#steve harrington comfort character

[infinite-orangepeel]

[morganbritton132]

Eddie’s just trying to show off his new guitar picks on his TIkTok account while in the background, this conversation is happening:

Steve: Want some m&ms?

Robin, holding out her hand: When I was a kid, I would assign each of my family members a color of m&m and then eat them in order of who I liked the least to who I liked the most.

Steve: Who did you eat last?

Robin: My cat, Lucy. She was the brown one. I would swallow them whole so I wouldn’t hurt her chewing.

Steve: Makes sense

Steve: What color would I be?

Robin: Blue

Steve: *fist pumps*

[steviesbicrisis]

💫 Steve Harrington's House 💫

So, after this post, I couldn't let go of this house. I decided to rebuild it in The Sims and then I had so much info I felt the need to share it. Other than commenting on some crazy aspects of this mansion, I think it can give some input/ideas for possible scenarios in fanfiction! (for one, I'd like to know what Eddie thinks about half of the features of this house lmao). My process was: canon information > actual house information > gaps I filled the best I could Disclaimer: keep on describing Steve's house however you want to!! I'm sharing this in case you wanna be as close to the actual house as possible!

Listings: Zillow | Trulia | Homemetry

Credits: Sticky notes by rawpixel.com | Washi tapes by rawpixel.com | background paper by starline all on Freepik

[metalhoops]

“I think I’m seeing things, man,” Eddie spoke from his spot on the Harrington’s couch. His white skin appeared paler still against the brown leather. 

Steve didn’t blame him. He was on all kinds of painkillers. It’d been two weeks since the world fell apart. Two weeks since Vecna disappeared. Two weeks since Eddie almost died. 

Steve liked to treat those memories as others treated head-on collisions. It was better not to look at them directly. It was better to treat it like it’d never happened. 

“What’re we looking at?” Steve asked from his spot on the floor, following Eddie’s line of sight to the gap in the curtains. 

“Don’t know. Thought I saw somebody outside,” Eddie confessed. 

The Harrington house had always been filled with spectres, whether that of partygoers, like front lawn flamingos in need of an exorcism or the body in the backyard pool. But those were Steve’s hang-ups, not Eddie’s. 

If all it took to be a ghost was to haunt, Eddie might be included in the ranks of his own private phantasmagoria. He kept checking each night to make sure the boy was really there, that he’d really gotten out. People shouldn’t have that much blood in them, and they definitely shouldn’t have that much blood out of them. 

Steve went to the window because that was something he could do for Eddie. He wasn’t sure why he kept feeling the need to apologise. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but hell if Steve knew if he’d done anything right either. He’d gotten Eddie out of the Upside Down. He’d put his hands inside the boy’s body, shoved his shirt beneath his skin and held it in the dark cavity that oozed and throbbed warm blood like the rise and fall of the tide.

Don’t think about it. Check the window. His hands at his side felt cold. He wondered if they’d ever be warm again. There was a figure across the street. 

A boy in a basketball jersey circled passed the house. 

Things never ended smoothly. Steve liked to think once Jason went down the rest of the vigilante crew would stop looking for Eddie, but there were some stragglers who hadn’t got the message. 

Hopper had his hands full trying to clear Eddie’s name. Eddie’s uncle was still looking for him. The whole town was holding their breath in the midst of destruction, waiting for someone to blame. Steve shut the curtains, turned the lights off and moved to Eddie’s side in the darkness. 

“Hounds of hell still circling then?” Eddie guessed after one glimpse at Steve’s face. 

“I’ll call Hopper,” Steve reasoned, reaching up to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Maybe to make sure he was real. Maybe to tell him he was sorry. 

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Eddie spoke, reaching out and snagging the hem of Steve’s sweater.

“No one thinks I’m here. If the cops show up at the Harringtons’ it’s going to turn some heads,” Eddie reasoned, and he was right.

So where did that leave them? Sitting alone in the dark with Eddie fading in and out of sleep and Steve watching car headlights dance across the curtains, waiting for the moment everything went wrong. 

“Steve?” Eddie breathed beside Steve’s ear in the blackness. He hadn’t realised they were so close. 

“Yeah?” Steve moved his eyes from the window to look at Eddie. 

“I think I’m crashing,” he noted, a grimace dancing across his face. Steve had never felt smaller. 

“Doc said we’ve gotta wait six hours,” Steve replied, hoping he didn’t sound as worried as he felt. 

“How long’s it been?” 

“Three.” 

Steve always wanted to appear cool in times of crisis, but he had no idea what he was doing. Some of the government agents Steve had signed countless NDAs for over the past four years had patched Eddie up as best they could and had started scrambling for a cover-up. 

In the meantime, Eddie would stay at Steve’s place. It made the most sense. Eddie was nobody to Steve. No one would go looking for Eddie at the Harringtons’, and unlike the other older teens, he didn’t have parents to answer to. Big house. No parents. Perfect place to lie low. 

Steve was nobody to Eddie and yet for the past week, they’d been an island unto themselves, trapped indoors together, watching shadows on the walls and trying to keep each other alive and sane. He felt completely unprepared. 

“Alright. Come on. Let’s go to bed,” Steve muttered, kneeling in front of Eddie. He watched the boy rise to a sitting position over his shoulder. Eddie snorted.

“What exactly is the plan here, Steve?” 

Eddie had been stuck oscillating between the living room, kitchen, and downstairs bathroom for days. They could both use a change of scenery. 

“Piggyback,” Steve spoke, trying not to think about the connotations that the word had garnered. He wasn’t going to think about Vecna. Not today. 

He expected the boy to argue, but instead, he felt Eddie’s arms snake around his throat. He held tight, but not as tight as he should. Steve had to hold on to his forearms like backpack straps as he stood. Eddie’s legs were stronger. They held firm around Steve’s waist. 

Eddie’s head flopped against Steve’s shoulder blade, nuzzling into the space. He was warm as the sun. Too warm. He was running a temperature. Steve tried not to think of the last time he carried Eddie. The boy was uncharacteristically quiet. Steve needed to do something. 

“Saddle up, buckeroo,” Steve spoke, hoisting Eddie further up his back. He felt a puff of air against his neck, a barely there laugh. 

“Hi-yo, Silver,” Eddie grumbled against Steve’s skin. 

Steve moved deftly through the dark, taking the staircase slowly and methodically. The last thing either of them needed was another broken bone. 

“I think I owe you one once all this is over,” Eddie noted. Steve was already shaking his head.

“You stick around, and I’ll call it a favour. I think Henderson would kick my ass if you died.” 

“The kid’s got spunk. I’ll give him that,” Eddie noted as the two reached the top of the stairs. 

“He’s got an attitude and a problem with authority,” Steve corrected, taking Eddie to his bedroom.

He moved to the edge of his bed and let Eddie extract himself. When they broke apart, Steve felt cold again. 

“That’s our boy,” Eddie chuckled, shooting Steve a lopsided smirk. He was definitely still high on painkillers.

Steve rolled his eyes and helped lower Eddie down onto his favourite pillow, the one worn down with age but all the more comfortable for it. He pulled the covers up around the boy’s shoulders.

“Yeah, our boy,” Steve echoed in a too-fond tone. 

He’d never let Henderson hear the term of affection. The kid had a big enough head as it was, but in the too-quiet world of just himself and Eddie, he felt okay admitting it. Once it looked like Eddie was settled in, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, feeling as he always did, like a stranger in his own home. 

“When did you last get some shut-eye, boy wonder?” Eddie asked, his foot tucking beneath Steve’s thigh.  

Friday. What day was it? Sunday. Not good. 

