#angsty august!!!

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 1.6k | mature | angst

cw: mentions of parental abuse (verbal)

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 21

Prompt: Please

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The second Eddie steps into the kitchen, he knows something is wrong. 

Steve always says he doesn't mind doing the dishes and Eddie has given up on arguing with him about it long ago.

He watches as his boyfriend stands in front of the sink. On any day, he would find Steve whistling to some pop song, swaying his hips to whatever rhythm he has in his head as he soaps up their dishes. 

He's usually happy when he does it. Tells Eddie it always helps. And Eddie can't quite put his finger on what's wrong but he's definitely not happy. 

Eddie walks up to him slowly, and once he's a little closer he can see Steve's shoulders shaking. It's barely there and Eddie is unsure what to do, but when he reaches his hand and touches Steve, he knows that's the wrong choice.

Steve recoils, dropping whatever he was holding in his hand with a loud noise inside the sink and Eddie pulls back.

He's not sure what's happening, but he doesn't like it one bit. 

"Hey, hey. Steve. Look at me. What's wrong baby? 

Steve turns to him and his face is red and wet from the tears spilling down. Eddie feels his inside twisting, and his mind goes straight to Dustin and the kids. 

Something happened to them, and somehow Steve knows it and-

"P-please," Steve says, so fucking small. "Please, don't be mad."

Eddie frowns, his brain scrambling to catch up. 

"Why would I be mad?" 

At first, it seems like Steve's not going to say anything but then he moves to the side and Eddie sees the sink. 

The sink is a mess. And Steve is usually a neat guy so it takes Eddie one second to adjust. And then, he sees the blood.

It's not a lot of blood, but it's definitely blood. Eddie tries not to freak out because he knows it'll only make it worse

"What happened, sweetheart?" Usually, Steve loves when Eddie uses pet names, but today? Today he almost folds in on himself.

"I broke a-a mug," Steve says and Eddie has to hold himself together, afraid of hurting his feelings with the tiniest reaction.

"That's... ok," Eddie says, hoping that's the right answer. Steve doesn't relax but he also doesn't get worse, so he counts that as a win.

"No, Eddie. I broke a mug. And it's your favorite," Steve says and Eddie nods softly.

"Is it the Garfield one?" Eddie asks and Steve's eyes widen. He nods, doesn't meet his eyes. 

Eddie actually dislikes that mug. It was his father's and he felt obliged to keep it, but he kept hoping it would break. Nothing against Garfield, but he would much rather not have anything to remember his father by. 

"Well," Eddie looks at the sink, "I'll clean it. And you can go sit in the living room and I'll be there in a second to patch you up." 

Steve doesn't move. He just shakes his head and Eddie is a little lost. Maybe his hand is hurting so he tries to grab it but Steve flinches, back hitting the sink and making a pan slide down. 

"Baby, what... what is it?" Eddie asks. He's at a loss here and has no idea what to do. If nothing works, he'll have to call Robin because Steve is clearly about to have a breakdown.

"You're mad," Steve says. And... no. Eddie's not mad. Why would he be mad over a dumb mug? Even if it was his favorite, Eddie wouldn’t be made. Accidents happen and he’s honestly more worried that Steve is hurt than anything else.

"I'm not, Stevie,” he tries to sound sincere, but it’s like Steve has checked out of their conversation. Like he’s lost inside his own head.

"I broke your favorite mug. I made a... a mess. But I'm gonna clean it up." 

Eddie shakes his head. "You'll do no such thing. You're gonna go to the living room and you're gonna let me clean it. And then you’re going to wait for me because I need to take a look at your hand, need to make sure it’s just a superficial cut."

Eddie moves again and Steve freezes. 

"No! I'm gonna clean it," he says and Eddie is starting to get tired. He wants to fix it, he wants to help Steve, but he’s not sure how. 

There’s a little voice inside his head that tells him this is not about this particular mug on this particular day. Eddie likes to think he’s a nice boyfriend. Treats Steve well. Because he does. Never did anything to make Steve think he would be mad over a broken mug and definitely wouldn’t be mad about any mess. 

Everyone knows Steve is the one putting up with Eddie’s messy ass. 

Then, like a lightning bulb, something clicks, and Eddie decides to try something. 

"Steve," he says, voice stern, and Steve looks like he was expecting it. "Go to the living room. Right now. I'll be there in a second." 

Eddie hates the way his voice sounds. He’s not being rude, just a little more firm than he would usually be with Steve. 

Steve likes soft and sweet. But this seems to do the trick. He watches as Steve’s eyes fall to the ground with a small nod and then he walks away, pressing his hands together to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.

He sighs. He feels so out of his depth right now it's not even funny. He wants to call Buckley and ask her what she thinks, but he can’t right now. Steve would definitely hear it and that wouldn’t end up well. 

Eddie gets to cleaning. He collects the broken pieces and feels like the mug is mocking him, telling him how dumb and useless he is. Can’t even help his boyfriend.

He’s not in any rush. Feels like Steve could use the quiet time to calm down. To maybe tell Eddie what’s happening and then Eddie will fix it.

But that’s not what happens.

Steve is sitting on the couch, head low as he clutches his hand. His sweatpants are stained with blood and Eddie knows he'll have to ask Wayne how to clean them. 

"Steve," he says softly but even that makes him jump. He looks up at him and his eyes are glassy and distant. Eddie fucking hates it.

"I'm sorry," he says again and Eddie sighs. He doesn't know what's happening but he has a hunch and he's going to go with it. 

"It's ok. It was an accident," he says and he can see Steve shaking his head. "Stop. I'm talking now." 

Eddie's voice is calm but firm and Steve just nods, sniffling. 

"I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. That's not enough. 

"Words, Steve. Would I lie to you?" 

"N-no," Steve says and Eddie offers him the hint of a smile. 

"Right. So, I'm not mad that you broke the mug, ok?" 

Steve nods. "Ok."

"I am mad, though," Eddie starts and he sees fear in Steve's eyes. His insides twist. He's either going to nail this or ruin his relationship. "That you hurt yourself and didn't call for me. Why didn't you call me for, Stevie?"

He says the last part a little softer. Steve's eyes are on him and this is it. Either he cracks him or fucks this up completely. 

"I... didn't want you to be mad," he says. 

"Because of the mug?" 

"Y-yeah," Steve's voice shakes and Eddie takes a step forward. "I didn't mean to, it slipped from my hand and broke, and I thought you would be mad." 

"Baby," Eddie says. It's hard to keep his stance. He wants to hold Steve and kiss him and promise him things are ok, but he needs Steve to see it first. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. You know that, don't you?" 

Steve doesn't seem sure but he nods. And it’s after a long sigh that he keeps talking, "my... dad.  He always got mad. Always yelled at me and called me stupid." 

Eddie sighs. Bingo. 

"I'm not your dad though, am I?" 

"N-no."

"Who am I?" Eddie asks and Steve looks at him and his face finally softens. 

"You're Eddie. My... boyfriend" 

Eddie smiles. "Yeah, I am. And I don't get mad, do I?"

"Only..." Steve says. He looks like a kid, afraid to get the answer wrong. "Only if I hurt myself and don't call you." 

Eddie feels his chest filling up with pride. He nods, takes a step forward, and puts his hand on Steve's face. 

"Yeah. That's right. Because it's ok to ask for help. I'll always help you, ok? I'll always take care of you, Stevie. And I'll never get mad at something like this, ok?" 

Steve's eyes flutter shut. He's calmer now. He nods and nuzzles Eddie's hand. 

"Ok, Eddie. Thank... thank you." 

Eddie caresses his face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I got you, ok? Can I clean you up?" 

Steve nods. "Please."

God. Eddie's heart is in pieces right now. He's so sad and so angry at the same time. He wants to storm into the Harrington's house and beat the shit out of Richard Harrington. 

He remembers seeing Steve walking around in school. Hidden bruises that no one seemed to notice. But Eddie did. 

He's going to kill that motherfucker.

But not right now. 

Right now he's going to take Steve to the bathroom in their tiny apartment. And he's going to clean him up and patch his cut. And he's going to take him to bed, to cuddle him and whisper in his hair how much he loves him. 

How he's the best thing that has ever happened to him. How Steve makes him so, so happy. How he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. 

But tomorrow? Tomorrow he's going to make sure no one hurts Steve ever again. 

[hawkinsbnbg]

nightingales

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 13: "Please, stay."

tags: mutual pining, mildly dub-con, slight daddy kink (1 word), hurt/comfort, hookups to lovers, idiots in love, post ss2/post starcourt

rated: M | words: 3k | ao3

"Please stay."

That halted Eddie's movements briefly. Only briefly. And then he resumed zipping up his flies and buckling his belt as if nothing had been said.

Eddie's heart trembled in his chest, begging him to obey the voice of his Adonis, but he resisted. Because he had gone into this with his eyes wide open and head cleared of any delusional thoughts.

He knew his place, knew how to get his job done, knew what parts to hide safely away from prying eyes and protruding ears, knew just the way to make every night worth the time.

And knew he wouldn't find real love in one Steve Harrington—the town's sweetheart and golden boy—however lovely their rendezvouses had been so far.

"You're drunk, Harrington," he dared a look over his shoulder, sighing when he found the bane of his existence was already snoring softly.

Unable to help himself, Eddie cursed under his breath and stepped over to the bed once more to tuck Steve under the blanket neatly, safe and sound, and lingered for a bit to admire how young and carefree Steve looked while asleep.

Mouth slacked, eyes closed peacefully, features softened from all the edges, so unlike the bone-deep exhaustion that clouded those pretty hazels with gloomy shadows.

At least, after their little arrangement started, Steve seemed to have benefited from it judging by the lack of his heavy eye bags.

Two months ago, Steve had come asking for something to help him sleep and somehow left with a bag of weed after blowing Eddie's brain out.

It was so surreal that Eddie thought he had hallucinated the whole thing while high off his ass.

Except, Steve kept seeking him out, going from paying for drugs with intense blowjobs to something more, something Eddie could give him without affecting the Munson household's finances.

Since then, Steve would wait for him at the Harrington's residence considering it was easier and safer that way, and Eddie would do his best to pound Steve so good he would conk out by the time they were done.

And yet, more often than not, Steve would already have taken a few swigs from daddy dearest's pricey liquors and would be quite tipsy by the time Eddie arrived.

Not that Eddie hated it. He was obsessed with a tipsy Steve actually. Because tipsy Steve was always sweeter, more open and pliant with everything Eddie gave him, more expressive and vocal in a way that made Eddie weak on the knees.

