stifled beyond all recognition.

He let her die, and he can’t even manage the decency of remembering her. What the fuck is wrong with him?

He exhales shakily. Neither Max or Dustin seem to notice, which both relieves him and sets his teeth on edge.

His lungs are tight, but he still feels a sudden urge to talk—for once wishes that he’d just bite his tongue instead.

Something’s cracking deep inside him.

He’d thought his breaking point had been reached long ago, but it keeps getting worse; as the kids talk, he can’t avoid the fact that they’ve already watched him profoundly lose it, and shame spreads from the pit of his stomach—merges with the ice, culminating in a bitter wave of self-loathing.

Leave me alone, he desperately wants to say, but he knows it’ll just come out in a scream, knows it’ll sound like he’s furious. That’s always been the way of things, at least for him: deep-seated fear hiding underneath anger.

He opens his mouth. His teeth are clacking together.

He manages to temper the feeling right at the brink so that all he says is, “D-don’t you assholes have a bed time?”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Dustin says, over the sound of Max scoffing.

Please go, just fucking go, I’m gonna fall apart and I don’t want you to see it, not again.

“Yeah, well I have a bedtime, so let’s get outta here, dickheads,” Steve says.

He sounds dry, borderline snippy. But his eyes fleetingly meet Eddie’s as he speaks, like he’s heard him somehow. Like he understands.

Dustin stands with some customary grumbling, pulling Max up with him.

“Night, Eddie. It’ll be okay,” he says, so optimistic—with an unshakeable courage that Eddie has never once possessed.

Eddie attempts a smile. Has no idea if he succeeds.

Robin’s already standing, walking off behind Dustin and Max—but then she spins, doubles back on herself; Eddie jumps at the sudden movement.

“Water!” she says, “I’ve got some in the car, you should—hang on, Eddie.”

“I’m—I’m fine, I don’t need…” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, fades out on him. He coughs, tries again, slightly louder, “I said I don’t need it!”

But Robin’s already too far away to hear him.

The quiet rustle of a jacket: Steve is still here.

Eddie lunges forward as quick as he can. His hand clasps around Steve’s wrist.

“Harrington, seriously, tell her not to bother, man. I’ll—” He swallows. “I’ll just throw it back up.”

It’s almost too dark to see, but Eddie swears Steve’s eyes are flickering over his face. He doesn’t know what he’s seeing. Doesn’t think he wants to know the answer.

“Dude, you need to drink, at least,” Steve says finally. He gently tugs himself free—stepping back with an apologetic air, slowly enough that Eddie doesn’t startle. “Gimme a sec.”

He’s back in under a minute, passing Eddie a bottle of water with the cap already off.

Eddie drinks. Despite his protesting, he knows it’s for the best; his head is pounding. He spills the water more than once; his hand is trembling.

Steve doesn’t mention it.

“I can get you some food,” he says.

Eddie shakes his head. “I ate before. Not hungry.”

He’s telling the truth, although he can’t remember what he ate. Can’t remember much of anything.

Steve doesn’t look very happy with that response. His frown is audible when he asks, “Don’t you have a blanket or something?”

Eddie laughs, horribly false. “Why, Harrington? Wanna tuck me in?”

Steve doesn’t answer.

Eddie wants him to retaliate with what he deserves: cutting words. Wants Steve to throw out something cruel, then leave him be.

No. That’s not…

He wants… he wants…

“Don’t move,” Steve says. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie laughs again—a little more genuine. “Can’t exactly go anywhere.”

He doesn’t know how long Steve takes. He loses track of time after the sound of the car reversing fades away; the darkness stretches out before him, and his fingers flex, tremulous, and he almost starts to believe that no-one’s found him after all, that he’s alone, that he’ll always be—

The soft crunch of tires rolling over gravel. The twin clunks of a car door being opened then closed, not too loudly, followed by even footsteps. Slow. Safe. And Eddie hears Steve singing, quiet enough that he can’t really decipher the lyrics.

He doesn’t know why he recognises it, why it’s so familiar. But he understands why Steve is doing it, the realisation burning in his throat: that Steve is signalling his approach, so Eddie knows it’s him.