“Well, come on then, don’t make a guy beg. Lay down, Steve. It’s your bed. I could sleep in the spare room if it’s a problem.” There was something cautious about the offer Steve didn’t understand. 

He flopped down beside Eddie, so close the two shared a pillow. It changed the shape of the thing. It made the familiar strange. 

“You know, I had this dream last night,” Eddie began, his dark eyes still open, glued to the ceiling. He cringed, knowing all the ways dreams could go bad, but Eddie shook his head.

“Not that kind of dream,” He insisted, his hands balling into fists on the bedsheets. 

“I had a dream I was a pinball machine,” the boy stated plainly. The absurdity of the statement shocked a laugh out of Steve. 

“These painkillers are legit, Harrington,” Eddie spoke, shooting Steve a sidelong glance. 

“What kind of pinball machine?” 

“You know the Centaur one? It’s black and white, mostly. The arts got this topless guy who’s half man, half motorbike,” Eddie explained. 

Steve had no idea what he was saying, but it was nice to hear him talk. 

“Wait, if you were the pinball machine, how did you know what you looked like?” 

“Great question Steven. I’ve got no clue. Dream logic,” Eddie reasoned.  

Steve screwed up his nose at the use of his full name. Only his dad called him Steven. Eddie raised a brow, seeming to take note. One of them had shifted closer. Steve wasn’t sure who. Eddie’s hand brushed against his side as he played with the sheets. 

“Remind me again why I needed to know about your pinball dream?” Steve asked. The sound of the wind in the trees outside his bedroom window set his teeth on edge. 

“Because you’re too damn serious and I thought it’d make you smile... Which it did.” Eddie added the last part in quietly and Steve rolled his eyes. 

Eddie craned his head to look around Steve’s room before screwing up his nose. 

“Anyone ever told you your wallpaper is gaudy as hell? Your curtains match your walls. Dude, I thought rich people were meant to have taste,” he observed, the boys’ shoulders pressed together. 

“This coming from the guy who eats cereal out of the box with his hands,” Steve countered, no heat in his voice. 

“Are you still mad I used to stand on your lunch table?” Eddie muttered, shoving Steve’s shoulder before tensing. When had Steve last checked his dressings? 

He flipped the bedside lamp on, leaning over Eddie to do so. He’d been helping the guy shower for days now. Privacy was a word reserved for other people. Intimacy was a necessity.  

“Once you stood in my mashed potatoes. It was disgusting,” Steve uttered, gently peeling up the hem of Eddie’s tee shirt. Really, it was Steve’s, but it seemed strange to make distinctions. 

Eddie’s eyes trailed down to Steve’s fingers, half-hooded and slowed with sleep or inebriation, Steve didn’t know which. He wondered how much of all this Eddie would remember when he got better. He would get better. 

“You never ate the potatoes. You’d bring your stupid bagels from home,” Eddie remarked, as Steve carefully unwound the bandage and gauze. It was stained brown with dried blood, but it looked better than it’d been a few days before, no longer as red or swollen.   

The bagel comment made Steve look up. Seemed like Robin wasn’t the only one that’d been watching him. Maybe Eddie had a crush on Tammy Thompson, too. Maybe it was something else. Steve’s friends had crappy taste in women. Eddie could do better. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Eddie questioned, noticing Steve’s sudden silence. 

He cleaned the wounds as best he could. Eddie’s fingers had found their way to Steve’s thigh, gripping so tight he thought it would bruise. It would be another to add to the collection. Steve hadn’t been thinking of how his battle wounds were healing. He was in triage mode. Eddie’s wounds were worse than his. 

“We're going to have to amputate,” Steve deadpanned as he found the first aid kit he’d hidden beneath his bed years before, starting to redress the wound. 

“How the hell can you amputate a side?” Eddie asked with a shaky laugh, his breathing more ragged again. 

“Well, you see, there’s this new experimental procedure that lets you transplant your brain into a pinball machine,” Steve began and felt Eddie’s elbow in his side. 

“Screw you.” 

Steve laid back beside Eddie, less space between them than before, if it was at all possible. They braced against each other, the contact grounding Steve. Eddie was alive. He was alive. Maybe one day they could look at each other and not think about death. That day wasn’t today, but Steve could hope for it. 

As Eddie drifted to sleep, his head fell on Steve’s shoulder. He wouldn’t sleep for long that night, but he was used to that. He knew the weeks and months after a run-in with the Upside Down were full of fitful sleep and nightmares, but they never lasted. 

On a long enough timeline, you could get used to anything. It was strange how short that timeline was when it came to getting used to Eddie. 

More days came and went with the same imperfect routines. The two boys woke at all hours of the night and spent the daylight hours behind closed curtains, trying to heal. 

By the third day, Steve got sick of the quiet. A sombre mood hung over them, shifting and changing like the phases of the moon. It never entirely disappeared, but there were moments it seemed almost absent.  

One of these such moments arose when Steve hijacked the boombox from the living room and dragged it upstairs to his bedroom, where a slowly healing Eddie sat bored out of his mind, aching and itchy. Steve knew the feeling. The wound on his neck had scabbed and begun to fade into a scar. 

“Hey, Munson?” Steve spoke, sitting beside Eddie, spreading his tape collection between them. 

“You wanna hear some real music?” He asked, watching Eddie’s nose scrunch and his teeth worry away at his bottom lip.

“These are all horrible, Harrington.” 

Eddie turned over several cassettes in his hand, treating them gently as though they were something special.  

“You have every WHAM! album, dude. The Outfield. Halls & Oats. Tears for Fears,” Eddie listed off, his tone one of disgust. 

“You’re going to have to pick something, or I’ll pick WHAM! out of spite.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and shuffled through the tapes, tossing one Steve’s way. 

“Bowie isn’t horrible,” Eddie mumbled as Steve placed The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, into the player. 

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, as always, listening to the quiet swell of drums. Steve realised too late it was a song about the end of the world. He realised, later still, that it was a love song. Eddie’s fingers drummed against his knee. Steve tried to ignore the way the action made his heart swell. 

Steve couldn’t sit still any longer as Moonaged Daydream began. He remembered another life in Nancy Wheeler’s garage, asking her to pretend things were normal for a couple of hours. God, he wanted that. He needed a few normal hours.

He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, but parts of him had stayed the same. He didn’t know how to change them. Nancy Wheeler faced problems head-on, but Steve? The passage of time had taught him how to stand his ground in the face of danger, but he hadn’t yet learned how to stop being chased. 

He caught Eddie’s eye and watched as a wicked grin spread across his face. Without words, he knew exactly what Steve was about to do. He grabbed the nail bat he kept by the bed, the same one from the Wheeler’s garage and sang, using the gnarly weapon as his makeshift microphone. He was a little too loud and a little off-tune.  He sang about alligators and space invaders, lyrics he knew off by heart, without understanding them.

He watched as a grin threatened to crack Eddie’s face in two. There was a reckless abandon to his smile. It was different from the glazed-eyed, half-high smiles of the past week. His eyes were keen and sharp as he watched Steve fling himself across the room in the way only someone who’d learned to dance drunk could.

By the time the album finished, he’d worked up a sweat. Eddie joined in, singing a couple of lines when he could before tugging Steve back to bed, his hand in Steve’s hair, smoothing it back in place. The action was intimate, yet familiar.

“Alright, Starman. Maybe Bowie doesn’t suck so hard, but when I’m not on the run from the law, I’m going to show you what real music sounds like.” 

“Promise?” Steve asked, his chest heaving. 

Then, Eddie did something so unlike anything the populous of Hawkins would expect. To them, he was a Satanist and a murderer. Steve had always known better, but he’d seen Eddie as a wildcard. He was loud and rough around the edges, but he also had the capability of being endearing when the moment called for it. Still, Steve had never expected Eddie to roll over, extend his pinkie and link their little fingers together. 