Then again, tipsy Steve also got quite a loose mouth.

He asked for things Eddie would be dying to give him, he said things that were too good to be true, he sang Eddie's name like prayers, and he always begged Eddie to stay.

None of that helped Eddie's stupid heart to stay at bay at all. Because the moment Steve's pretty mouth pressed on his ear and whispered "Daddy", he was a goner.

Nonetheless, Eddie hadn't survived to this day to not being aware of how dangerous Steve Harrington was.

A rich straight boy who was curious about the world around himself. Who would stamp on Eddie's heart once he got bored and decided to move on. Who would leave Eddie behind to go get a perfect family with a beautiful wife, two kids and a half, and a white-picket-fenced house.

It didn't take Eddie long to make up his mind.

He looked at Steve once more before turning on his heels to leave the room, somehow feeling less hollow and cold after two months of witnessing them together.

So long as Steve needed him, he would be there. And Eddie would make himself sacred when the time came.

———

"Stay the night?"

Eddie glanced up from the task in his hands—wiping Steve down with a warm washcloth—and smiled humorlessly.

"You know I can't, Harrington."

"Why, though?" Steve asked softly, eyes still hazy and bottom lip jutting out petulantly.

"My uncle will worry sick if I stay overnight outside," Eddie offered a half-truth considering Wayne had stopped giving him curfews since he started dealing.

"I'm flattered you wanna keep me in your chamber, princess," he leaned forward to press a kiss on Steve's forehead. "But I gotta go."

For a fleeting moment, Steve seemed sobered up enough to regard him with an unreadable look, like he could see right through Eddie's lie.

But the moment just passed as quickly as it came when Steve let out a teary yawn that shouldn't be as endearing as it was.

"Good night," Eddie whispered as he pulled the blanket up to cover his sleepy boy.

"G'night," Steve smiled, small and sweet, and was off to dreamland within seconds, leaving Eddie sitting by his side and gazing at him longingly.

———

When Steve wasn't drunk, he would be more tense and on guard, which Eddie could completely understand given their circumstances.

What Eddie couldn't understand, though, was that Steve still asked him to stay.

"I, uhm, have nightmares," Steve averted his eyes, he did that a lot lately, like he was afraid Eddie would figure out the secret in them if he looked too long. "It'll help to have someone hold me while I sleep."

It was so sly of him to use that card on Eddie, knowing full well how much of a bleeding heart Eddie was.

Therefore, Eddie knew the decision had been made for him even before he opened his mouth.

"Alright, I'll stay, but only 'til you fall asleep."

It was the right and wrong thing to say.

Eddie realized with great displeasure that he didn't like the way Steve's eyes dimmed right after having brightened up just seconds ago.

When Eddie left that night, he tried to not think about the disappointment on Steve's face when the younger boy woke up to his cold side of the bed in the morning.

(He failed.)

———

Steve didn't ask him to stay anymore.

And Eddie pretended that it didn't crush his heart just a bit when Steve refused to receive the aftercare.

In response, Eddie simply fucked him harder for that so he wouldn't have any strength left to protest by the end of it.

It was worth all the glares and pouts Steve shot his way when he just gave up on the charade after a while and let Eddie take care of him again.

"Stay, please?"

It was said so quietly, and if Eddie wasn't always paying attention to Steve, he wouldn't be able to catch it at all.

Eddie swallowed dryly, wanting nothing more than to return to Steve's side and scoop him in a cuddle until they both drifted off in each other's arms.

But reality was always cruel. And Eddie had learned that the hard way. He couldn't afford to make mistakes now when everything had been going smoothly so far. Especially when his traitorous heart was constantly on the verge of running away from him.

"I can't–"

"Sorry," Steve let out a sigh. "Just... Just forget about it."

When Eddie finished dressing, he turned to look at Steve and was greeted by a sun-kissed back.

He squashed the urge to come closer and run his fingers on it, mapping out the constellations and tracing love lyrics with his lips on those moles and freckles.

Instead, he walked over to the door and saw himself out.

"Have a sweet dream, Stevie."

He lingered a bit, only leaving once he was sure Steve had fallen asleep.

———

They didn't meet quite often anymore. Steve was busy with his summer job and Eddie was well... hung up on the what-ifs.

What if Steve was also a trailer kid? What if Eddie wasn't a drug dealer? What if they both came from normal families that loved and accepted them for who they were? What if then?

Eddie liked to think they would always meet each other at some point in their lives no matter what the circumstances. Eddie liked to think they were star-crossed lovers who couldn't get together because of the period they were living in. Eddie liked to think Steve also loved him back.

And yet, Eddie had seen Steve flirt with endless girls at Scoop Ahoy, making eyes with some guys who looked like college jocks, who could guarantee him a good time once he dropped Eddie like a sack of potatoes.

Eddie had stood on the sideline and watched with burning, acidic jealousy as Steve threw his charm carelessly at everything that could breathe and walk on two legs.

When Steve turned to look at him with that same charming smile, Eddie realized it was time for him to wake up from his dream.

And so he did.

———

"Can you come tonight, Eddie?"

"Sorry, man, I've gotta sell all of this new stuff by the end of tonight 'cause the bills are due next week, ya know?"

"'S okay. Uhm, see you later?"

"See you later."

———

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I have band practice until midnight. And Wayne will be home by the time I'm done. So..."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Uh-huh."

"Rain check?"

"Rain check."

———

Eddie turned up the volume of his music until it drowned out the ringing of the phone.

———

Eddie bit his nails, watching Steve's beamer park outside the Mayfield's trailer, watching him talking and laughing with that red-haired little girl, watching him finally get back into the car and drive away once the sun set.

He didn't know if he should feel relieved or disappointed when Steve never looked at the Munson Trailer once.

———

Eddie jolted up by the sharp knocks on the trailer's door. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only two am, too early for the police's raid and too late for his customers to linger outside.

There was only one answer to that and he hoped Franklin would be cowed away by a broken beer bottle just like the other night.

Stumbling out of his bed and pulling up his jeans hastily, he blearily thanked his lucky star that Wayne wasn't home yet.

Because for all the patience the older man had, he didn't doubt Wayne would pull the shotgun on Franklin and well, Eddie wouldn't be sorry for the drunken bastard but he didn't want Wayne to get involved in his mess too much.

On his way, Eddie picked up his weapon from under the couch as he passed by it and marched straight to the door.

When he threw it open, scowling and ready to swing at his enemy, he was greeted by not Franklin but Steve Harrington instead.

Eddie faltered, feeling sick with worry and cold dread as he took in the sight of the younger boy.

"Jesus Christ," he dropped the bottle, ignoring the clang! it made on the floor, to hover his hands over Steve's face. "What the fuck had happened to you, Harrington?"

Steve honest-to-god giggled.

"S'not important anymore," he slurred and swayed on his feet, eyes swollen in purple and red, face caked in blood and bruises and scratches. He was a bloody mess.

Eddie pulled him inside as gently as possible, trying to stay level-headed for both Steve and himself because it wouldn't do either of them any good if he panicked now.

Carefully, Eddie guided Steve to the couch, flipping on just the lamp on the side table, knowing from experience that too much light would cause discomfort to someone who had just got beaten to a pulp.

He poured Steve a glass of water, watching him drink it slowly before getting up to retrieve the quick aid kit, clean towel, and wash his hands thoroughly with soap in the bathroom.

Once he was done cleaning the cuts on Steve's face, he applied some antiseptic cream on the injured areas—which didn't look that bad after the blood was gone.

During the whole time, Steve remained oddly silent, eyes slightly glazed over like being high or in shock, just watching Eddie do all the work and only letting out a few quiet hisses when the cuts burned.

Eddie had apologized plenty for that, wishing he could share half of the pain Steve was feeling at the moment.

Then he asked Steve about the other possible injuries and concussions, not wanting to overlook anything and receiving a simple "Yes" to both questions.

("Christ, we should bring you to the hospital, Stevie."

"No, no hospital. Please."

"... Have you had anyone besides me checked your injuries, yet?"

"Uh, yeah, the paramedics. They cleared me after a bit. 'Cause there's nothing really bad, though.")

"Can I sleep now?" Steve sniffed, sounding small and lost, making Eddie's heart ache terribly.

"Not yet, Bambi," Eddie smiled softly when those pitiful doe eyes looked at him. "We gotta bathe you first, wash away these dirt and grimes before bringing you to bed."

And he wasn't lying, either. Wherever Steve had been all night had soiled his cute sailor uniform and turned him into a real Cinderella.

"C'mon," Eddie guided him up with a hand around his waist while ducked to shoulder one of his arms. "The quicker we do it, the sooner you can get your beauty sleep."

Fortunately, Steve didn't protest and allowed Eddie to half-carry him all the way into the bathroom.

———

Eddie took in a sharp inhale when he got to see the damage beneath Steve's clothes. It was far more severe than he had anticipated and he wondered if the paramedics would've let Steve go had they seen this.

Sighing inwardly, Eddie used a washcloth and gently scrubbed all the mud and blood off Steve's body, shushing the younger boy softly when he whimpered at the stings and dull aches.

Eddie had half a mind to kiss them better, but he reined in his desire to soothe Steve's pain and concentrated on making the shower as short as possible.

By the time they left the bathroom, Steve was trembling minutely but the fog in his eyes had dissipated and he seemed more conscious than when he appeared on the Munson Trailer's front porch.

After putting on one of Eddie's old Metallica tees and a pair of red flannel pants by himself, Steve ran a hand through his dampened hair and gave Eddie a crooked smile.

"Sorry for bothering you this late."

"I wanted to help," Eddie corrected him quickly.

"Of course, I know you would," Steve swallowed, eyes flickering back and forth from Eddie's eyes to his pale tattooed chest. "But I'm still sorry for having turned up without calling ahead. I was lucky enough I didn't ruin your uncle's sleep."

"He'd do the same for you, you know that right?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, chest tight with possessiveness at the sight of Steve wearing his clothes, standing in his bedroom, and smelling of his shampoo.

"Look," Steve spoke up before Eddie could say anything. "I gotta go now."

"No," Eddie reached for Steve's hand and held on it tightly. "You're not going anywhere."

"Why?"

Eddie clicked his tongue in mild annoyance, wanting to know what made Steve think it was wise to sleep without supervision while having a concussion and cracked ribs.

"I'm not letting you go back to your place alone like this."