“Hey,” Steve says, and there’s a gentle kind of thud—something being dropped by Eddie’s feet. Then the soft press of fabric behind him: a pillow.

Eddie manages to shift his feet a bit. More fabric. It’s a blanket.

“I just thought, like, two layers, y’know?” Steve is saying. “Not ideal with the tarp, but it should trap more heat compared to…” Eddie’s throat tightens even more. It’s so… so fucking kind.

“Thanks,” he manages.

“Hey,” Steve says again, softer—a hand lands on Eddie’s knee; his palm is warm. “You’re okay.”

Eddie realises belatedly that he’s crying again. For a little while, it just feels automatic, as if he’s detached from the tears; Steve gives him space, working around him.

And Steve’s not tucking him in really, just sort of shaking out the blanket, but he lets it fall with intention—smoothes out the creases when it gathers around Eddie’s knees.

Eddie doesn’t know what changes, just knows that he’s abruptly aware of the silent tears building into something more. There’s a false jagged sensation of something getting caught in his chest as he swallows, and he gasps, inhales sharply—once, twice; feels that panicked stutter to his breath, like when he was a kid failing at treading water.

Steve crouches by the side of the boat.

“You’re okay,” he repeats. He’s rubbing his throat ever so slightly while he says it—doesn’t seem aware that he’s doing it.

“I’m s—” Eddie chokes on the words again, a distressed hum cutting through instead. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Eddie, it’s—”

Eddie points to Steve’s throat. “C-could’ve—mm, mm. Could’ve been bad.”

He remembers the feeling of Steve’s skin against the shard of glass, remembers his stupid shaking hands—so close, too close to blood being spilled.

Just a hair’s breadth away from…

It could’ve happened so easily. Two deaths on his conscience.

“Eddie,” Steve says calmly. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t have let you.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a reassurance.

His hand falls away from his neck, as if making a point.

Eddie stares and stares—and it’s definitely too dark to tell if there’s a bead of blood on Steve’s skin, but his mind does the work for him.

Vivid, wet. It wouldn’t stop. Chrissy. Her eyes…

The ice freezes over completely, stops up his throat.

Eddie can’t breathe.

“Yeah, you can,” someone’s saying, “hey, it’s gonna pass, it’s gonna pass, okay? I’m just gonna…”

A snap.

Eddie flinches, cries out with a wordless noise of anguish.

Through the roaring in his ears, he hears, “Shit,” before a contrite whisper of, “Sorry, sorry.”

Steve. Steve’s here, guiding his hands until they’re cupped around something.

Something warm.

It starts the thaw, draws air back into Eddie’s lungs. His head clears a little. He knows where he is. Wishes he wasn’t…

He wants someone to tell him that Chrissy didn’t suffer, that she didn’t feel anything.

No.

He wants someone to wake him up, to tell him it was just a nightmare, that he can go home; he wants the universe to rearrange itself so that Chrissy never even met him—that the only trouble she ever has to deal with is which shoes to wear with her graduation robes.

“I want,” he gets out, “I want—”

“I know,” Steve says.

His hands are still wrapped around Eddie’s.

And Eddie senses the source of the heat now, a packet of some kind.

A hand-warmer.

He manages to take a proper breath, deep enough that he can smell the pillow Steve has given him; it doesn’t smell of the detergent Wayne uses, but it smells like a home at least. The dip in the middle makes him suspect that Steve’s brought the pillow from his own bed.

Eddie breathes in again. Out.

“There you go,” Steve murmurs.

Gradually the warmth against Eddie’s palms brings about a repeatedly suppressed, bone-deep tiredness. His eyes are stinging with it, and he feels like the boat’s been pushed out onto the lake; he sways forward without meaning to.

“Sorry,” he says, tongue thick.

He lifts his head to find Steve looking at him intently, brow furrowed.

“You should lie down,” Steve says quietly. “You look exhausted.”

Eddie does, turns onto his side so he can still just about see over the side of the boat. But…

“I won’t sleep,” he tells Steve through a sigh. He’s not arguing the point; it just seems inevitable.

Steve shrugs. “Just shutting your eyes is better than nothing,” he says casually enough, but it sounds too knowing, like he’s speaking from experience.