“I promise,” He assured, placing his lips to the knuckle of his thumb as though sealing the deal. 

The action was equal parts childlike and intense. Steve looked down at their interlaced fingers and knew he was in over his head. Warmth pooled in Steve’s fingertips. 

“Eds, I—,” A knock at the downstairs door made the words die on Steve’s lips. The boys pulled apart. Steve was cold. 

“I’ll get it,” Steve spoke, picking up the discarded nail bat and trudging down the stairs. 

He hoped it was one of the door-knocking jocks. Some primal part of him felt like hitting something. Years before, he would have questioned if he was the kind of person who could do it, but now he knew he could. 

Steve clutched at the bat hidden behind his back as he swung open the door, coming face-to-face with an older man dressed in too-short jean shorts, holding an armful of paper bags. He looked familiar. He’d seen the man with Hopper. A furrow etched its way onto his brow. 

“Aren’t you going to let your beloved uncle in, Steve?” The man spoke, loud enough for the people in the next neighbourhood to hear. 

“Right,” Steve mumbled, pushing the door open and stepping to the side. 

The man walked through the house as though he’d grown up within their walls, dropping the paper bags on the countertop, switching on the lights and examining the space. 

“Hopper sent me with supplies. It’d draw too much attention having the feds at your front door, but a visit from your favourite Uncle Murray? That’s incognito. I’ve got groceries and painkillers, slipped in some vodka too, on the house. Personally, I was thinking of making my homemade ravioli for dinner. Trust me, it’s to die for. Where’s the other one by the way?” The man, Murray, breathed, spinning on his heels to examine the interior of the house.  Steve let his nail bat fall to the floor.

“You really should invest in a gun, kid...Was I interrupting something?” The older man asked, gesturing absentmindedly to his balding head. Steve touched his hair and found it still out of place. He ran his fingers through it in an attempt to tame it. 

“No, we... I was sleeping. Eddie’s upstairs. I think he’s okay, but I could use another set of eyes. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here. Are you staying?”

“I’m just staying for dinner. It’d look strange if your uncle only showed up for a few minutes, wouldn’t it?” Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer. 

“There’s the man of the hour,” Murray spoke, glancing up at the top of the staircase where Eddie stood, leaning heavily on the banister. 

“What happened to staying up there?” Steve spoke through gritted teeth, making his way back up the stairs. 

“You were taking too long,” Eddie muttered with an unbothered shrug. 

“And if it’d been one of Jason’s asshole friends, we’d have been screwed,” Steve rebutted, letting Eddie lean on him as they made their way to Murray in the kitchen. At least he could walk.

“But it wasn’t,” Eddie huffed, his breath warm on Steve’s neck. 

Steve kicked out one of the kitchen chairs and lowered Eddie into it. The older man watched them as a scientist observes a specimen. There was a morbid fascination to it.

“I see you two are getting along well,” He spoke. 

He’d found where Steve’s mother had stored their pots and had begun some strange kitchen alchemy. Steve had made risotto. This guy looked like he was completing a summoning ritual. The ingredients were splayed out on the countertop like objects of adoration. 

Steve sat down in the chair beside Eddie. It felt strange having someone else in the house. For what seemed like a lifetime, his world had consisted of one other person. He missed Robin, Dustin, and the rest of the kids, but he hadn’t let himself dwell on it. He’d known their isolation couldn’t last forever, but he’d never have guessed Murray would be the first person he’d see.  

“Tense mood. Why is it I always end up in the middle of couples in denial?” Murray breathed to himself. 

Eddie’s head snapped up with a speed Steve hadn’t seen him manage all week. Steve didn’t look at Murray, he was too busy trying to unpick the pained look on Eddie’s face. His eyes searched the boy’s body for some torn open wound he’d missed. 

“What? Don’t look so surprised. Contrary to what kids these days think, we did have homosexuality in the sixties,” Murray informed before pausing. He gave Steve a once-over that made his skin crawl. He felt as though he were a bug, pinned beneath a glass plate. 

“And bisexuality,” He clarified. 

Steve averted his eyes and reached over to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He was hopelessly lost in the conversation, but he knew something was wrong with Eddie. The boy jumped at the sudden contact and Steve pulled his hand away as though burnt. 

“So, what’s the problem? Still in denial?” Murray asked, levelling Steve with a knowing look. He scowled back at the man, ready for him to leave. 

“No. I think you know how you feel, maybe even how he feels.” Steve didn’t know how to respond. 

“You, however,” Murray continued, turning his attention to Eddie, the boiling pot on the stove, forgotten.

“I don’t think you have a clue. Self-esteem issues, maybe. You try to hide it, but you couldn’t imagine that someone in a house like this would look at you twice.” 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie breathed with a huff of indignation. Murray showed no signs of stopping. His eyes were back on Steve. 

“So, what’s holding you back? You got your heart broken after Nancy Wheeler. Let me guess, you keep saying how much you want commitment, but you keep dating the wrong people, people who don’t want to be tied down. That, my boy, is self-sabotage and him,” Murray spoke, indicating Eddie with a wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the rice. 

“He looks like a long-haul kind of guy.” 

“Dude,” Eddie interjected. 

“What? You’re both obviously attracted to one another. Don’t lie. I have eyes. You’re telling me that all this near-death stuff hasn’t made you re-evaluate your life a little? It’s just been you two, locked away together at the end of the world, helping each other heal. Seeking comfort in one another. You’ve got shared trauma. That kind of thing bonds you for life.” 

“Leave it alone,” Steve said, standing as he spoke. The chair scraped on the tile floor. A nails on a chalkboard kind of sound. 

Steve pushed past the older man, pulled the pot off the stove, and let a tense silence settle over the three of them. The subsequent dinner dragged on in uncomfortable silence. Steve and Eddie kept their eyes glued to their plates. Murray talked but neither paid attention. He gave Eddie’s wounds a once over, appearing as lost as Steve. He didn’t seem concerned, so Steve took it as a good thing. 

He thought he’d known what tense silence between himself, and Eddie felt like, but he’d known nothing compared to the moment Murray left. His whole body was on edge. Eddie wouldn’t meet his eyes. They needed to talk, but neither wanted to be the first to cave. 

“I was thinking of turning in early,” Steve spoke, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

The boys lay side by side, but sleep didn’t come. Eddie’s body was wound tight as a tourniquet. This time, Steve was the one bleeding out. 

He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Maybe that he was sorry. Murray was right. Steve had known Eddie liked him and he hadn’t said anything because it wasn’t a problem he could throw himself in front of. It’d be easier if he thought telling Eddie would end up with him getting hit. There were worse things. 

Eddie’s feelings had become more apparent as their time together wore on, but on some level, Steve had known long before. When Eddie had leaned over into his space smelling of cigarette ash, dried earth and sweat and called Steve some god-awful pet name, he’d known. He also knew the feelings weren’t one-sided. 

That revelation came later. Eddie had been fading in and out of consciousness. Steve had shaken him awake to redress his wounds when it happened. The boy awoke, shooting him a lopsided grin, gazing at Steve with his drowsy, doe eyes.

He’d crooned, ‘Good morning sunshine’. And that had been enough. 

Steve’s heart had stuttered to a halt as it had all the times before when a pretty girl had called him a prettier name. 

As much as Steve hated to admit it, Murray had been right about a lot of things. There was one thing Steve desperately wanted him to be wrong about. 

He and Eddie were bonded because of what they’d been through. That’s what the man had said. Shared trauma. Was that all they were?

Steve was back in the bathroom with Nancy, her white shirt, red. The whites of his eyes the moment she left, red. 