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, a hint of King Steve peeking through the veil. He tried to pull his hand back but gave up once he realized Eddie wouldn't let him go.

He settled with a tired sigh instead.

"I don't want your pity, Munson."

"I'm not pitying you."

"So what is this?" Steve hissed as he raised his captured wrist and shook it lightly for emphasis.

Eddie only tightened his grasp further, paranoid that Steve would slip through his fingers like sand.

"It's not pity," Eddie met those hazel eyes, still burning with that same fire he always loved. He brought Steve's hand to his lips, pressing shaky kisses on those bruised knuckles.

He still wanted to run away. But the idea of leaving Steve caused him such unbearable pain that he just knew would break him down if he ever did it again.

"I care for you, Steve," his voice cracked as he confessed quietly, "I care for you a lot."

Steve breathed in sharply, eyes glassy with unshed tears and lips quivered.

"Then why did you never stay?" He asked softly. "Why did you always leave even when I begged you not to?"

Eddie stepped in closer and used his free hand to hold on to Steve's as well.

"'Cause I was scared, sweetheart," he whispered. "Scared of having my heart broken. 'Cause I knew, always do, that I don't deserve pretty things like you. That I can't give you all the good things that you deserve."

"So I'm begging you now," he blinked away his tears and looked at Steve beseechingly.

"You don't have to–"

"Please, stay," he pleaded. "Please give me another chance to show you how much you matter to me. Please trust me to make it right this time. Please."

Steve became worryingly silent at that. But Eddie still waited patiently, knowing it was a lot to take it all at once. Even Eddie himself was reeling from what he just said.

"You ignored my calls."

"I'm sorry."

"You always left although I begged you not to."

"I'm sorry."

"You lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't tell me what I did wrong," Steve mumbled, lips wobbling and nose turned pink.

That cut him deep.

"No, sweetheart, no," Eddie tugged him closer and embraced him gently, heart swelling with fondness when Steve melted in his arms.

"You did nothing wrong, baby, it's all my fault," Eddie sniffled, walking them both to his bed carefully. "I'm so sorry for making you think that way."

As Steve let out a wounded noise and started shaking with small sobs, Eddie cried with him and stroked his back soothingly, knowing he would kill and die for this boy in a heartbeat, knowing that he could never not be in love with Steve Harrington.

When they finally settled on the mattress together, Eddie spooned Steve from behind and pressed kisses everywhere he could reach.

Steve giggled quietly, too exhausted to say anything but still leaning into Eddie's warmth all the same.

Eddie knew they still had a lot to discuss to make their newly found relationship really work, but as he listened to Steve's soft snoring, he was certain they would be fine this time.

As long as they were together.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 7: Moonlight

wc: 792 | Rated: M | cw: Smoking

Tags: Steve Harrington Angst, Post-Coital, Aftercare (Kinda, it's more about Steve wanting aftercare), The Beemer, Hooking Up, Undefined Relationship, Angst With a Happy Ending

'Like Clockwork'

Steve shimmies to a seated position but doesn’t bother hitching his jeans up. The Beemer’s windows are all clammy and misted now, despite the clear and warm summer’s night.

He swipes a sweaty palm over the window to reveal a brilliant moonlit night cast out over the abandoned cornfield he parked in. Steve looks up at the moon, resting his head against the cool glass, turning just enough so that his flushed cheek can get some relief.

He still feels hot all over, his body still tingling with after sensations. It’s a feeling Steve has relished each and every Thursday night this summer. Sitting here, all sated and a little sleepy, his own spend drying tacky on his tummy as his partner wriggles about beside him.

No – not his ‘partner’.

Not his boyfriend, either.

Friend? Fuck buddy?

Whatever Eddie is, he is indeed, squirming about like he always does afterwards. More accurately, he is ass up as he searches in the front cab for wherever his jacket and smokes got to.

Like clockwork, he’ll offer Steve one when he finds them. And, as always, Steve will decline with a burning sensation in his throat that runs the length of the fading scar on his neck.

They’ll get dressed with great efficiency, handing each other misplaced clothes, slipping on shoes and tossing anything else aside before they get back into the front of the car. Steve will drive back into Hawkins township as Eddie fiddles with the radio dial and offers commentary about every station.

Then, he will drop Eddie home and watch him skip inside, where the guy surely offers up some excuse to his uncle as to his whereabouts.

Steve will then head home and slip in through the back door to avoid his parents. He’ll fall asleep half-undressed and wake to the sounds of his alarm clock radio with thoughts of next Thursday night. Like clockwork – like he is Marty McFly, or something.

And that’s the problem, Steve thinks as he looks up at the moon.

“A-ha!” Eddie exclaims, plopping back into position next to him and shaking the whole back seat.

He sits close enough that their bare, sweat-sheened arms touch flush together. It makes Steve tingle in a way that is the complete opposite of what happened mere minutes ago. He tears his eyes away from the bright moonlight to find Eddie reaching out, like clockwork.

Steve frowns.

“No,” he says, unable to help the way it comes out, all strained and small.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The thing is, Steve liked it in the beginning. Maybe even loved it. And it’s not like he hadn’t done this kind of thing. He had parked out in this very field in his precious cars plenty of times. Sometimes because his parents were home. Others because every makeout spot in town was occupied.

At one point, it was part of King Steve’s famed repertoire.

And he still likes most of it. The sex. The feeling of Eddie all over him – in him. Filling him up and touching him and giving him everything until it all spills over.

Eddie tosses over his maroon polo (the move that always comes after the offer of a smoke) and Steve balls it up in his fist.

“I want to… Cuddle and... be warm.”

He hates that his voice breaks at the end of it and he hugs in on himself, twisting his shirt up with him.

And Eddie moves closer still and reaches to manoeuvre Steve’s jeans all the way up.

“We’ll go back to my house, Big Boy,” he says as a small, cheeky smile tugs at the corners of his lips when he gets to tucking Steve back into his underwear, “I’m gonna wrap you up all tight and cozy in my bed, even if I have to sneak you in through the window.”

Steve has no idea where Eddie’s pack of cigarettes got to after that. He simply tossed them aside, insisting that he drive them both back to the trailer.

They sneak inside, past Wayne who is asleep in his armchair as an episode of Dragnet plays on the television. Eddie supplies Steve with some makeshift pyjamas – loose sweatpants (black, of course) and a band T-shirt.

Steve doesn’t know the band, but he likes it anyway. Just like the way he feels as Eddie curls in close behind him, holding him tight as he positions the two of them on his cramped single bed.

He thinks he might love Eddie as the guy leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek.

No, he does love Eddie, Steve knows as he shuts his eyes, their two intertwined bodies illuminated by the moonlight peaking in through the blinds.

[steddieangstyaugust]

Event Schedule!

Music Monday 🎵

Please Please Please, Let Me Get What I Want – The Smiths

Terrible Things – Mayday Parade

Careless Whisper – George Micheal

The Night We Met – Lord Huron

Teary Tuesday 🥺

"Who did this?"

"Please, stay?"

"I didn't know where else to go."

"I thought we agreed it was over."

Wordy Wednesday ⌨️

Moonlight

Lake

Please

Tomorrow

Trope Thursday 🎭

Second Chance

Miscommunication

Childhood

Missing Scene

Future

Freaky Friday 🦇

Ghosts

Upside Down

Halloween

Skull Rock

Vampire

Speaking Saturday 🗣️

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

“Where were you?”

"Keep breathing, please."

"Go, see if I care."

"I'm not going to beg you to love me."

Sobbing Sunday 😭

Angst with a Happy Ending

Temporary Character Death

Right Person, Wrong Time

Soulmates

Can't believe we're less than a month until the beginning of this event! This is the first event I've ever run and I'm so excited!! Stay tuned for the event rules post for extra details! In the meantime, I hope the prompts get those writing worms flowing!

Rules & FAQ

Ao3 Collection

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 31: "I'm not going to beg you to love me."

It's not the first time Eddie's been in love, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

He made the mistake of telling a boy once when he was younger, his nose is still a little crooked because of it. It doesn't stop him falling for the beautiful person that Steve Harrington has become.

He won't tell him though, wouldn't risk the friendship he cherishes so dearly over something so silly like the way his heart beats out of his chest when Steve just smiles at him. Steve is straight, he loves girls with soft cheeks and long lashes. Eddie is sharp and jagged compared to them, Steve could never want him.

It doesn't stop him dreaming though. He lets himself think how nice it would be if Steve shared his bed every night and not just when they've smoked too much weed. Tells himself it doesn't mean anything when Steve comes to every show, he's just being a good friend. Jokes around when Steve throws back the same amount of flirting, Steve is just affectionate.

He never expected Steve to kiss him.

For a moment he kissed back, too lost in the feeling to realise this wasn't a dream this was real and it would break his heart.

So he forces himself to push Steve away.

"Wait, Steve, stop."

There's a cute scrunch between Steve's eyebrows, "I'm sorry I should've asked first, did you not want me to kiss you, I just thought..."

Doesn't Steve understand, "No, Steve you don't want this, you can't want this, you're confused."

The confusion on Steve's face morphs into anger, "Confused? I'm not confused Eddie, I care about you, I like you, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you!"

Eddie gets up from the couch, "No, you don't, you like girls, Steve, you love girls, you don't love me, this was a mistake."

Steve pinches his nose, a habit Eddie knows means Steve is trying not to cry, "I'm not going to beg you to love me." Steve moves towards the door grabbing his shoes and jacket. "You know I thought you were different, Robin let me believe you were different, that you weren't Nancy, that you weren't my parents. I thought you cared about me, that you loved me too. But I'm not going to stay and be told what my heart is or isn't feeling, Eddie."

Eddie thinks he can pinpoint the exact moment he realises how bad he fucked up, somewhere between different and loved he realises how mistake sounds just like bullshit.

It's too late though, Steve's car is already gone, and this is why he doesn't fall in love, no matter what he does he always fucks it up. He just hopes he can get Steve to forgive him before Robin breaks his nose again.

[medusapelagia]

14 The betrothal

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Lake), @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: prince and princess ), @aug-kissed (prompt: Hand Kiss) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Beta Robin Buckley, violence, blood and injuries, vomit Words: 1563

If Steve was a proper omega he wouldn't be on that stupid carriage, to be shipped from Loch Nora's Kingdom to Forest Park like an unwanted pack.

A proper omega would honor his family, stay home, cross-stitch animals and flowers, and learn poems and music. But Steve never was a proper omega and after he rejected his last suitor his father told him that he wasted his last opportunity to choose a proper alpha and that he was going to find one willing to take in a rebel omega like him.