Eddie wonders what Steve sees when he falls asleep.

Steve stands up slowly. Hesitant.

“I’m—um. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’d stay, believe me, but I just—I don’t want the car here too long in case someone…”

“Go, Harrington,” Eddie says, hopes it comes out as gentle as he means it to be. “You’re the taxi service.”

Steve smiles. “We’ll be back,” he says. “Tomorrow, okay? I promise. We’ll bring food.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie echoes. Tries and fails to push down a yawn. “Food.”

It’s not so bad, listening to Steve walking away. Eddie’s eyes close, burn with relief; in his head he follows along with the sound of Steve’s footsteps as they get more and more distant.

Car door opening. Closing. Seems farther away than before. His head is heavy.

He doesn’t expect to fall asleep. But he does his best to keep his thoughts on something light anyway. Maybe the continual warmth between his hands helps, ensures he doesn’t spiral back down to… to…

It comes to him fuzzily: why he recognised Steve singing in the first place.

Last summer, going to the mall to catch a movie, walking past an ice-cream parlor and hearing…

It was an unselfconscious kind of singing—no tension in the high notes. The sort usually done alone.

And do you feel scared? I do. But I won't stop and falter.

Eddie glanced over. Steve had been mopping, head down, but he looked up suddenly—for a moment, Eddie worried that he had been spotted. But then he watched the surreal sight of a group of children walking all over the wet floor, Steve beckoning them onward with fond exasperation.

He tapped at his wrist. “You’re cutting it fine tonight. Through the back, round the—”

“We know,” came an already distant chorus.

Steve rolled his eyes.

“And if anyone hears about this—”

“We’re dead!”

A door shut—alone again, Steve shook his head to himself. Smiled.

And if we threw it all away. Things can only get better.

Eddie remembers thinking that his voice wasn’t all that bad. It was nice.

It was…

Eddie wakes up warm.

The sight of the tarp disorients him for a few seconds—but he’s too sleepy to be panicked. The blanket against his jeans feels perfectly heavy. Keeps him still. Keeps him…

He thinks he must unintentionally drift off again; when he comes to, he feels that the hand-warmer he’s holding has gone cold. His feet knock against something, and he opens his eyes enough to see that Steve’s left more pouches. He takes one, hums when he cracks it so he doesn’t hear the…

It’s another day. He’s still here, damp wood against his back. A pillow beneath his head.

He knows the nightmare hasn’t stopped; Chrissy is still dead.

But there’s things he can touch, hold onto—evidence that he’s not been left alone, not really. He knows that Steve will come back. They all will.

His hands are warm.

And that’s something.

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Text

some hurt/comfort cuddles for @scoops-stevie. because you deserve nice things and cuddles

Steve feels endlessly pathetic pulling up to the Munson trailer with a hammering heart at two in the morning, feeling like he has nowhere else in the world to go. It’s a lie. He knows it’s not true, knows that his brain is lying to him, knows that his thoughts got all tangled up and messy somewhere between noon and midday, knows that all he has to do is breathe through it and just get this day over with.

But he can’t breathe. And he can’t sleep. And he—

He needs a hug. He needs Eddie and his stupid, sweet, lovely koala hugs with his goddamn hair all up in Steve’s face. He needs it so badly that he can’t wait until tomorrow — and now here he is, pulling up to the trailer.

He gasps a little in the silence of the car when he spots a familiar figure sitting on the front steps, a blanket around his shoulders and a cigarette in his hand. Tears spring to his eyes — pathetic little tears that he refuses to allow right now, so he blinks them away. But the longer he looks at Eddie sitting right there, looking up at the approaching car with a smile that’s slowly growing, the more he feels ready to fall apart. And he will, if he’s not held together.

And Eddie is so good at holding him together. Steve needs him close; can’t wait even a second longer.

Steve cuts the engine and is out of the car in one swift move, walking over to wonderful, beautiful Eddie who is gloriously, miraculously awake.