He knew where shared trauma got him. He’d try to bury it. To move past it. He wanted to be more than what was done to him. People would say he was running. He was bullshit. 

How was he meant to sit with the kind of stuff he and Eddie had been through? How was he meant to fight it? Would Steve always look at Eddie and see his death? Would Eddie always look at Steve and feel like dying? 

“I wished I’d met you later,” Steve spoke to the dark room. Eddie’s locked body loosened, and as it did, he started to shake. In a moment, he’d start to bleed too. 

“You know, normally people say they wished they’d met you sooner.” 

“I mean... I wish we’d met after everything with The Upside Down. That you hadn’t gotten dragged into it. I wish that we’d gotten to know each other the normal way,” Steve explained. Eddie snorted. 

“Can you imagine me doing anything the normal way?” He had a point. 

Steve didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say. The silence was back, looming large as a lunar eclipse. 

“You aren’t... weirded out by what he said? About me liking you?” Eddie’s voice was small. The only time Steve heard Eddie whisper was when he was dying. 

“I think he also said something about me liking you back,” Steve replied, glancing at Eddie’s profile only to find the man was already watching him. His face was contorted in confusion. 

“Then... what’s the problem here, Stevie?” 

Steve had never been good with his words. 

“What if we’ve ruined it?” He tried. At seeing a frown cross Eddie’s face, he knew he hadn’t done a good enough job at explaining. 

“With what’s happened between me and you. You never would’ve looked at me twice if I hadn’t saved you, and what if that’s all we’ve got? Shared trauma.” 

Bullshit. What if all they had was bullshit? Eddie finally understood.

“I don’t like you because you saved me, Steve. I like you because despite all the terrible shit you make me want to laugh.  I love that you’re shit at dancing, but you do it anyway. Also, screw that guy your risotto is better than his. You’re a good cook. Your stupid hair makes me want to slam my head in a car door and before you say anything, that’s a compliment. You care so damn much about everyone.” To Steve’s surprise, Eddie’s hand reached up to touch his cheek. 

“I don’t like you because we’ve been through bad shit together. I like you because you make me feel like one day, we’re going to get out on the other side of it, that things aren’t going to be like this forever,” Eddie finished.

Steve’s heart was a cardinal, beating itself bloody against a windowpane. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve breathed. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous. 

Eddie’s smile was a lightning strike, bright, beautiful and something they’d shape gods after. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Eddie’s lips were warm. 

[stevebabey]

part one. the same cw applies as part one (cw: past sexual coercion is implied) thank u for any & all kind comments <3 hopin to deliver on the angsty hurt/comfort front >:/

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not exactly how he planned to start his whole apology speech but it’s as good a start as any. Steve is glad he says it. Eddie’s entire character softens just a bit hearing it, his shoulders relaxing to sit a little lower, like maybe, he was afraid Steve had come by to argue some more.

For a moment, they stare at each other until Eddie seems to realise he’s blocking the entrance. He jolts just a bit and side steps, beckoning Steve to come inside.

Good start. Steve steps forward and the subsequent rustle from behind his back reminds him of what’s in his hands. He pulls them out from their hiding spot and offers them out with only a marginally awkward cough. “Uh, first, these are for you.”

In his hands are blue hydrangeas, 3 of them, and the bag containing a mixtape and a multitude of Eddie’s favourite candies.

Eddie’s reaction isn’t… quite the usual. He doesn’t swoon or snap up the gifts out of Steve’s hands like Tilly and other girlfriends had. He doesn’t smile either, just eyes then silently. Steve feels a roll of worry tangle up his stomach.

After a moment, Eddie takes them. Steve follows him, taking the trailer stairs two at a time to keep watch on what Eddie will do. It’s a surprise then to watch them get placed to the side, flowers and gift bag dumped down on the Munson’s cluttered dining table. Eddie doesn’t even attempt a peek into the bag, which, well, for Eddie says a lot.

Moving his gaze from their discarded state to Eddie, Steve finds himself pinned down by Eddie’s waiting stare, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He’s waiting for Steve to speak. Right, it’s time to face the music.

Steve chances a quick glance down at the smudged bullet points on his palm. It suddenly feels too wooden for what Steve really wants to say, too constructed, too much what he thought Eddie wanted to hear.

And besides, Eddie hadn’t reacted as expected in the first instance, the forgotten gifts put to the side. Steve shoves his hand deep in his pocket and goes instead with exactly what he’s feeling.

“Okay, um. Look, I didn’t mean what I said. I- I know that was, I— my parents came home that night.”

None of it is coming out right, stammers on every word. Steve curses himself under his breath and wills himself to continue. Knows if it was Eddie apologising it would be poetic and sweet, all the right words in all the right order.

“I’m not— It’s not an excuse,” Steve shakes his head, tries to string together one single coherent fucking sentence. “I’m sorry. Sorry that I didn’t pick you up. And- and I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. Really, it’s- I don’t think that of you. I’m sorry if I made you think I did.”

Eddie nods, though his clenched jaw gives away he’s not entirely peachy just yet.

“Robin told me about your parents being home. And yeah, it wasn’t cool what you said.” He agrees and Steve’s stomach turns. “But I wasn’t exactly fair either, getting all up in your face about it, so I’m sorry for that.”

Steve blinks, surprised; an apology was the last thing he’d expected to come out of Eddie’s mouth.

“I’m still a bit hurt,” Eddie admits, arms folding across his chest in a defensive motion. Steve hates how he seems to be curling in on himself, so obviously hating to admit aloud that Steve’s words had cut so deep. “But y’know, I know now that you were wound up from your parents being home. So, you’re, like, forgiven I guess.”

...Huh, okay. Usually, forgiveness comes after the grovelling, Steve thinks. Not as easily granted as Eddie is seemingly giving him now.

“Okay, uh,” Steve says warily, not quite sure where to go from here. Eddie isn’t really moving, still standing a bit tense. Waiting for Steve to break the ice.

Steve’s eyes dart to the dining table — the resting hydrangeas and abandoned candy. Steve tries to put two and two together, sure, so sure he’s missing something. It’s never this easy.

Eddie hadn’t acknowledged the flowers, hadn’t wanted the gifts. Steve may be forgiven but he still hasn’t shown Eddie how sorry he is.

Steve steps closer and sinks to his knees.

Eddie’s eyes widen in an instant and he takes half a step back, his hands raising up. It doesn’t feel good to watch Eddie put distance between them. Something curls up in Steve’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks. His voice is a bit scratchy and he clears his throat, not moving closer but not moving further away.

Fine. He wants Steve to spell it out. Steve wishes Eddie would just let him apologise in the way he knows — he was hoping Eddie wouldn’t make him drag out his apologies like his father did. But Eddie did love his theatrics so it’s not all that surprising.

“I’m… still apologising?” It’s not meant to come out as a question but half way through the sentence, Steve clocks Eddie’s body language. It’s giving very different vibes than expected. Steve’s confused.

The confusion only hikes up when anger flares in Eddie’s eyes, his jaw tightening just a bit. “You’re—? This isn’t gonna make what you said hurt any less, Steve. Is that what the…”

Eddie trails off, his own gaze tracking over to the dining table. He seems even more ticked off then, fixing his gaze back on to Steve.

“Are you trying to— Did you think you buying me stuff and sucking my dick is some completely fucked way to fast-track an apology?”

Steve feels his own eyes widen, each word twisting his confusion up so tightly it hurts in his chest. Eddie sounds angry.

“No,” Steve insists weakly, because he knows that’s what Eddie wants to hear. Even if that sort of is what he was expecting. He shakes his head, tries to get a read on Eddie’s body language beyond his annoyance. What does he want? “No, I just…”

Eddie’s anger seems to wane a little, seeing the confusion shudder across Steve’s features. Steve suddenly feels incredibly stupid being on his knees— but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. Maybe Eddie doesn’t want him in this way right now.