Male omegas are a blessing and a curse: they are very rare, so Steve's father was able to ask for a high dowry from whoever wanted to marry him, but there weren't many alphas willing to tie their life to a male omega. 

Steve has heard talking about Forest Park. A lot. And never in a good way.

They have a very bad reputation, but they are rich, so Steve has no doubt that his father got a really good dowry for selling him to those people. Well, not selling, betrothing him.

Thankfully, Robin is coming with him. Moving from one Kingdom to another and being completely alone would have been terrible, at least his beta best friend is trying to make him laugh by making silly comments and distract him from the long journey.

Even if the carriage is big and cozy, spending hours sitting on a carriage isn't that comfortable, and Steve's royal ass is in pain.

He doesn't even have enough space to stretch his long legs because in the carriage with them, there are the two guards King Munson himself sent to escort the future bride.

The guards are heavily armed, as they were expecting something to happen, and Steve isn't totally surprised. After all, Forest Hill has a terrible reputation. Their King was an outlaw before he rebelled and became king by killing everyone and conquering the castle, so Steve isn't really looking forward to moving in the same bed with a notorious assassin. But it’s not his choice anymore.

Savages, that's the kindest word Steve’s mom used to define those people, while what everyone thought but none dared to speak out loud was that King Munson was the new Warlord.

A warlord. Not a high-born, just a man with enough power and money to hire the strongest knight and mercenaries to help him keep his power. And Steve is going to get married to a Warlord’s son, or nephew, he's not really sure. Bloodlines are mixed in their Kingdom and they don't give a fuck about dynasties and the only blood that they care about is the one the blood spit by their enemies.

Steve has heard terrible stories about how cruel and violent those people are. One of Steve's servants has told him that Prince Munson killed his first wife with his own hands because she wasn't too sick to give him a child.

Being a male omega Steve knows he can bear pups, even if his heats are irregular and it's harder for him than for other omegas, but he never thought that the ability to bear a child or not could have been the cause of his premature death.

His scent gets sour and acrid while he thinks about the monster that he's supposed to wed. Maybe he should have been more pliant with his previous suitor. Lord Hagan wasn’t that bad after all. A little bit too presumptuous for Steve’s taste but he doubts he would have had him killed if he wasn’t able to bear a child.

"You ok? Do you want to take a break? Stretch your legs a bit?" Robin proposes, drawing soothing circles with her thumb on Steve's hand.

"Yeah, that would be nice." He confirms, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"No break and no stretching. We are still in hostile territory." One of the guards replies without even looking at Steve.

"Couldn't we stop just for a moment?" Robin insists, "We have been on this stupid carriage for hours!"

But an arrow flying through the window and ending his journey a few inches from her face makes her shut up.

"Stay down!" One guard yells, yanking Steve toward the carriage’s floor so abruptly that he falls badly on his own wrist, spraining it, but he doesn't have time to yelp because the carriage stops in the middle of the woods.

"Stay inside!" The first guard yells, jumping out of the carriage and drawing his sword. For a moment Steve catches a glimpse of a bloodied body staring blankly at him with a long arrow in the one eye socket.

"It's ok. It's ok." Robin tries to soothe him, releasing beta relaxing pheromones, but the other guard stops her, complaining that he can't afford to get relaxed by her pheromones, so Steve and Robin hug each other, trying to hide themselves from the attackers.

"He's here!" Someone yells, kicking the carriage door open, but the second guard is quick to pierce the intruder from side to side, what he wasn't expecting was someone else opening the door on the opposite side and grabbing Steve with no kindness, yanking him by his hair.

Robin screams, reaching out toward Steve, the guard turns his head just for a moment and another attacker takes his chance to stab him in the leg while Robin keeps screaming, but the clenching of the metal armor is so loud that Steve almost can't hear her.

A strong hit on the back of his head makes everything turn a warm black and he loses consciousness.

***

When he opens his eyes, Steve is surprised to find himself resting with his back against a big oak tree. In front of him the bluest lake he ever saw.

He puts down his hand, trying to get up, but immediately desists when a bright pain makes him whimper.

"I would stay put if I were you. Your wrist is sprained and you took a nasty hit to the head. Are you feeling dizzy?"

Steve startles, looking around himself, and finally finds a tall man with dark eyes and a nasty scar on his face staring at him with an amused smile.

His kidnapper!

The omega tries to crawl backward, but the unknown man is right, his wrist hurts too much and he still feels lightheaded.

"I think I'm going to puke…" he mutters, before turning on his side and emptying his stomach on the green grass.

Surprisingly, his kidnapper is quickly at his side, holding his hair out of his face, whispering encouraging words while he holds him to his chest with one arm.

When Steve's body gets limp into the kidnapper's arms, he takes a moment to breathe in his scent.

Embers and earth.

An alpha.

A proper omega should never be left alone with an alpha who's not family!

Steve tries to wriggle out of the stranger's hold, but he gently chuckles and pushes Steve's neck closer to the scent gland on his neck, "You're fine, omega. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm betrothed." He objects in a soft voice, while the alpha pheromones make him pliant and docile.

"That's what you're worried about? your honor?" The unknown alpha chuckles. 

He has a nice laugh, Steve decided in his drugged state of mind, and he smells delicious. No other alpha ever smelled so good to him.

Steve must have said something because a very pleased rumble comes from the alpha's chest.

"You don't smell bad yourself, sweetheart." 

Steve should be ashamed of himself, but the alpha's sturdy body is holding him tight and for the first time in his life he feels safe in an alpha's embrace.

"That's good. Come on, sip some water for me to wash away that bad taste."

The omega prince doesn't really know if the alpha is using his alpha's voice, or if he's already scentdrunk or whatever, but the only thing he wants to do is obey this alpha.

Steve spits a few times to clean his mouth from the horrible taste and then drinks some water, while the alpha keeps holding him tight.

The man’s wearing a beaten armor, stained with blood, and for a moment Steve wonders if he will kill him, but the way he keeps holding him makes him think that he’s affected by Steve’s scent as he is from his.

They aren't left alone for long. When Steve turns his head someone is riding toward them. Too many people.

Steve turns toward the alpha with eyes wide with worry, "You have to go. My future husband will kill you. He's a warlord! He won't be pleased you kidnapped me!"

"Kidnapped?" The alpha asks, staring with confusion at the omega, feeling Steve's head with gentle fingers, "How badly did they hurt you, omega?" he asks worriedly, and this time is Steve's turn to frown in confusion.

“I might not look so but I’m a prince. And I was on my way to wed the Forest Park’s Warlord's son. If they catch you, they’ll kill you.”

Eddie bursts out in a loud laugh, shaking Steve who quietly complains of being jostled by the huge Alpha's body.

"Let me introduce myself," the alpha says, grabbing Steve's uninjured hand and kissing the palm of his hand in the most chivalrous way, "I'm Edward Munson, King Munson's nephew, your betrothal." 

[changenameno]

Sausage (Prequel)

(Complete)

Summary: It’s your birthday. Normally you don’t celebrate it much, but this year you wanted to throw a party just because. Inviting your best friend August, while knowing that he and your husband Sy hated each other, should have prepared you for the mess. Well unfortunately it didn’t…

 

Paring: Syverson x Fem. Reader, August Walker x Fem. Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, crying, cursing, blood, fistfight, screaming, angsty, OC fem. best friend Melinda, oh god loads of crying and hurt, buuut fluffy ending I promise! oral sex (fem. receiving), threesome, p in v, praising, pet names

Word count: 4.8K

A/N: This can be read before ‘Sausage’ (link at the end). Sorry for the long wait… I really hope those asking for more ‘background’, will like this and it is what you had in mind?

As always all mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you and enjoy!❤️✨

 

 

! Neither August nor Syverson are my creation!

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So far your birthday party was exactly as you wished. A lot of friendly faces celebrating your existence, chatting, dancing, drinking and having fun while being at your place- your newly bought house to be exact.

 

 

Only minor inconvenience your sulking husband sitting on the couch, while burning holes in the back of August’s head.

 

 

You were in the middle of opening Melinda’s present, as she had insisted you open hers’ first, when you spotted Sy looking all sullen and annoyed. So you quickly thanked Melinda for her thoughtful gift, before you went over to where your husband sat, plopping down beside him.

 

 

The movement caused him to look away from your best friend, his glare immediately turned into a sheepish smile when he glanced at you, knowing very well he had be caught.

 

 

“You were doing it again,” you chided him.

 

 

He sighed, while pulling you against his side, “Well yeah, it’s just, ya know… he just-“

 

 

You looked at him sternly, “He’s just what? August is over there enjoying his drink and the company of Maria… while you are what? Sulking on the couch during my birthday party and staring daggers at him?!”

 

 

At the end of your accusation you had raised your voice, the frustration had gotten the better of you. For years now Sy had hated August and vice versa. Which wasn’t something you appreciated, especially because they were the two men on the planet meaning the most to you. And every time they were at each other’s throats, it tore at your heart. Just this once you had hoped they would get along, at least for you, on your birthday.

 

 

Sy winced at your tone but tried to explain anyway, “He’s doin’ it out of spite, just to rile me up.”

 

 

Getting angrier still, you shoved Sy’s shoulder so he’d let go of his half hug and you could look him square in the face, “What exactly is he doing?! He hasn’t even talked to me, apart from the brief ‘hello’ at the beginning!”

 

 

His eyebrows pulled together, the first sign of his own frustration, seeping into his expression, “Ya have to understand, he’s doin’ that to prove he ain’t interested in ya. He’s just pretendin’ to want Maria, so you’d think I’m paranoid or somethin’. Don’t ya see?!”

 

 

Incredulously you shook your head at him, while he pulled at his beard in irritation. As you stood up, you pinned him with your withering glare, “I will not hear another word about this matter-“

 

 

He shot up, interrupting you, “But-“

 

You cut him off with a hand held up, hissing, “No. No but’s. Not. Tonight.”

Then you whirled around without another look at your husband. Heading for the staircase leading up to a bathroom and two bedrooms, as you needed a breather and some privacy to calm you down.

 

 

When you reached the bedroom to the right, you quickly entered and pulled the door shut behind you, signing loudly into the darkness of the room. Your heart constricted painfully inside your chest, as you slid down, with your back pressed to the wooden door. Knees pulled close, you rested your head against them, tying to keep the tears at bay. You just wanted them to get along. You loved them both dearly. And while yes, Sy was right about August, he didn’t understand that you would never do anything to hurt him.