His quick steps on the gravel match the loud, rapid beating of his heart, and then Eddie is getting up, closing the distance between them just as fast, until they’re crashing together in a tangle of arms and a gentle hand on the back of his head that’s pulling him close, close, closer.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie breathes into his cheek, his temple, his hair, and Steve wants to melt into him. Wants to cry now that the world smells like Eddie again, feels like Eddie again; now that the world is Eddie again. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head where it’s still hidden in the crook of Eddie’s neck, his hands clenching in the soft, worn shirt he’s wearing to sleep. He wants to say, No, not really. Wants to say, It’s stupid. I was just lonely for a little too long. Missed you. Missed you, missed you, missed you.

But he can’t say anything. The words get lodged in his throat and the thought of speaking makes the world feel so overwhelming again, makes him feel like a failure and a fuck-up and all those things his mind tells him that he is on nights like this.

Things that he knows he isn’t. He knows! But knowledge doesn’t protect him on nights like this.

What protects him is the way Eddie sways them gently this way and that, silent in his own right — humming slightly to give Steve something to focus on. It makes his eyes sting again, so he burrow’s further into his love’s neck.

“I’ve got you. Was waiting for you, you know? Had a feeling. Just a feeling, Stevie. So glad you came.”

It’s good. It’s good he’s here. Eddie is glad. Eddie doesn’t judge him or hate him or think he’s too much, think he’s pathetic, think he should talk and explain and be as strong as they both know he can be.

Steve takes a deep breath, inhaling Eddie’s scent, his shampoo, his aftershave, the cigarette smoke and the laundry detergent. It settles him, and he can practically feel his frayed mind smoothing out, can feel his racing heart slow down, can feel his hands unclench from Eddie’s shirt as he breathes like he couldn’t all day and all night.

Once he’s calm enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s about to snap and break and crumble any second now, he slowly lifts his face and meets Eddie’s eyes. Even in the dark, illuminated only by the street lights and scarcely lit porch lamps, he looks so kind. So patient. So genuine.

So, so lovely.

“Hi,” he breathes, carding a hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve feels like a fragile little thing again — but gentler this time, because he knows Eddie is holding him. Because he knows Eddie won’t let go.

“Hi,” he croaks, wanting to try again with the words. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right. Maybe tonight isn’t for talking then.

“Do you wanna come inside? Stay the night with me? I’d hate to let you go now that I have you, Stevie. How’s that sound?”

He nods before Eddie even finished the first question, watching the smile unfold on his face until it’s full and wide, his hand not stopping its motions through Steve’s hair.

“Come on in, then, beautiful.”

Eddie leads him by the hand, leads him inside, entirely unwilling to let Steve go. He guides him through the dark trailer that Steve knows so well by now and doesn’t let go of his hand even as he makes him sit on the bed.

Steve looks up at him as Eddie steps between his legs and holds him close again, knowing that Steve loves this position. He can hear Eddie’s heart beating like this, can wrap his arms around him completely and just hold on forever and ever as Eddie plays with his hair.

“You’re pretty,” Eddie murmurs then. “And smart. And kind. And I’m incredibly lucky to have you here with me, Stevie. Do you know that?”

He does. It’s not why he’s here. It’s not why he can’t talk tonight. He just… He just needs Eddie.

So he doesn’t react, which is a language they have made for nights like this, and instead holds on even tighter around Eddie’s middle and leans back, falling onto his back on the bed and pulling a laughing Eddie with him, who gets the memo instantly and wraps his entire body around Steve.

The grounding weight of Eddie on top of him is what makes a few of the silent tears fall, because he gets to have this now. Because it’s okay. It’s good. Eddie loves him. He’s not a fuck-up.

Eddie brushes a kiss to his forehead, his nose, his cheek, and holds him. Tells him good things in a soothing tone sometimes that go right over Steve’s head because he’s busy losing himself in the steady beat of Eddie’s heart, the rise and fall of his chest that he’s now resting his cheek on, with Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. He’s focused on the vibrations of his voice that carry through his whole body and right into Steve’s. It’s a magical feeling that he wants to chase, so he trails his fingers down from Eddie’s adam’s apple to the middle of his chest, and up again, every time he talks. It makes Eddie laugh, makes him shiver, makes him brush more kisses to Steve’s forehead.