“I was,” Steve starts, clearing his throat and willing away his flushed cheeks. “I’m proving it to you.” His voice is a little stronger now, more sure. “I want to prove that I’m sorry.”

Eddie stares at him for a long moment and just when Steve thinks he’ll concede and reach for his belt, he surprises Steve and sinks to his knees too. He sits atop his boots, now face to face with his boyfriend, and reaches out gingerly to place a hand on Steve’s knee.

Steve eyes it for a moment. Is this the come on?

“Steve,” Eddie says gently. It reminds Steve of the tone one might have with an easily spooked animal, all comforting and soothing. “Do you even… want this? To have sex right now?”

It’s a strange question, Steve thinks. He frowns. This blowjob isn’t about him. “I think I’m confused,” He admits, forcing a chuckle to make it a little more casual. Then repeats the sentiment from earlier again. “I want to apologise.”

Eddie nods, harsh enough a curl untucks itself from behind his ear. “Yeah, sweetheart, you already did that. You apologised and I forgave you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that all these extra things, the gifts and flowers, made him question the genuineness in Steve’s apology at first. Something tells him to dig a little deeper. Steve isn’t smarmy or cocky, he’s not sure that’ll be forgiven, he’s… confused.

But Steve nods. He’s following Eddie’s words so far. Something glitters inside him that he’s already back to sweetheart so soon. He hesitantly lays his own hand atop of Eddie’s, resting them both on his knee. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even know what to say. 

“So, I guess what I’m asking is… what is this?” Eddie waves his hand over Steve’s kneeled form.

The way he says it is still so concerned, which is so far from the usual eagerness Steve has come to know from him normally in these types of situations. Suddenly, knowing Eddie’s definitely not in the mood makes the whole thing a lot more embarrassing now.

“Christ, I wish I had known you wouldn’t want that now,” Steve forces another laugh, quiet, as he ducks his head down. Eddie doesn’t join in, just waits patiently.

“I was— y’know,” Steve waves a hand, gesturing to nothing. “Proving I was sorry. Making it up to you. Guess sex was the wrong idea there, sorry.”

He grimaces a bit, squeezes Eddie’s hand. Steve wonders how he’ll end up making it up to Eddie, if not this way. It’s always been this way.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just stares at Steve with a perturbed expression on his face. If Steve had to guess, he’d say he almost— almost looks a bit sad.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, nudging closer. Both their knees are touching now. “You already apologised. I forgave you.”

He’s repeating things Steve already knows, so Steve nods. Then repeats the thing he’s heard a hundred times over, “Yeah, I know and now I need to prove how sorry I am.”

Eddie’s face crumples a bit, the frown line between his brows deepening. He seems to have hit some understanding, shuffling even closer to Steve. Any annoyance from a minute ago has leaked out of his body. He’s all comfort now, every soft part that Steve adores so much.

“No, you don’t.” Eddie says simply, words strong and sure. “I know that you’re sorry. You said so. That’s proof enough for me, sweetheart.”

Oh. That’s all there is to it, apparently.

Steve’s acutely aware that the emotion streaking through his chest is relief — relief that he doesn’t have to jump through hoops to gain anything back. Doesn’t have to open his mouth or spread his legs just to earn back his partners affections for a heat of the moment mistake.

He said he was sorry and Eddie forgave him. That’s it. That’s all it took. Like an ill-weighted scale, all the relief slides down into a strange hot shame. Oh god, he’s just come in and then— and Eddie hadn’t even— and Steve had thought—

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, that must’ve—“ Steve reels back, the embarrassment from earlier rearing up inside him close to pure mortification. He pulls his hand from Eddie’s grip, all of it suddenly wrong, so so wrong. “I’m sorry, that was so weird of me to offer—“

“Hey, hey, hey, no.” Eddie’s cutting in before Steve gets very far, firmly planting both hands onto Steve’s shoulders to keep him from receding any further. “Don’t apologise for that. That’s… Steve, will you look at me please?”

Nope, a small voice inside him answer, with a quiver. Looking at the trailer floor is so much easier than what Eddie’s asking.

There’s been many times where Steve has felt a bit dumb but this? This feels like a special kind of stupid. The word throbs in his chest painfully as he wonders how he’d got so turned around. He wants to apologise again.

“Stevie?” Eddie says his name again, a soft coo. One of the hands on Steve’s shoulders shifts, hesitating for a moment, before gingerly cradling his jaw. Steve lets Eddie tilt his face up, reluctantly dragging his gaze up to his boyfriend’s face.

Eddie is all sweetness, eyes soft and smile encouraging. It’s his tenderness that makes Steve exhale, a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and he can’t help the way he sags just a bit and leans into Eddie’s hold.

Eddie gives a quiet hum. “No more apologies, okay?”

Steve nods, the motion a bit slow. It sort of feels as though it’s a little harder to move against gravity, like the air is thick molasses. He’s tired. Why is he so tired? He wonders if it’s the mountainous relief that’s still trickling out his body.

“We- we’ll need to talk about that later,” Eddie nods along to his words, voice all tender. The way he says it lets Steve know it’s not a bad thing. “But for now I think I’d just rather hold you. Can I do that?”

How backwards. Steve had come here to apologise, to make it up to Eddie, and now he’s the one being comforted. And yet, his nod comes much easier this time. It’s probably a bit too eager but Steve’s just about drowned in his embarrassment tonight so what’s some more?

Eddie’s hands move and grip Steve’s hands in his lap, giving a comforting squeeze— then waits, doesn’t move until Steve gives another squeeze back.

Then Eddie’s rising, standing up and pulling Steve up with him. It’s quiet, Steve hiding the tiny shake in his hands by squeezing Eddie’s hand so tight he won’t notice — til Eddie’s knees crack, terribly loud in the silence, and he whispers a loud, “Ow, fuck.”

Steve can’t help it, he laughs, the sound bursting out of him. Fuck, his boyfriend is an old man sometimes.

Then Eddie laughs too, that glorious sound that Steve could bottle and get drunk on and then they’re both laughing — and Eddie is tugging Steve into his bedroom, both of them collapsing into the creaky bed. The springs whine under their weight but it goes unheard.

Eddie does his best to bundle Steve in his arms, accidentally sticking his elbow into Steve’s side but it doesn’t even matter. Eddie cuddles are a fuckin’ delicacy as far Steve’s concerned— when he’s happy with the way he’s wrapped himself around Steve, full Koala style, he squeeezes.

It forces a pathetic sounding wheeze out from Steve, quickly spiralling into another laugh because who has ever loved him this way? This well? Between the threads of relief that pluck on his heartstrings is white hot love.

Steve already knows what’s coming next, what is always the second step in Eddie cuddles. Instead of hiding his face away into Eddie’s chest, like he’s done a thousand times before, he sticks his face out. Chin jutted out, face exposed, and ready for kisses.

Eddie doesn’t deny him. It’s a wet smush of quick kisses, on his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids — Eddie lets out little ‘mwahs’ as he goes, in a sickly sweet voice that Steve adores.

Faintly, inside his chest Steve’s heart sighs. Because no apology, no forgiveness, has ever been like this, this simple, this easy. Equal comfort — like Eddie was aware Steve had been suffering on the other end of the silent treatment, at regretting his own words.

Steve silently hopes it’ll always be this way, even though another part deeper down knows it’ll be. That arguments with Eddie might involve childish silent treatment, tongues poked out and boots stamped — but that apologies would never be a test. Never more than an honest admittance of regret in the form of words.