 

 

You had known your best friend wanted to be something more with you, even before you had met Sy. But August had never acted upon it, flirt with you? – Oh yes. Go out with you? – Hell no. You had waited and waited for years but he had never made his move. Not once asking you who you fancied. Even though the answer would have been in his favour. And then you had met Sy at a frat party.

 

 

Slowly but surely he had weaved his way into your heart, the part that was holding out for August getting smaller and smaller. And yet, never disappeared completely.

 

 

Though you hadn’t married Sy as a second or subpar choice. You’d never do something like that. No. You had married him because you truly loved him.

 

 

But your stupid heart loved August an equal amount.

 

 

You knew it wasn’t ideal, far from it. But you also knew you couldn’t have both men, even though you loved them both.

 

Every time they argued, angrily yelling, making their hatred known, it tore at the hole in your heart. Fearing someday there would be nothing left of the tortured, beating muscle inside your chest.

 

 

As you sat there on the floor, thinking about the two men, the tears suddenly started rolling down your cheeks on their own accord, not being able to hold them back any longer.

 

No matter how often you wiped them away, new tears would well up in your eyes, like an endless ocean of despair trying to leave your body. Before you knew it, you were full on sobbing. That’s why you didn’t hear the commotion at first.

 

 

When you tried to breathe in, you flinched at the scream coming from downstairs.

 

 

“NO! NO! STOP IT!!”

 

 

At once you had flung the door open, running to the staircase. And the scene below, made your heart stop for a second.

 

 

August and Sy were swinging at each other. Sy’s fist had apparently already hit it’s mark, as August’s nose was bleeding profoundly.

 

 

Melinda had been the one to scream, as she and others looked on in fear, not wanting to actually, physically intervene, too afraid to get in the middle of the two burly men.

 

 

August’s fist collided with you husband’s face next, making you take in a sharp breath, freezing, standing on the middle of the stairs. Sy shoved him away, angrily growling, “You BASTARD STAY AWAY FROM US!”

 

 

Just as angry August spat back, “NEVER!!”

 

 

Before they could lung at each other again, you stormed down the last few steps, not thinking much as you jumped in between them.

 

 

Holding out your hands, shrieking, “STOP IT! RIGHT NOW!”

 

 

You didn’t know who, it had happened to fast, but someone or both of them had shoved you so hard to the side, you stumbled back and crashed into the couch table with a deafening crack, as the glass split beneath. Luckily the impact made you fall to the side, only lightly hitting your head on the couch, while a few shards cut into your skin.

 

 

Melinda was at your side before you could even get your bearings, “Oh my god, oh my god! Are you alright?”

 

 

She quickly helped you up, mindful of the glass shards surrounding you. Once you were standing, you noticed the eerie silence. Someone had finally turned off the music. Still reeling you stared blankly at the floor.

 

 

Your body ached tremendously, head pounding and blood rushing through your system at a neck breaking speed, when an unnatural cold voice cut into the silence, “Party is over. Everybody go. Now!” Only after the shuffling of feet, did you realize, it had been your own voice commanding everybody to leave. Your gaze lifted, though just slightly until you took in your trembling hands.

 

 

Without looking up, you knew nearly everyone had left, except Melinda, Sy and August.

 

 

August tried clearing his throat, about to say something, but one sharp look from you was enough to make the words die, right before he could form them.

 

 

His normally mirth filled eyes, conveyed nothing but regret as did the now teary Blues of your husband. This had been the last strike, you’ve had enough. If they were behaving like children, you were going to treat them like ones.

 

 

As calmly as you could, you began, “I’m going to stay at Melinda’s-“one brief glace at her face told you, she was on board with that, then you continued, -“until you two have talked. And only after you have resolved everything, will I return. Understood?”

 

 

Both nodded, knowing better to say anything else.

 

 

“Good. And clean up the mess you caused.”

 

 

Without further ado, you grabbed Melinda’s hand and left the house.

 

 

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After three days Sy had called your cell, wanting to know how you were doing, though you had been curt and had only asked, “Have you talked yet?”

 

 

“No. But bun, please-“

 

 

You had hung up immediately. Not wanting to hear him out.

 

 

The next day August had called with the same query and result.

 

 

“Darling, please-“

 

 

You had never been this angry with them, not necessarily because they had hurt you physically in the process, but because they had let it escalate to that level.

 

The following days you felt hollow and beside yourself. Like a ghost watching on, from the side lines, because all the hurt was simply too much to experience right now and all at once.

 

 

Then on the sixth day the door bell had rung and Melinda came to the guest room, an envelope clutched in her hands.

 

 

“Before you say no. I think, you should at least read it. Please?” The plea in her voice was palpable, as she continued, “It’s from them. And believe me as much as I want to hit ‘em myself, I’ve never seen them look so broken. And I can no longer stand to watch you, looking just as broken, okay? So please, just read it. That’s all I’m asking.”

 

 

Reluctantly you held out your hand and she carefully placed the envelope in your hands, before slowly backing out of the room, leaving you alone to read it.

 

You opened it, and started reading.

 

 

* Dear Bunny/Darling,

 

we’ve tried to clear the air between us. Truly. But we’ve reached an impasse.

Not because we are at each other’s throats again, that’s not it. But we all know there is something between you and August, it’s undeniable. He knows what he feels for you, as do I.

 

But where it gets hazy is your feelings. I hope you still love me, even though I’ve been acting like a ‘fucking prick’ (his words not mine, though I have to agree with him), though we don’t dare to hope, or guess, how you feel about August. Or how you want to proceed?

 

So please for the love of god, come home. I  WE need you.

 

We are so sorry for hurting and tormenting you.

 

You deserve better, we are willing to try and be better, for you, with you. WE are willing to try… just please come home. PLEASE!

 

Yours,

August & Sy *

 

 

WE are willing to try… What did they mean by that exactly?

 

 

Only one way to find out.

 

 

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

 

Opening the door to your own home, knowing what lay ahead wasn’t going to be easy, made the nerves inside you fizzle wildly. Heart beating erratically, when you shakily called out while entering, “I’m home!”

 

 

Once you’ve reached the living room, you locked eyes with Sy. He looked nearly relived before his facial muscles tightened all over again. He sat at the dinner table next to August who looked like he hadn’t slept in days and on further inspection, Sy’s eyes seemed just as tired.

 

 

August voice was quiet and unsure, “Please…um, sit?”

 

 

He gestured to the chair opposite them and you promptly sat down. Eyes flitting back and forth between them.

 

 

Sy’s normal rough rumble merely reduced to a weak whisper, “Are ya alright, bun?”

 

 

That was the final blow, the way these strong men looked as broken as you felt, made all the hurt of the past years tear at your heart. Desperately your hands clawed at your shirt, as if trying to rip the excruciatingly aching muscle from your chest, loud near panicked sobs leaving your quivering lips.

 

 

Nearly incoherently you cried, “I-I’m so-sorry… I don’t… want ‘o lo-se you. Ne-need bo-th o’ you…”

 

 

Warm strong arms suddenly surrounded you, lifting you up from your chair. Whoever it was holding you close, you clung to him desperately, not wanting to be let go. Then another body hugged you from behind, whispering soothing words, “Sh-Sh everythin’ is gonna be okay. We’ve got ya. We’ve got ya.”

 

 

“Not going anywhere. Promise.”

 

 

You didn’t know when they had moved you to the couch, but once you had calmed enough to take in your surroundings again, you noticed that you were sitting on Sy’s lap with August’s warm palm slowly stroking up and down your back.

 

 

Sniffling still, you tried apologising again, but as if he had read your mind August shook his head, “No, no need to apologise. At all. Not you, darling, we were the once acting atrocious. And we need to apologise.”

 

 

“N-o, I mean yes you were, but I also want to apologise. I’m so sorry.”

 

 

Sy weakly smiled down at you, “Love, what are ya even sorry for?”

 

 

You couldn’t meet his eyes, you couldn’t even say it out loud, instead opting for, “Everything.”

 

 

When his thumb and forefinger lifted your chin, he still wore the smile but big, fat tears rolled over his cheeks and into his beard.

“Ya love him, don’t ya?”

 

 

Nearly inaudible you breathed back, “Yes, I love him.”

 

 

Sy’s hand left your face and one glance at August’s tear-filled eyes, made you move. You jumped from your husband’s lap, though needing something to ground you, you took both their hands as you stood before them.

 

 

“No. Wait, this is not how I wanted this to go. Let me explain, I-“

 

Sy interrupted you, trying to pull his hand back, “No, need to explain, lo-ve.” On the last word his voice broke completely, as if saying it hurt him physically.

 

 

You didn’t let him pull away though, instead you clutched his hand even tighter, bringing the back of it to your lips, and pressing a kiss against his skin.

 

 

The overwhelm of all the different emotions bubbling to the surface, made your knees wobble, so before you could lose your footing once and for all, you kneeled down, facing them.

 

 

Tears were streaming down your own face, throat constricted, making it excitingly hard to say what you had practiced so carefully before coming here. But you needed to tell them exactly what you felt for them, so you closed your eyes and started to talk.

 

 

“I love both of you. Equally,” you stressed the last word to get your point across and then continued, “I want and need both of you. My heart can’t take it anymore. Neither one of you understands, but I NEED you BOTH. I can’t and didn’t choose one over the other, I’ve always loved you August. But Sy isn’t a second choice, he and you are my ONLY choice. Please, I-…I can’t live without one or the other.”

 

 

You opened your eyes again, once you finished. Sy’s and August’s gaze rested upon you, they shared a look, before they suddenly pulled you up by your hands and made you stumble against their chests. Nearly crushing you within their hug. Though their words, were even more impactful.

 

Sy rumbled, “Never lettin’ ya go, bun. Love ya too much for that.”

 

And then came the words you wanted and needed to hear most, “We both love you. We want to try darling. If you’ll have us both, we want a throuple.”

 

 

Sy felt the need to clarify, “A three-person-relationship. You, Walker and me. What do ya say, bun?”

 

 

Shuffling back on their thighs to actually see their faces, you beamed up at them, overcome with such pure happiness, you couldn’t contain your joy as you nodded vehemently, “Yes. Yes please, a thousand times yes!!”

 

 

Then you pulled both of them back into the hug, beginning to attack them with dozens of kisses, pressing your lips against every patch of skin you could reach. The rumbling laughter from the depth of their chests never sounded better.