Quiet cuddles in the dark of Eddie’s room allow Steve to breathe again even as he buries his nose in Eddie’s neck, almost smothering himself just to make him laugh again, call him ridiculous, and tell him, “I love you.”

Steve smiles until he falls asleep still half on top of Eddie, who promises not to let him go. And he doesn’t. He won’t.

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Note

U …on a place of insecurity for steddie? 👀

Hi, and thank you! This got a little bit out of control, :D

The scars don't bother Eddie. They're not the first ones he's gotten; they won't be the last. He mourns the ragged bites missing from some of his tattoos, but he can always get new ones. And all things considered, as far as body art goes, it's hard to get more metal than a bunch of scars from being nearly torn apart by supernatural monsters.

Like. Metal as fuck.

It doesn't occur to him for a long time that Steve might feel differently. Part of it, at least for a while, is a case of embarrassing hero-worship that was probably inevitable after the guy slung him over his shoulders and carried him out of the underworld. Part of it is that Steve has a better poker face than Eddie anticipated, and a lot of experience at shoving down the stuff that bothers him so that he can keep moving.

So it takes him a while to notice that Steve wears collared shirts all the time now, scarves in the winter, turtlenecks that make him look like some kind of artsy hipster that he definitely is not.

The scar on his throat fades from vivid purple to pink, but it still shows up when he tans, which Eddie knows because Robin (and, okay, the judicious application of Eddie's best weed) has convinced Steve to pull off his shirt and join them in the lake on this particular late-August day when they are, for once, not babysitting a pack of children.

"Come on," Steve complains, but he seems looser now, easier in his own skin than he usually is these days.

"Come on," Robin mimics. "Or I'm going to push you in with your clothes on."

"I'd like to see you try," Steve mutters, but he peels his polo shirt up and off over his head and tosses it behind him on the dock. There's miles upon miles of gorgeous skin, dotted with freckles and moles, and—yeah, a whole bunch of scars. Most of them are similar to Eddie's: torn skin stitched back together, the ragged lines of grafts and stretch marks that the doctor assured him would fade with time, as if he gives a shit. Eddie's are worse, but Steve still has the look of a patchwork doll clumsily stitched back together in some places. The line around his throat makes Eddie wince, though. It looks like someone tried to hang him; it reminds him too vividly of that moment in the Upside Down. Steve on his back, trapped and struggling and slowly strangling as he was eaten alive.

Steve glances at him. His shoulders hunch, almost imperceptibly, and then he shakes his head and dives smoothly into the water, taking long enough to surface that Eddie considers panicking about it.

Then Steve's sleek head breaks the surface. Robin splashes him, and he blows a fountain of water at her, and then Eddie gets in on it and it rapidly turns into a free-for-all before they all finally retreat back to shore, exhausted, and Steve pulls his shirt back on without even waiting to dry off.

They don't talk about it, not then. But Eddie spends the rest of the day thinking about it, and the rest of the following day, and then it's a week later and he's making out with Steve on the couch at his new trailer, which has probably been a long time coming, to be honest.

Steve's an unsurprisingly good kisser, and he seems perfectly enthusiastic about Eddie's wandering hands, laughing under his breath and hauling Eddie in until he's straddling him. Eddie laughs, delighted, and kisses him again. It's all going fucking great until his fingers brush the edges of the scar that winds up to a narrow terminus under Steve's jaw.

He feels it when Steve goes still, and doesn't realize why for a moment. Then he remembers.

"Should I not—"

"Sorry," Steve says immediately, and drops his head back against the couch, wincing. Eddie shifts his weight, wondering if he should move. But Steve's hands are still on his thighs, and he doesn't seem like he's about to shove Eddie off.

"Nah, man, it's okay. I get it, trust me. If you want me to be like" —he lifts both hands, palm out, demonstrating— "you know, hands off about the battle scars kinda thing…"

Steve makes a face, half a wince. "You noticed that, huh."

"I notice a lot of things about you," Eddie says honestly.

"Sorry."

"Like, I totally get it—I mean, not totally, obviously, but I'm not gonna do something if it freaks you out."

Steve sighs. "It doesn't freak me out. They're just—I don't know. Fucking ugly."