In the way Eddie presses a particularly slimy kiss against his cheek, hard enough it makes Steve’s cheek squish, he thinks he might not have to worry much at all.

tags: @disorganisedbee @estrellami-1 @moonshadows-13 @qubert18 @fxndom-hoe @nelotegreitic @justforthedead89 @avacrebs @yikes-a-bee @just-a-tiny-void @stevesbipanic @penny-lane-bitch @clarakeanen @weeennussy

[i-am-true-believer]

Hello, my sweet fanfiction readers, the late night scrollers, the mid day day dreamers. I feel like todays a good day for a check-in. It's been a bit hasnt it?

So, take a deep breath. This is a safe place to land. In a world of strife and hate, I promise here is a safe place. This is a no hate, judgment free zone.

Have you eaten today? Drank water? Have you moved around just a little bit? I'm proud of you for waking up today, for trying, for choosing to keep living when life is so hard. Your comfort character is so proud of you too. They're so happy you exist, and they're waiting for you. They're ready for your next adventure, your next story. They're waiting for you to read about their lives and their romances. They're so excited! What's it going to be today? Found family? A/B/O? enemies to lovers? Whatever it is that helps you through the day, I'm so glad it does. Remember, if there is an infinite number of universes, then there's a universe where your comfort character adores you beyond anything else. No matter what your brain is telling you, I promise you are loved, you are important, and you matter.

Remember your comfort character believes in you and so do I, the girl who's scrolling with you, giving you a safe place to land. If you need a friend I'm here, if you need somewhere to vent, someone to gush about characters to, I'm here. I hope tomorrow is better than today and that you remember how loved you are. I hope you find the fic or post that makes today a little bit easier.

❤️💛True💛❤️

[sweepy-stringbean]

Nancy nonsense feat. platonic stancy, platonic jancy, and ronance

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side. 

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter. 

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom. 

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back. 

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life. 

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut? 

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself. 

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his. 

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake. 

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort. 

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again. 

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest. 

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation. 

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it. 

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day. 

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time. 

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs. 

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain. 

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[jaebeomsbitch]

There’s nothing you hated more than being sick. You felt helpless and useless, leaning against your partner for help when you despised relying on others. Nonetheless you sit quietly next to him feeling the heat of his arm radiating deep into your skin as you cough and sniffle.

You wipe your nose with your sleeve standing up and slowing, swaying with dizziness.

“Woah, hold on. What do you need baby?” He asks softly holding onto your wrist, thumb tracing your inner wrist comfortingly.

“Need a blanket” you murmur, wiping more snot against your sleeve. He pulls you down softly onto his lap.

“Got one here sweetheart, where it’s always at” he says, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch where it always hangs.

“Oh” you blink, as he spreads the soft fabric over the two of you, tucking in the edges under your thighs.

“Better?" he asks quietly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns onto your thigh.

When you nod sleepily, he leans in and whispers into your ear, "Good. Now let's try to enjoy this movie, yeah? No more coughing allowed - I want to hear those sweet little gasps of yours when the scary parts come on."

[infinite-orangepeel]

steve’s house in the show vs. steve’s house in my head

[atimeofyourlife]

Come one, come all to this tragic affair

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: hurt/comfort (heavy on the hurt) | rated: m | wc: 1000 | cw: minor character death, car accidents, death of parents | tags: established steddie, emt steve, death of steve's parents This was the worst shift Steve had faced since starting his emt training. Facing down a car accident that included his parents' car. title from The End by MCR

Steve still felt a little out of place sitting in the passenger seat of the ambulance as it sped down the highway with the lights and sirens blaring. He was still in training, and every emergency seemed new. He knew this would be bad from the little he'd heard over the radio, a major car accident that sounded incredibly serious with multiple casualties.

He couldn't help swearing loudly as the ambulance slowed to a stop at the scene, instantly recognizing one of the cars.

"Most people save that until they know the status of everything." His mentor, John, responded as he moved to get out.

"No, it's just. The Mercedes. That's my parents' car." Steve replied hesitantly, unlatching his seat belt and reaching for the door.

"Stay in the truck for a minute." John said, climbing out and slamming the door, Steve watched as he made his way over to the police and other ambulances on scene.

Steve waited anxiously for John to return, watching as he spoke to another paramedic. He tried to get a gauge on what was being said, but their faces didn't give much away. He was terrified of what the outcome could be. When John returned to the ambulance, Steve could see from his face that it wasn't going to be good news.

"Harrington. I'm relieving you from duty."

"What-" Steve started to ask, but the words got stuck in his throat.

"It, it's not good news, kid. For the Mercedes, there's a male driver that's DOA. And a female passenger in critical condition. You should be with your mom, not worrying about duty. I'll walk you over, then I'll radio base to let them know what's going on."

"Oh." Steve felt numb as he climbed out of the cab. There were people scattered everywhere, working on the people that had been in the other cars. Near the crumpled shell of the Mercedes, a body was covered by a sheet and Steve knew that it was his father. A few feet away, laid his mother, covered in blood. "Mom." He gasped, hurrying to her side.

"Stevie?" She whispered, opening her eyes for barely a second.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm here." He rested his hand gently on her shoulder, keeping out the way of the paramedics as the worked on her.

Once his mom was stable enough to be moved, she was being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

"Harrington." John came jogging over. "I've spoken to base, you're signed off duty for at least a couple of weeks. Go with your mom, someone will catch up with you later."

Steve just nodded, before climbing into the back of the ambulance with his mom, taking her hand for comfort as the doors slammed.

At the hospital, Steve was directed into a side room to wait for updates as his mom was rushed into surgery. He knew it wasn't looking good. The paramedics that brought them in offered Steve their condolences before they had to leave to get back out. He knew he should phone Eddie, but he didn't know if he could find the words, at least until he knew.

After a couple of hours, Hopper walked into the room. Steve vaguely recalled noticing him at the scene, but his focus had been elsewhere.

"Any updates?" He asked, taking the seat next to Steve. Steve just shook his head, not wanting to talk.

It was only a few minutes later that a doctor walked in. Steve got to his feet, wanting to be ready for anything.

"I'm sorry, Mr Harrington. We tried everything we could, but your mother's injuries were too severe. We were unable to save her."

"Oh, I." Steve could feel himself crumbling, tears running down his face and his knees buckling. The only thing preventing him hitting the floor was Hopper darting forward to grab his shoulders.

"I've got you." Hopper wrapped him in a tight hug. "I've got you."

The rest of the day passed in a blur, Steve just moving on instinct following whatever Hopper or any of the hospital staff told him. It felt like he could blink and he would be in a different place, with different people. He'd never had a great relationship with either of his parents, but he just couldn't process that he'd lost them both in just a few hours. He felt like he was just seeing snapshots through someone else's eyes. He came back to himself when Hopper shook his shoulder, somehow he'd lost getting into the car and the drive home.

"Let's get you inside. D'you want me to explain it to Munson?" Hopper asked gently.

Steve just nodded as he got out and walked up to the small house he was renting with Eddie.

"Steve, is that you?" Eddie called as the door shut, stopping short when he saw Hopper. "What's going on?"

"We should probably sit down for this." Hopper replied.

Steve followed Eddie into the living room, curling into his side as they sat on the sofa, not caring about his bloody uniform or the fact he hadn't bothered to take off his boots.

"He responded to a major car accident. His parents were in one of the cars. Neither of them survived."

"Oh, Stevie." Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Steve, feeling the tears start to soak into his shirt. "I've got you baby. I've got you."

"If you need anything, just let me know. And I'll check in everyday." Hopper said as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, thanks Hopper." Eddie replied, still holding Steve close.