 

 

🍑 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

 

After you had talked about everything for another hour or three, all the while you’d still sat astride their thighs, you came up with a wicked idea to celebrate your newly formed throuple.

 

 

“You know everything aside, you still kinda ruined my birthday party.”

 

 

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Sy apologised heartedly, “I-We are really sorry, love. What we did was unforgivable.”

 

 

August’s eyes zoned in and he noticed, you hadn’t meant to accuse them, not truly, because your face wasn’t sad or angry. No, actually you looked amused, so he dared to venture, “Mmh, not so sure about that. There is something we can do, to make you forgive us, isn’t there darling?”

 

 

You smirked wickedly at them, “Oh well, yes I thought about a way you could make it up to me.”

 

Sy had now caught onto your playful demeanour, and mirth sparkled in his eyes as he asked, “Tell us bun, how can we make it up to ya?”

 

 

Very slowly you slid from their thighs and stood up, beckoning them with your finger to follow you. When they stood as well you giggled and ran as fast as you could upstairs and into your bedroom.

Both apparently just as eager as you, appeared in the doorframe, the second you had sat down on the bed.

 

 

“Well what are you waiting for?” Patting the mattress beside you invitingly, got your point across just fine, because they immediately made their way over and came to a halt, towering over you. Feigning innocence you blinked up at them while pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it behind you.

 

 

August’s sharp intake of breath made Sy chuckle darkly, “Look at ‘im hasn’t seen much yet and already breathless. That’s how gorgeous ya look bun.”

 

 

Sy shrugged out of his own shirt, before he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, humming into your mouth as his tongue fought with yours passionately. Once he pulled away, he joined you on the bed, thick thighs caging you in on both sides from behind.

 

August had not only gotten rid of his shirt, he now stood in front of you in only his boxers, cock straining against the fabric deliciously. You reached out to touch his chest, teasingly trailing your fingertips down until you let them ghost over his impressive bulge and he groaned above you.

 

 

Sy’s fingers nimbly opened the hooks of your bra, cupping your tits in his giant hands while expertly pinching your erect nipples until you mewled.

 

“Argh fuck darling, you sound so sweet. Bet you taste as good as you sound?”

 

 

August’s eyes briefly flickered up to Sy’s face, asking for permission, but your husband had other plans. He nearly threw you onto the bed, which made you land on your back with a surprised shriek.

“What are yo-“

 

 

“Don’t ya worry your pretty little head bun.” Then he addressed August, “Gonna eat that drippin’ pussy and then you can get your dick wet. How does that sound, Walker?” He glanced at you, and you nodded enthusiastically, when August growled hungrily, “Sounds perfect.”

 

 

Sy opened your trousers, unceresmonly pulling them and your soaked panties right off your legs. As his sapphires landed between your legs it was his turn to growl lowly. At the animalistic noise, your hole clenched on its own volition, which didn’t escape their notice with their laser focused eyes pinned on your centre.

 

August stepped closer to the bed for a better view, when Sy lowered himself on his stomach, pulling your thighs apart to fit his broad shoulders between them. The first breath against your dripping cunt, had you bowing your back already.

 

 

“Such a messy girl and so responsive for us.”

 

You could only moan in response, because Sy had chosen that moment to swipe his fat tongue between your folds, gently nibbling on your clit. When he hummed in agreement to August’s statement, your thighs tried to close at the intense feeling, but your husband had already placed his hands on your legs to prevent your movement. Tutting he chided, “Ah, ah, bun. Your gonna take what we give ya, no movin’ away.”

 

 

You mewled again, as he suddenly began eating you out like a man starved, beard scratching the sensitive skin of your thighs, tongue dipping into your hole repeatedly, grunting at the delicious taste. Sy’s hips bucked against the mattress, desperately whishing he could fill you up already. Though he knew this time would be different, the low grunting to his right a reminder.

 

 

In your bliss you had closed your eyes, “Bun, open ‘em. Look at ‘im, puttin’ on a show for ya.” At that your eyes flew open, and true to his words, August indeed was a picture to behold. Fixing you with his heated stare, as his hand had slipped into his boxers, rubbing up and down his length. Only the tip visible every time his fist moved upwards.

 

 

You sighed, as Sy resumed the devouring of your cunt, “Mmmh, he’s…he’s big…”

 

August pupils were blown out, when he finally showed you his cock, stepping out of his boxers. While he wasn’t as girthy as Sy he was a bit longer than him. That had you biting your lip, as you imaged how he’d probably hit the very end of your pulsing pussy. Moaning loudly when your husband added a finger to the mix, beginning to stretch you, “Well better open ya up then, bunny. Lest ya can’t take ‘im completely.”

 

 

The noise that left you at that, sounded rather needy and high pitched, fingers clawing at the sheets. Sy added another finger, as you were more than ready, juices running down your thighs and into his beard. When he spread them, scissoring you open, he felt your pussy quivering around them. “Yeah, just like that sweet girl, come on my fingers.”

 

 

He buried them to the knuckles, pressing and circling your clit, until you keened loudly and came with a cry, clamping down on his thick fingers.

 

 

“Atta girl, just like that.”

Sy’s voice sounded strained and rougher than before. He slowly sat back on his knees, removing his glistening fingers. August cursed at the sight and then the unspeakable happened. Your husband roughly gripped August’s wrist, nearly making him fall over, before he shoved his fingers into his mouth.

 

 

You gaped at them. August seemed just as surprised as you, “Thought ya wanted a taste, Walker?”

 

That snapped him back out of his puzzlement, wickedly smirking at Sy as he began sucking on his fingers. You could have sworn your husband’s eyes grew a shade darker at the sensual display.

 

 

Only when August deemed the fingers thoroughly cleaned, did he pop off with a lewd sound, licking his lips for good measure. Still looking as Sy, he whispered, “Even sweeter than I imagined.”

 

 

You whimpered, warmth pooling between your legs, making you even slicker than before. That moved the attention back to you, making you feel like helpless prey about to be devoured by the lions, hungrily liking their maws.

 

 

“Up.” At Sy’s command you stared at him bewildered a moment too long, because a huge paw landed on your thigh. Pain delightfully blooming on your skin, as he repeated, “Up!”

 

Quickly you got up, scrambling to get your legs to work. “Walker lie down.”

 

August raised a dark brow at him, but to your surprise complied none the less. Now lying on his back, cock twitching impatiently, oozing precome across his hairy stomach.

 

 

You didn’t have to wonder long, what Sy wanted to do, as he had risen as well, removing the bothersome fabric to free his poor cock at last.

 

 

“Come ‘ere.”

 

You complied and as soon as you were within reach, Sy lifted you up. Manoeuvring you in a way that he could climb back onto the bed, easily dangling your body above August’s, as if you weighed nothing.

 

 

Having caught on to Sy’s plan, August scooted up on the mattress until his cock was perfectly positioned underneath your opening, hand holding it up, so you could sink right down on his length.

 

 

You felt like a ragdoll in Sy’s arms, completely at his mercy, as he held you right where he wanted you.

“Open them knees, bun.”

 

 

The second you did, he began lowering you. When August’s mushroom tip brushed your folds, you moaned again. Just his cock head felt already so wide, you wondered briefly if you could even take him in this position. Though Sy didn’t wait, he simply let August nudge against your hole until he was satisfied, then he lowered you further.

 

 

The first few inches of August’s cock sank into you without difficulty. Though you felt overwhelmed by the fullness, as soon as he was a little over half way inside. Mewling at the feeling.

 

Sy’s hands on your hips grounded you, along his words, “Doin’ so well for us. Just relax.”

 

 

“Fuck darling, such a good girl. Yeah doing so good, taking…argh fuck all of me…”

 

He cursed again, as you had relaxed your muscles enough to sink down his entire length, folds crushed against his pubic bone. Only Sy’s hands around you, prevented you from falling forward, as you twitched above your best friend/lover.

 

 

“There ya go. How does he feel?”

 

 

“Fu-uck so deep.”

 

“Yeah. Think ya can ride ‘im?”

 

 

When you only mewled Sy chuckled darkly, “Very well then, I’ll help.”

 

 

Not realising what he meant, you cried out in surprise, when his big paws lifted you up a little bit, before he pushed you back down August’s cock.

 

 

Your hands tightened around your husband’s wrists as he repeated the movement, needing something to hold onto before you completely lost your mind.

 

August’s grunts sounded like a wild boar, being speared. Even though he was the one spearing you.

 

“Clenching so much, messy, messy girl.” His eyes bore into yours, as Sy scooted closer, panting into your ear when his own leaking cock pressed between your butt cheeks.

 

 

“Gonna make ya, even messier, bun. Gonna paint your back all white.”

 

 

“Ah, yes please, plea-se.”

 

While Sy steered your hips and rhythmic movement on August’s cock, he rutted against your arse and back just as roughly, moaning into the crook of your neck. You didn’t know how he did it, but he suddenly increased the pace, making your tits bounce with every downward drop.

 

“Go-gonna come…”

 

 

August swiftly bucked his hips up, to meet your drops, ramming against your special spot with such violence, you cried out. Black spots started to dance before your eyes, pussy clenching down harder and harder, making it near impossible for August to move at all within you.

 

Sy’s rutting became just as violent, matching August’s loud animalistic growls. “Fuck yeah, baby come on his cock…come for us.”

 

August cursed, pushing with all his might into your cunt, tipping you over the edge easily and following suit with a last growl. Your orgasm was so intense, your whole body tingled and then you felt something hot and sticky spill onto your back. Sy had come simultaneously, his cum now running down your skin, as August’s began dribbling out of your overflowing cunt.

 

 

You leaned against Sy’s sweaty chest, panting just as breathlessly as him and August.

 

August’s softening cock slipped out of your pussy, but before you could do anything else, Sy had taken his place, shoving his own somewhat softened cock inside, earning a loud, drawn out moan from you at the overstimulation.

 

“Gotta keep me warm for a bit, love.”

 

 

And as if that explained everything, he manoeuvred you both into a lying down position, so you faced August while being pressed against Sy’s chest, still impaled by his fat cock.

 

 

“Can see why he can’t get enough. That sweet pussy of yours is heaven, darling.” He rolled onto his side, facing you directly now, though your eyes began to droop already. Thoroughly exhausted from the day’s events and the incredible fuck you just received.

 

 

August pulled the cover over the three of you, the warmth radiating off of them making you shiver.

 

Blinking slowly, you smiled gently before whispering, “The best birthday present ever. You’ve got me right? You’ll stay, won’t you?”

 

“We’ve got ya, love.”