"They're not," Eddie says immediately.

Silence for a moment. Then Steve says, "I'm sorry. That was a dick thing to say."

"Oh, what, you mean because we got matching body art now?" Eddie asks.

"I mean. Yeah."

"Doesn't bother me. They're metal as fuck."

Steve smiles a little. And it's wanting to keep that smile, maybe, that has Eddie sitting back across his thighs to pull his shirt off and toss it aside, leaving him on display—scars and all. Steve's breath catches a little, but the look on his face isn't freaked out; instead, it's soft and wondering. "Can I—?"

"By all means knock yourself out," Eddie says, and then Steve's warm hands are smoothing lightly up his sides, over the patchy scar tissue. It still feels weird—oversensitive in some places, numb in others—but something about the way Steve is touching him right now feels reverent, almost. Then he leans forward to press a careful kiss to the worst of them, a big ragged shiny patch spanning the front and top of Eddie's left shoulder. Eddie shudders; Steve sighs against his skin.

"You like that," he says.

"I'm gonna be totally honest with you, I'll probably like just about anything you want to do right now."

Steve huffs out a laugh, ducking his head, and leans up to kiss Eddie's mouth again. Then he leans back and peels his shirt off too, a quick movement that almost ends in him elbowing Eddie in the face.

He's gorgeous like this, all freckled skin and sturdy muscles. And yeah, the scars—it's not that Eddie doesn't get Steve's deal with them. They're a physical reminder of the pain, of all the shit they went through, and they're the kind of thing that most people would probably have questions about, even if that question was just holy shit what happened, did it hurt?

Eddie was there, though. He knows.

"You can touch me," Steve says after a moment, during which Eddie seriously contemplates sitting on his hands to keep from doing exactly that. "If you want."

"Oh, thank god," Eddie says, all in a rush, and Steve starts laughing, the tension between them breaking.

Or not breaking, he thinks, as he slides a careful hand up Steve's scarred chest, lightly flicking a nipple as he goes and watching the quick intake of breath that nets him. Not breaking, just changing shape. Becoming sweeter. He keeps touching Steve, slow and careful, and feels Steve's tense body loosen beneath him just as slowly. Only then does he lean forward to press his mouth to the side of Steve's throat, where the scar is thickest.

Steve's breath catches again. Eddie stills.

"This okay?" he asks. His lips don't leave Steve's skin, so he can feel the way that Steve swallows before he nods.

"Yeah," he whispers. "It's okay."

Eddie kisses him again, closed-mouthed and lingering and as sweet as he can make it.

"Just means we survived," he whispers. "All this shit just means we made it. We're still here."

"Yeah," Steve whispers again. He tilts his head back, baring his throat to Eddie's mouth, and shudders when he kisses him there again. "I'm really glad we're still here."

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4nemo1egend · 10 months

Text

Steve always gets that look about him when he looks up at the stars. Doesn’t matter if they’re walking in the dark and he looks up instead of where he’s going, trusting that Eddie will watch where they’re going, or if he’s sitting down, his back against a wall or a pole or the backrest of a chair, one knee pulled to his chest, his eyes cast upwards.

There’s something about stargazing Steve that just takes Eddie’s breath away and replaces it with words that get stuck in his throat. Words like, You’re so beautiful. Like, What do you see? What do you think? What’s happening inside that brilliant, brilliant head of yours?

It always makes him feel like Steve is in on some secret of the universe that no one but him will ever be privy to, and it leaves him with a racing heart and a tingling sensation in his hands where he thinks about reaching for Steve’s and finding out about all those words he never says.

Especially at night.

Eddie fell in love with Steve at night. Over the course of many walks in the dark, strolls around Hawkins because they both just needed to move, get away for a while, chase the sensation of running away together. Eddie fell in love with the line of Steve’s jaw and the smile on his lips, the reflection of the moon in those dark eyes as Steve looked up and looked so calm. So serene. Almost at home, with the stars in his eyes.