"You need anything Stevie?" Eddie asked after Hopper left.

Steve shook his head. "Do I even get to be sad? I don't- I've barely seen or spoken to them for months. Why should I be allowed to be sad?"

"You can feel however you want. They were your parents and you loved them, you're allowed to grieve." Eddie murmured, running his fingers through Steve's hair. "And I'll be here through it all."

[navnae]

Steve always twist and turn in his sleep because of the reoccurring nightmares that he gets in the middle nights. Sometimes they’re so bad that he wakes up with tears running down his face and reaching his hands out into the darkness for any kind of comfort. Eddie holds him tightly and wipes the tears away with his thumb softly before running his hands through Steve’s hair as he places his head on his chest. Steve feels at peace when Eddie sings him to sleep and placing a Goodnight kiss onto his forehead. He wraps his arms around Eddie and lays his head on his chest then slowly drifts into a deep slumber with no more nightmares. Eddie smiles to himself once he hears light snores coming from Steve meaning that he’s able to sleep peacefully, soon after Eddie is falling asleep with Steve in his arms.

[afewproblems]

Steve always falls first, falls fastest.

It happened three years ago with Nancy, it happened with Robin back before the bathroom confession cemented their platonic soulmate status. It happened with Lauren MacNeal in Steve's freshman year, and Cindy Carlile back when he was eight years old.

He knows himself and knows the beginning stages. It's always quick and never painless, and seems to hurt more with every passing year. A dull ache in his chest that throbs and whispers darkly, 'remember Harrington, you'll always be bullshit'.

And when he finds himself falling for one Eddie Munson, he knows exactly when it starts.

Movie nights became a regular thing shortly after Eddie was discharged from the hospital. Robin, Steve, and Eddie all pile into the Harrington living room or the Munson trailer every other week, it's too hard to be apart.

Really, it becomes a way to keep a late night conversation going with Eddie while the credits roll, Robin dozes on the beanbag in the corner and Steve can't help but stare.

Eddie is so animated when he talks about something he loves, his brown eyes light up with his thousand watt smile and the dimples come out in full force, Steve almost has to squint with the amount of natural sunshine this man emanates when he talks about his passions.

He says as much to Robin during their next shift and she can't help but roll her eyes and gag, "Steven Remington Harrington-"

"Not my name," Steve cuts in with a laugh as he stuffs their second copy of the Shining into the machine to rewind.

"Don't interrupt dingus," Robin continues imperiously, "I get it, you have heart-eyes for the guy, but you gotta stop gushing about him to me and tell him".

Steve rolls his eyes and ignores the way his stomach swoops at the thought of telling Eddie how he feels, and the realization that it's happening again.

"I-I mean, it's not like I'm in love with the guy Robin, he stutters out eventually, "it'll go away, or he'll find someone else to talk to, they always do eventually".

He focuses on picking up the stack of freshly rewound tapes and walking them into the shelves, avoiding Robin's silent sad look that bores into the back of his head as he hides in the stacks.

Weeks turn into months and Steve absorbs nearly everything he can about Eddie.

He wears a size 10 shoe, but the 'shit-kicking' steel toes always look a smidge bigger - the inch or two it adds to Eddies height doesn't hurt either as Steve finds he has to tilt his head up to meet Eddie's gaze when he's decked out in his metal gear for a show...

He got his first guitar when he went to live with Wayne, it was a simple acoustic that he learned his chords on and practiced CCR on to his uncles delight.

He hates orange juice and loves coffee.

He loves cats and is scared to death of birds.

Every detail draws Steve in, but that small voice in the back of his mind reminds him again and again, 'they always leave Steve, don't get too comfortable'.

But how could he not?

Eddie is comfortable, he's nice and funny, and seems to enjoy hanging out with Steve almost as much as Steve enjoys being with Eddie. There is a softness to him when they're alone that makes Steve feel safe.

So what if he doesn't feel the same, Steve isn't about to give this up.

Not yet.

Steve takes to dropping by the Corroded Coffin band practice every weekend, a six pack in one hand and a small wary smile on his face - he's still not entirely accepted by Gareth and Jeff but the beer helps and Eddie vouches for him every time.

The atmosphere is still somewhat stilted, but it isnt as icy as it had been. Now Gareth even sits with him after practice while Eddie and Jeff go over their solos just outside the door as they share a joint, blowing smoke rings into the evening air.

"You know," Gareth says one night to Steve as he plops down beside him onto the sunken couch in the garage, "If someone had told me in high school I'd be sitting here with King-Steve and sharing a beer after practice, I'd laugh in their face".

Steve fights down a wince at the mention of the old nickname, and nods once. Who was he kidding, 'King-Steve' was not something he'd ever be able to outrun.

"So," Gareth continues, tapping his hands against the neck of the bottle, "how's the crush going?"

Steve chokes on his beer and swings his hand up to pound his fist into his chest to loosen up the liquid, Gareth claps him on the back with an alarmed expression on his face.

"Jesus Harrington, y'alright?" Gareth says as Steve tries to catch his breath.

Steve nods and breathes deeply through his nose, his eyes flick to the open garage door to see if Eddie or Jeff are on their way back inside, "I-I don't think I heard you right," he manages with a rasp.

Gareth snorts and shakes his head, leaning back against the couch. He's quiet for a moment, eyes trained on Steve's face.

Steve, for his part, stares resolutely at the floor hoping his gaze is strong enough to burn a hole into the concrete he can jump into.

"Look," Gareth says after a beat, "I guess its not really any of my business Harrington," his eyes travel over to the open door before flicking back to Steve, "and I don't mean to sound like a prick when I say this, but you're not really his type man".

Something in Steve's throat pulls tight, bullshit echoes in the hollow cavity of his chest as he nods and swallows the last dreggs of his beer.

"Right," Steve mumbles, he puts his hands on his knees and stands up from the couch, "Right, yeah, I mean, makes sense...".

He crosses to the door and manages to toss the now empty can into an open bin they'd officially commandeered for empties.

"Dude," Gareth says softly standing as well, he makes no move to walk towards Steve though.

Steve waves a hand and drops the other to his back pocket to hide the sudden trembling. Gareth is right, it doesn't make sense. Why would someone like Eddie ever want to be with someone like Steve? How would that even work?

Always fast but never painless, right on time.

"You guys were uh, great as usual, I'll see you around man," Steve says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, he hasn't had to pull out the 'King Steve' smile in a few years but it still fits, still manages to hide a few things.

He turns away from Gareth and walks out through the open garage door.

The sun is nearly below the horizon and the stars have begun to migrate, the inky blue of night begins to steep into the last vestiges of light, if he's careful he can slip past Eddie and Jeff without either of them noticing.

He makes it to the beemer before Eddie turns towards him.

Eddie's brown eyes widen before narrowing in a questioning stare, he opens his mouth but Steve opens the car door and quickly slides into the driver's seat.

He stares straight ahead as he backs out of the driveway and pulls out onto the road.

Steve can feel those brown eyes follow him as he makes the long drive back to his empty house.

Part Two Now Up!

[xspeter]

hey kat <3

could i request a Steve Harrington hurt comfort or angst where r and Steve and the others make it out of the upside down(s4), but r is injured and she doesn't realise it until they actually get back to hawkins.

the adrenaline's just masking any pain they're all feeling, but when they climb through the gate at eddies trailer and reader falls on the mattress, she winces. Steve asks her about it when they finally get to his house, after it's all over and done with.

you can totally ignore this if it's not your cup of tea. but thanks anyways love<3

✩ I hope this is alright, i wrote it as soon as i woke up 👩‍💻. didn’t proofread it so im really sorry for any mistakes !! thanks for the ask <3

Steve’s hurt. It’s the only thing your mind can focus on beneath skull mountain. Steve’s hurt and you weren’t there to protect him.