 

“Forever, darling…”

SAUSAGE

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[steddiehyperfixation]

how to stay with you (steddie ficlet)

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 29: future, and also inspired by this post i saw ages ago

1474 words | rated t | cw: unhappy ending

When Steve and Eddie first got together, they had been young and in love and that’s all that had mattered. At 19 and 20 the realities of the future seemed so far away, so caught up in each other in each present moment that it almost felt like they would never grow up, like time would never pass and they would never have anything to worry about. Conversations of ‘what ifs’ and potential issues were brushed aside, anything that wasn’t an immediate problem dismissed with a kiss and a carefree “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” There was no need for premature concern when surely nothing would ever be so big as to come between them. Because they were it for each other, weren’t they? They were forever, and forever seemed so easy when forever was young.

But the time did pass and they did grow up, and now the bridges they thought they’d never come to are looming before them, fast approaching.

At 25 and 26, they sit at the dinner table in the one-bedroom apartment they’ve lived in for years and Eddie tells Steve about the life-changing phone call he just received. The Hollywood music producer he’s been in sporadic contact with finally wants to finalize a plan and work with Eddie’s band officially, and Eddie is so excited he’s practically vibrating as he rambles to Steve about the album he’ll make and the tours he might go on and how they’re gonna have to start looking for places in LA soon because they have to be local and the producer wants to get started on this by the end of next month. He expects Steve to be excited too, to match his grin and maybe hold hands and bounce around the kitchen with him, but his boyfriend’s expression only falls further and further into a frown with every word Eddie speaks.

“Eddie-” Steve interrupts him, his voice far too serious. “I don’t want to move to LA.”

Eddie’s buzzing energy freezes, stopping short. “What?”

Steve repeats, “I don’t want to move to LA.”

“But-” Eddie frowns. “I was always going to move to LA, that was always my plan. You knew that.”

“Yeah, I-I know. But we always said we’d just cross that bridge when we came to it.”

“Well, we’re coming to it now. So, why don’t you want to move?”

“I don’t want to uproot our life here. And I don’t want to end up having to wait around in a strange city while you’re off on tours all the time.”

“You wouldn’t, you’d come with me.”

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t live like that. And what about when we have kids? That’s no way to-”

“Wait, Steve-” It’s Eddie’s turn to interrupt, all trace of his previous excitement gone, having dropped like a stone into his gut instead. “I don’t want kids. Like, ever.”

Something fractures in Steve’s eyes as he stares at him, almost hurt. “What? Why did you never say anything? You knew- I’ve always wanted kids, Eddie, you’ve always known that.”

“Yeah, I know, I just-” Eddie’s mouth feels too dry and his tongue too heavy as he wets his lips and shrugs guiltily. “I mean, we always said we’d just cr-”

“-cross that bridge when we came to it, yeah,” Steve sighs, a dejected sort of exhale that slouches in his shoulder as if the full weight of this conversation has suddenly settled upon them.

Eddie feels it too, feels them sinking somewhere they can’t come back from. “Is that, uh- is that a dealbreaker for you?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Steve admits, and he looks at Eddie like it devastates him to do so, emotion swimming in his eyes and straining his voice. “Is me not wanting to move to LA a dealbreaker for you?”

Eddie swallows thickly. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Would you ever change your mind?” Steve asks, a last ditch hope. “About kids, or any of it?”

“No,” Eddie says; though he hates to watch the last of the light drain from Steve’s face, he can’t lie to him. “Would you?”

“No,” Steve answers in a barely managed whisper.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and it shakes. His vision blurs. He says, “Then this isn’t going to work, is it?”

Steve stares at him with glassy eyes, like he’s watching Eddie become a ghost right in front of him. His voice breaks as he speaks, “You mean we’re not going to work.”

“Yeah…” Eddie confirms, and it shatters his heart. “I’m so sorry, Stevie.” He reaches for Steve’s hands across the table. “I love you more than anything, I really do, but I won’t give up on my dream, and I can’t ask you to give up on yours either.”

“No you’re right.” Steve breath shudders. His eyes fall to their joined hands and he blinks rapidly, the way he does when he’s trying hard not to cry. He squeezes Eddie’s hands tight, desperate for something to hold on to even as he agrees, “We want different things, incompatible things. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Exactly…I don’t want to hold you back,” Eddie echoes in barely more than a whisper, afraid if he tries to speak any louder he’ll break into tears.

Steve does break then, a sob escaping from his throat as if it’d clawed its way free, tears spilling from his eyes. Such a cry activates an instinct in Eddie that sends him leaping to his feet and pulling Steve into a hug within seconds.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. His chest aches and he really wishes this wasn’t happening, hates that he knows that it has to.

“Me too,” Steve manages, head buried in Eddie’s shoulder. There’s no bitterness in it, only heavy acceptance. He knows it too.

They both know there’s no solving this, no compromise they could find that wouldn’t inevitably fester into resentment and regret. Because Steve wants to settle down and Eddie wants to fly - but Eddie isn’t built for the ground, nor is Steve for the sky, and there’s no common place left between them where they could both survive. It’s over.

So they mourn together while they still have each other to take comfort in, clinging tight to what they’re losing, just one last time. Eddie's crying now too, his tears streaming silently down his cheeks in counterbalance to Steve’s sniffly mumbling.

“I don't want to lose you,” Steve mutters. “Are you sure? Are you sure?”

And Eddie cries quietly into the crook of his neck that he doesn't want to lose him either, and he's sorry, so sorry.

When the worst of their sobs subside, they reach the bargaining stage of their grief, and they pull apart just enough to talk properly while still holding onto each other. Eddie swears he'll keep in touch, says he still wants to be a part of Steve's life. Steve makes him promise to send him postcards of all the amazing places he'll go to on tours and to invite him to shows whenever he's nearby. Eddie tells him to invite him to the wedding when - when, he emphasizes as Steve starts to shake his head - Steve falls in love again and finds someone who can give him the life he wants.

At that, Steve sniffles out a laugh, wet and humorless. “That would be cruel,” he says.

“I never said I’d actually show up,” Eddie clarifies, giving an equally complicated smile and bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “I just want to know. I want to know that you're happy, even if it can't be with me.”

Steve closes his eyes - another tear or two leaks out - and turns his face into Eddie's hand. In a whisper, he agrees, “Okay.”

They decide it would be best for Eddie to leave as soon as possible. Since they've already concluded they won't last, there's no reason for them to stay in the same apartment even just one more night. It would only hurt more in the end.

With a sort of dissociated detachment, Eddie packs up his things, separating his life from Steve’s one piece of clothing and decorations at a time. It's all he can do not to start crying again.

As Eddie turns to leave for the last time, Steve grabs his arm, impulsive, desperate, and begs him for one more kiss. So Eddie turns around and indulges him. He tastes the salt of their tears on their lips, clutching at Steve's waist and tangling a hand in his hair as they both kiss each other like they know they never will again. Eddie savors every bitter taste, memorizes every sweet feeling.

And then they’re out of time and Eddie's out the door, his whole future ahead of him and his heart cracked right in half.

[katyawriteswhump]

I hear your voice (and it carries me)

for @steddieangstyaugust day 17 prompt: 'Keep breathing, please."

Rating: M WC: 1700 CW Drug-use Tags: Established steddie, alternate canon season 4 (with details fudged and twisted for my own plotty purposes.)

What if Vecna came for Steve first, not Chrissy? (No actual death, I promise, just guilty-pleasure pop and major angst…)

...

Eddie climbed through the window that Dustin had left open and into Steve’s hospital room. His boots smacked too loud on the floor, and his every muscle tightened.

Steve was wired up to a series of bleeping machines. Plaster casts smothered three of his limbs. His neck was in a brace, and his face was half-lost beneath an oxygen mask.

Eddie knew, of course. Steve had arrived here in a far worse state than this. 

Still one helluva punch in the gut.

He tiptoed to the bed and located Steve’s Walkman, which had been dumped on a trolley. He slipped it back over Steve’s ears, careful not to disturb the mask. Dustin and Robin had played a showstopper in convincing Steve’s mom that Steve would want constant pop. 

Unfortunately, the medical staff kept taking the darn thing off.

Eddie didn’t switch the cassette on right away, however. He anxiously smoothed Steve’s hair.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “I panicked, Stevie. I was too fucking scared. I should’ve broken your fall, and I should never have let you… I… I shouldn’t have…” He pressed his lips to Steve’s cool, clammy brow. A fat tear dripped from his nose. “Keep breathing, Baby. Keep breathing, please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Dustin’s yell blasted through Eddie’s walkie-talkie. Eddie scrambled to turn the volume down.

“Henderson, what the heck?”

“Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds early. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

…

One week earlier

Steve lay flat on his back on Eddie’s bed, shirtless, and with his jeans tangled round his knees. Eddie was sprawled on top of him—a smokin’ hot mess of sweat and hair—and kissing Steve stupid.

Steve should’ve been in a happy place. He was sucking Eddie’s face off, grinding himself up into Eddie, while Eddie pawed hungrily at his ass. Eddie wanted in, and Steve wanted nothing more than for Eddie to bone his brains out.

If only he could shake these stupid jitters.

Christ, the blood pounding in his ears drowned out the mega-loud Aerosmith track on his latest mixtape. He was also dog-tired, and sick of it. The nightmares had ruined his sleep for days.

And they were all total bull.

Yeah, Steve felt guilty about shit. Not only about Barb, though that was a biggie—there was so much he’d screwed up in his life. He sucked. He got it, blah, blah, blah.

No way was he buying into crazy hallucinations where Eddie yelled and hated on him. Let alone ones where Robin transformed into a squelchy tentacle monster. He was going out of his tiny mind. It was the only reasonable explanation, and the only answer right now was…

Eddie broke the kiss. “You okay, Babe? Still got a headache?”

“I’m fine.” Steve dabbed his lips, shivering because Eddie was too far away already. “I’ll be fine. Gimme more of the good stuff, okay?”

Eddie turned down the music. “Seriously? You mainlined poppers earlier—enough to lay low a daddy buffalo. That shit means business.”

“So I do. Stop being a freakin’ pussy.” Steve wedged his hand between Eddie’s thighs and purred. “I can totally handle it, and if I do turn to mush? Means I can take even more of this big boy.”

“I’m not sure, Stevie… Oh shiiiit.” 

Steve mercilessly squeezed Eddie’s dick, batted his lashes. Yeah, he’d beg if he had to. Anything to feel less tense and haunted, to feel he was actually in the room with Eddie. 