Steve doesn’t know, of course. Doesn’t know that he looks outright magical like this, doesn’t know that Eddie‘s watching. Always, always watching. Always wondering, too, and always on the verge of asking. Of touching. Of holding and keeping and—

He swallows heavily as he watches Steve beside him, hands stuffed in his jeans, the cool breeze of the summer air blowing through his hair and leaving goosebumps along his arms that carry constellations of their own. Constellations that Eddie has woven stories around on nights where he couldn’t sleep, nights that Steve spent beside him, covered in the light of street lamps or fairy lights; allowing Eddie to watch. To yearn. To fall.

The night sky above them is clear and the moon is merely a crescent, almost gone completely; and it makes Eddie feel like he’s in some kind of movie. Steve always makes him feel like that, but tonight with the stars above them bringing that look to his face, it’s almost unbearable.

“What is…” he begins, but trails off, not at all planning to speak in the first place, cringing a little at the way he took the tranquility away from Steve, who’s looking over now, blinking his eyes as though he needs a second to come back to reality.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Eddie says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, feeling wrong-footed again. Nervous and frantic when Steve looks so calm. So pretty. So at peace with himself and the world.

“Come on, Ed,” Steve says, lightly bumping his shoulder into Eddie’s without faltering in his steps, and Eddie is sure he stops breathing for a second there with how gentle his voice sounds.

It makes him want to know. Makes him want to find out everything about Steve Harrington and the things that make his mind be what it is.

But how do you ask that? How do you begin to know a person on that level without being painfully obvious about the way you’re absolutely certain that your life wouldn’t be the same without them. That your heart wouldn’t be the same without them. That, in fact, it hasn’t been for a while yet.

“It’s just,” Eddie begins, looking back at Steve before feeling all too caught, because Steve is looking back. Not up. Not away. “You… You always look like that when— Never mind.”

“When what?”

A sigh. It’s Eddie now who looks up, finding familiar constellations that have always remained the same, no matter the shit that happened to him. And they will remain the same even if he fucks this up. If he says the wrong things. They will still be there.

And, strangely, it gives him the perspective and the last little push that he needs.

“When you look up. At the stars, I mean. You always look—“ He gestures wildly at Steve’s face, searching for the words. “Uh. Good.”

A smile breaks over Steve’s face and he bumps his elbow into Eddie’s again — because that’s another thing about Steve under the night sky. He’s always touching Eddie somehow. Always trusting Eddie. With his silence, with the way they’re going, with the things he tells him after a deep, heavy sigh. And he always, always touches Eddie. Only ever briefly, but it’s enough.

It’s everything.

“You think I look good, Munson?”

“Yeah.” And it’s too genuine, too heavy between them, too loaded with truth, with yearning past and present; with everything.

So heavy in fact that it makes Steve slow in his steps until he comes to a stop.

“Tell me?”

Eddie swallows, coming to a stop just a few feet ahead of Steve. “Tell you what?”

“What you— What you wanted to say. About. Uh, about me and the stars.”

Oh, you don’t want that, Eddie almost says.

“It’s stupid,” he whispers instead. “A little. It’s—“

“I wanna hear it, though. Swear I won’t judge.” He smiles at Eddie again, in that simple way he has. That sweet, endlessly endearing smile that has stolen full nights of sleep for months now.

“Stevie,” Eddie rasps, but Steve looks so hopeful now and interrupts him before he can protest.

“I can… Close my eyes? If that’s easier.”

They look at each other for a second, and Eddie is careful not to sound defiant or refusing when he asks, “Why?”

“Because I… I wanna know. I wanna hear it.”

And Eddie can feel the air shift between them with the way Steve us looking at him now. Looking at him in that same way that Eddie has been watching for months now. It’s breathtaking, having that starry eyes gaze resting on him now, boring into him with the fire of a thousand suns, and it only leaves him wanting more.

More, like what’s been happening between them lately. More glances, more touches, more watching.

“Wayne has this thing,” Eddie says before he can think about it, approaching Steve slowly. “He has this— When he needs to talk to me, or thinks there’s something I’m not telling him, we go sit on the couch. Back to back, not looking at each other. And then we talk, and it’s easier.”