The bats had held onto him as if he was the best thing they’d ever tasted, and even with your pushing and pulling, it took way longer to get them off of him then you would’ve liked. Your mind couldn’t even focus on your own injuries, particularly the large gash on your thigh from the bats claws, but instead on Steve’s face constructed in pain.

“I’m sorry,” You breathed, wrapping your shirt scrap onto his gaping wound. His normally tan skin was paled, brown eyes dilated slightly.

You watched as the shirt began to seep into a light pink color and tightened it more to stop the blood flow, and Steve hissed as you did. You froze at the noise, mind running with different outcomes and worries.

“Hey, hey,” Steve reassured, back sliding down the rock so he could be eye-level with you. He winced as he did. “I’m okay.” He spoke softly, reaching a hand out to cup your cheek. “We’re all okay.”

You gazed around at all your friends, Robin and Eddie are nursing each others wounds, while Nancy takes care of her own. You’d always admired the girl for her resilience and independence.

To be honest, sometimes you almost felt jealous of the girl. Steve had been in love with her for so long before he finally started to fall for you last summer at Starcourt, but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel like those feelings they had for each other never fully went away.

You sucked in a breath, “I know. It’s just.. what if-”

“Don’t think about the what ifs,” He spoke, pink lips slightly glossy, “We’re here now, and we’re okay. Alright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on your breathing. Sometimes, it was still hard for you to comprehend that this was your life now. After the disaster at Starcourt and you’d been exposed to this entire situation, sometimes you still just couldn’t believe how many times these people had put their lives on the line.

“You promise you’re okay?” You asked solemnly, shoulders slightly slumped. Steve just grinned and rubbed your arm gently, “I promise,” He eyed your figure, “Are you okay?”

You nearly scoffed. Steve had chunks of flesh missing from his stomach and he was asking if you were okay? “I’m fine, Steve.”

He squinted his eyes at you suspiciously, “Are you sure? We’ll take care of it if you are. Don’t be a hero.”

“I’m not being a hero. I’m just not hurt.”

Steve, being so exhausted and delirious from the blood loss foolishly believed you. He kissed the side of your head softly and followed you as you followed Nancy to the Wheeler residence.

His first sign should’ve been when you nearly stumbled down the stairs. He’d been there to catch you, eyebrows knitted as he helped you steady. “What happened?” He asked.

You let out an awkward chuckle, going a bit pink at everyone’s concerned gazes. “I’m fine,” You spoke softly, “Just lost my balance.”

Nancy hummed, but she didn’t look convinced. Once everyone left the room to figure out what the hell Steve was yelling about, she pulled you aside. “You’ve been quiet ever since Skull Rock. Did you get hurt?”

You swallowed. The adrenaline rush you had felt was slowly waning away, leaving you to feel every bit of the long gash on your thigh. “I’m fine.” You spoke, thankful that your black leggings hid the dark red substance slowly leaking from you, “Just exhausted.”

Nancy still didn’t look convinced, her eyes glimmering slightly as she sucked in her bottom lip, “If something’s wrong we can figure out a way to help you, okay?” She took a breath, her eyes downcast. “If.. if you’re hurt and- and god forbid something were to happen to you Steve would never forgive himself. You can’t do that to him.”

You knew she was right, Steve didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to lose someone else after everything he’s suffered, but you firmly believed you’d be okay. If anything, you’d just need a few stitches and then everything would be okay. Which is why you say, “I’m fine. Promise.”

❣︎

You were more than just relived when you made it to Eddies trailer. You were practically ecstatic. You were ready to get out of this hellhole and finally take care of your wound.

But, you should’ve known that nothing would be okay, not after Nancy’s vision. You and Steve watched as she fell over, the both of you attempting to shake her awake while everyone else rushed to find a song.

But, Nancy wouldn’t need it, and instead would wake on her own with a message from Vecna.

Steve let Nancy go first, her body hitting the mattress softly. Robin helped her up, offering her hand which Nancy gratefully took.

Next, it was your turn. Steve helped you down, his cold hand on your lower back gently dropping you down.

But, unlike everyone else, you couldn’t get up from the mattress. The fall winded you, and the pain on your leg increased tenfold. You let a quiet whine when you tried to stand on it, immediate tears springing to your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve called down in a panic stricken voice.

“I’m- I’m fine.” You replied hoarsely, attempting again to stand and being unable to.

Eddie gazed down to where a large pool of blood was beggining to form on the mattress beneath your leg,band his face immediately paled.

“Shit, shit, shit,” He chanted, “You gotta get down here, man!” He called. Eddie graciously slipped his ringed fingers under your back and knees, carrying you away from the mattress and towards the couch.

You barely heard Steve’s body hit the bed as he jumped down, but you felt his presence as soon as Eddie set you down. “Shit, how long has- why didn’t you-”

You could feel Steve’s panic, and it made you want to scream. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be okay, and everything would’ve been fine.

But even now you can feel the unnerving exhaustion the blood loss is making you feel, and you know that’s not going to happen.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke softly, eyes glassy with tears as you began to accept your fate.

Steve was yelling for them to get help, his own eyes wet and wide.

He attempted to put pressure on the wound, and at this point you couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He chanted, voice wobbly.

“I’m sorry,” You swallowed, “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I told you not to be a hero!” He cried, “You- you said you were okay.”

“I know,” You shushed softly, “You’ll be okay.”

Steve froze for a moment, letting your words process. You didn’t say I’ll be okay, you said He’d be okay. While the change was slight, he understood what it meant.

“You’ll be okay too,” He attempted, voice weak. “We’re gonna be okay, and we’re gonna get that apartment in Indianapolis that we talked about, okay? We’re gonna move outta Hawkins like we said we would.”

You smiled softly at the memory, remembering all the sweet nights where you laid naked in his bed, drawing soft patterns on his back. You’d talk for hours about your futures. About marriage and kids and growing old together.

You just wish you could’ve seen it happen.

“Can you remind me?” You asked softly, eyelids heavy. “About our life after we get married?”

Steve let out a quiet sob. He’d stopped his attempts at putting pressure on your leg, he knew it was too late. There wasn’t anything he could do.

“We’re gonna-” He sniffled, hand reaching for your own and squeezing it tightly. “We’re gonna get married in the forest, just behind Hoppers house with the Gazebo. And we’re gonna move into a beautiful apartment in the city, with green shudders and- and-” He paused momentarily, a tear slipping down his cheek.

You squeezed his hand softly, encouraging him to keep going. He took a breath, glassy eyes staring at your paling face. “We’ll have three kids. Two boys and a girl, and they’ll have a cat named Penny. They’re gonna- gonna get older and they’ll all go off the college, and we’ll have so much space we won’t know what to do with ourselves.” He chuckled softly, “We’ll spend every day with each other. Doing all that sappy, old people stuff. And- and we’ll grow old together and we’re gonna live happy, okay? I just- you just gotta-”

He allowed himself to risk a glance at your face, and he wished he hadn’t. Your eyes were closed, a soft smile tugging on your pale lips, and he knew what it meant.

You were gone. Just like that.

And even as the police arrived and Eddie attempted whatever story he could put together onto why you all looked so.. well, roughed up, Steve couldn’t even listen.

All he could focus on was your body slowly being zipped away.

[jegulusofwesper]

me refusing to read fics unless they have a happy ending because i can’t deal with my comfort characters dying even if they’re dead in canon

[samanthastarss]

This is so messy, ajgsjggj. I really need to actually make nice & clean art soon- :,)

Anywhizzle, have this sketchy drawing meme i quickly drew bcs i thought it was funny