He places his hands on Steve’s shoulders and they’re so warm, Eddie never wants to let go. His breath catches when Steve leans into him just a fraction, and his thumb strokes a slow, careful semi-circle along his collar bone. Then, slowly, gently, scared that he might spook or break him, Eddie turns Steve around by his shoulders.

“Okay”

“Okay,” he repeats, and Eddie lets his hands slide away from his shoulders, down to his arms, watching the goosebumps chase his touch, and his heart is racing in his chest.

Then he turns around and leans back against Steve just a little, just enough for their shoulders to touch. It’s Steve who closes the rest of the distance, shuffling closer until their entire backs are pressed to each other.

“Tell me now?” Steve whispers then, and Eddie swallows. He can feel Steve’s heart racing, too, and he wonders if this is happening. If this can mean what it might mean.

He takes a deep breath and accidentally bumps his head into Steve’s. He leaves it there, and Steve doesn’t move away either. It feels so intimate, standing here like this on a side road beside a field that’s moving with the cool summer breeze, with only the stars as their witnesses.

“You, uhm. It’s… It’s a bit like summer nights were made for you. Or, not just summer nights, but those especially. When you look up with your little smile, like everything is right. Like you’re seeing an old friend up there, or a happy memory, and you just… You get, uh, you get this look. Not just in your eyes, but in your whole body. I can’t really— It’s. It’s good. Special. Makes me wanna watch.”

Makes me wanna watch — Jesus, Munson!

He’s looking for the right words, desperately wracking his brain for something to make amends, to make this less awkward, less creepy, less I’m absurdly and entirely in love with you.

“It’s a little bit like you’re in love with the stars,” Eddie says at last, and he closes his eyes, clenching them shut to cast out a world in which Steve would laugh at him and call him stupid, realise he was better off without Eddie’s tendency for dramatic declarations of truth, and abandon him here by the field, all alone with no one to run away with anymore.

But Steve doesn’t push away. Doesn’t laugh, doesn’t taunt him, doesn’t do anything Eddie half expects him to. No. There’s only a little sigh — breathless from the sound of it — and Steve’s warmth leaning into him a little further, seeping even through the heavy leather of his jacket.

“It’s not… It’s not the stars that make me look like that,” he whispers, his head bumping into Eddie’s again, gentler this time.

Eddie frowns. “No?”

Steve shakes his head no, but to Eddie it feels more like a caress, almost intimate in its slow, careful movements.

“No.”

“Oh. Then wh—“

“It’s the person who watches.”

The person who— Oh. Oh.

It makes me wanna watch.

But that means…

“It’s you, Eddie.” It comes out almost as a whisper, a tiny little voice that could be excused as an illusion if Eddie were any less hyper aware of everything about them, of every inch of his body touching Steve’s, sharing his warmth and soaking up his everything.

“You… Do you mean that?” He has to ask. He has to be sure, needs to know that he isn’t dreaming, needs his world to catch up with Steve’s, needs their realities to align so he can reach for Steve’s hand and—

Steve laces their fingers together but still doesn’t move, still leaning into Eddie, still not daring to turn around and face him yet.

“I do.”

And Eddie breathes. He sees. He squeezes and turns and pulls Steve in by his hand to wrap his arms around him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispers into the crook of Steve’s neck, not quite believing yet that he gets to do this. That they’re so close. That Steve is so warm and right there. He swallows, breathing him in. “Me too. Can’t look away.”

“Don’t want you to.” It’s a plea, breathed into his collarbone. It’s a promise, spoken right into his heart.

They hold each other for a while there by the side of the road, the breeze picking up around them, and the treetops whispering their serenity about the two boys they know so well.

Hand in trembling, giddy hand, they walk back to Eddie’s, and Steve doesn’t look up anymore. He looks at Eddie now, with that same expression. With that same smile. And Eddie looks back.

Summer nights are made for Steve Harrington. And Eddie gets to watch now. Gets to hold him, gets to card his hands through his hair and brush the gentlest of kisses to his forehead, his cheek, his lips. Gets to tell him that he loves him under the light of the stars that remain the same.

And Eddie never learns to look away. And Steve never loses his smile.

happy birthday @auroraplume 🤍✨ i wanted to give you a little bit of starlight. thank you for loving me 🌷

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