He never had to.

Eddie pulled a dopey face, started rummaging through his stuff. Steve dragged his jeans up with fumbling hands. He maxed out the stereo volume—snickering because Eddie was gonna literally piss himself when the track-after-next started—and wandered toward the kitchen to get more beer.

….

Eddie located a shoebox full of snazzy lil’ multicolor poppers and a sachet of Special K. Then his frazzled brain caught up with him.

He’s already had waaay too much. Okay, he’s still revved as fuck, but THAT’S NOT NORMAL.

He ditched the shoebox, grabbed a jar of Acetaminophen. After tipping all but two pills out, he peeled off the label. He’d tell Steve they were hardcore tranqs. Shifty, but… Screw it, he cared about Steve more than he’d ever cared about anyone. Yeah, Steve had bugged him for downers. Eddie should never have caved. He vowed, one way or another, he’d wean his boy off ’em.

He was, admittedly, launching his campaign the coward’s way. Had to start somewhere, right?

“There you go, Honey,” he said, wandering out. “Boneless bliss just moments away.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. He dropped the jar. Steve stood motionless in the middle of the trailer. His eyes were lidded, twitchy with the occasional flash of white.

“Steve?” Eddie dashed forward, started shaking him. “Talk to me, Steve. Wake up! Can you hear me? I don’t like this, Stevie.”

Shit! He’s ODd already!

Eddie jostled him, pleaded with him. Right till the moment Steve levitated up into the air and smacked into the ceiling.

Eddie staggered back. The Black Sabbath track blasting from the stereo ended. Silence reigned.

One of Steve’s arms twisted the wrong way at the elbow and popped. Eddie screamed, then actually pinched himself, because this had to be a horrible dream, and then…

‘Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth’

Belinda Carlilse. Belinda fucking Carlilse. Yeah, Steve loved to sneak pop-tastic hits onto his mixtapes. Eddie would always crack up, plus he didn’t hate them either.

One of Steve’s legs contorted with a sickening snap.

‘They say in Heaven, love comes first

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth…’

Steve’s eyes flashed from white to brown. He fell, landing with a horribly crunching smack.

In the blur of the next few minutes, Eddie called an ambulance. He leaned close over Steve’s blue-ish lips, sensed the faintest warmth, though didn’t dare touch him. His eyes bled. He looked so… broken. Eddie prayed to some WASP deity he’d never believed in that he was the one having a really bad trip.

He went with Steve in the ambulance and held his limp hand on the ride. They’d already got that mask on his face, the brace around his neck. At the hospital, Eddie watched Steve’s gurney disappear through swinging doors. He collapsed in the waiting room, buried his face in his hands.

Steve’s parents arrived soon after. They joined the doctors in bombarding Eddie with thunderous glares, until the truth finally glimmered.

They believe I did that to him.

Even if… WHEN… Steve wakes up, they’ll say we were both high as fucking kites. They’ll blame the satan-worshipping freakshow.

Convinced the cops were on their way, Eddie fled via a fire escape. While he was holed up at Reefer Ric’s, two teens were murdered. The whole town now believed Eddie was the monster behind those crimes, too.

“Way to go making a play for the FBI’s Most Wanted list,” Dustin said, when he brought Eddie supplies. “If you hadn’t run, those deaths would’ve got you off the hook. Not that you’re exactly innocent. You know your fun-time sweeties repressed Steve’s breathing as badly as the neck injuries? Sent him into that coma?”

“Wow, you’re a real genius! Never dawned on me. Oh, hold on. IT’LL TORTURE ME EVERY GODDAMN MOMENT, OF EVERY FREAKIN’ DAY, FOR THE REST OF MY CURSED LIFE.”

At least the kid had a theory about the attacks, supernatural sorcery shit that blew Eddie’s mind. Also, one of Dustin’s friends, Max, was apparently lined up to be the next victim. For some wild reason, the only thing keeping the killer at bay was endless Kate Bush.

“Eddie,” asked Dustin, while Eddie stared into a box of Cap’n Crunch he’d literally no appetite for. “Is there any music you reckon might help Steve?”

…

‘In this world we're just beginnin'

To understand the miracle of livin'’

Steve was beyond sick of Belinda.

She ebbed and flowed through his consciousness pretty much constantly. Trouble was, whenever she was randomly gone, as she was now, the swirling red fog around him thickened. He was confused, and yeah, he was frightened. He’d not heard any squelching footsteps or booming synth voices lately, but he sensed that thing was still out there.

He occasionally heard talking. People poked and prodded him, and breathing was sometimes a scary battle. He tried to talk himself once or twice, but he couldn’t even open his eyes. He was lost and sick and hurting and… so lost.

Right until he felt somebody stroking his hair. Then a moist feather-soft brush on his brow. 

Eddie.

He’d recognise Eddie’s kiss anywhere, whether rough or dumbass levels of sweet. Eddie was here. Eddie was with him. Steve strove harder than ever to fight free of the choking fog.

“Keep breathing, Baby.”

Eddie’s voice. Broken and distant, but it was him.

“Keep breathing,” Eddie whispered, “please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Steve’s blood literally jumped. Shit, was that Henderson? “Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

Too much. Steve’s head was too muddled, he didn’t understand. He finally fluttered his eyes open and latched his blurry focus onto Eddie. Who startled like a coyote bit his butt. Steve would’ve laughed, if he’d gotten the lung power.

“Steve? Steve!”

Eddie seemed spooked. Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed. He was in a hospital bed. He’d got some weird plastic mask thing on his face. When he tried to lift his arm, pain lanced hotly. 

Oh God, oh God!

He fixed on Eddie and felt himself calm a little. “Please,” he murmured, his voice a barely-there rasp. “Don’t go.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand and smiled gently. “Not if I can help it, darlin’.”

Steve faintly registered a door flying wide. A voice cried out, echoed by a wailing alarm. He somehow found the strength to grip Eddie’s fingers, even as Belinda Carlisle launched up in his ears again:

‘Baby, I was afraid before

But I'm not afraid anymore…’

Eddie’s hand was torn away from Steve’s loosening grip, and Steve slipped back into the fog.

...

(Steve is okay, Vecna got distracted and El whipped his ass anyway, then Eddie get off, and it all ended happily... promise!) You tube link to 'heaven is a place on earth' for other 80s pop obsessives

Thanks for reading! All my ST fic on AO3

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 888 words | angst | mature

CW: drug use, implicit violence

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 3

Prompt: "The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

Part 2 | Part 3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

Eddie looks up from the joint he's rolling to find the only face he never thought he would see out here. 

"King Steve," he says, and maybe it's his imagination but Harrington seems to flinch at his words. "What can I do for you?"

Eddie goes back to rolling his joint. There's a part of him that thinks this could be a trap. Last week the entire swimming team had to do a test to make sure they were all clean and one of the guys didn't pass it. 

He didn't pass it because Eddie had sold him some stuff the week before so maybe now Steve was here to put Eddie in his place. 

Eddie lights up the joint and takes a long drag. If he's going to get a beating, then he might as well do it while high out of his mind. 

"I was hoping you'd sell me something," Steve says. Eddie looks at him with the joint between his lips, trying to assess him. 

"Sorry man, I'm all out," Eddie knows best than to create evidence against himself. 

Steve looks at the open metal lunchbox on the table and raises a brow. "Really?"

"Really," Eddie says. He doesn't bother closing it and he doesn't mind if Steve knows he's lying. 

"Jordan told me all I had to do was say that bullshit thing about the sunset and you'd get me something." 

Eddie turns his face to blow out smoke. Fucking Jordan. He had come up with that password phrase to avoid getting in trouble. If people really wanted to buy something, then they would have to come up to Eddie and say it. 

"He lied," Eddie says and he can see Steve's getting annoyed. 

He gets up and put his joint out, pocketing it for later. 

Eddie could definitely use a few extra bucks this week because their kitchen sink stopped working and Wayne doesn't get paid until the end of the month, but it's not worth the risk of getting in trouble. Eddie knows the money he brings home is what helps keeping them afloat, even if Wayne likes to pretend he doesn't know where Eddie gets it.

He closes his lunchbox and moves to walk past Steve, but feels a hand wrapping around his wrist, stopping him.

It's not a strong hold, he could easily break free and walk away, but Eddie stops. He doesn't think he ever got this up close with Steve, which is both thrilling and terrifying.

"Please, man," Steve says, his voice is really low and he's wearing sunglasses, so Eddie can't see his eyes. "I just need something to get the edge off."

Eddie looks down to where they are touching and feels a fucked up thrill going down his spine. Steve's hand is big enough to circle his wrist without much effort and Eddie wonders how it would feel to have that in a different scenario. 

He wonders how it would feel if Steve were to grab him and throw him down on the table. He could probably hold both his wrists with one hand, and Eddie would be helpless to do anything but take whatever Steve wanted to give him. 

Steve moves and Eddie doesn't even flinch, thinking he might get what he wished for after all, but Steve just takes out his sunglasses and Eddie's breath catches in his throat.

Steve has a big bruise around his left eye. It's ugly and it can't be older than a day. It must hurt like hell and Eddie has to fight the urge to touch it. 

"My head is killing me," Steve offers. He looks defeated and Eddie can't ignore the way his heart twist at the words. 

Eddie should ignore it. He should pull his arm away and walk out, leave him out here alone. But Eddie is not a fucking monster.

He picks up the barely smoked joint and offer it to Steve, who lets go of Eddie's arm and takes it immediately. 

Eddie decides not to think about the absence of his touch, and instead watches as Steve puts it between his lips and how that essentially means their lips touched, somehow.

Steve is giving him a hopeful look and Eddie should walk away but instead he picks his lighter and lights him up. 

The first drag floods Steve's expression with relief and he lets out a low moan that makes Eddie's whole body tingle. 

"How much do I owe you?" Steve asks, already moving to get his wallet. His arm brushes Eddie's but he doesn't seem to mind the proximity. 

"Consider it a free sample," Eddie says and Steve eyes him suspiciously. 

"You gotta let me pay you," Steve says and Eddie has to stop himself from saying 'you can pay me with something other than money.'

Even if he doesn't say it, Eddie is under the impression the words float around them like ghosts. Steve raises a brow and Eddie has to laugh it off before he starts taking off his clothes. 

"Don't worry, big boy. Enjoy your free sample."

And with that, Eddie retreats before he does something stupid like kiss King Steve. That would get him a beating for sure and Eddie likes a little pain, but he probably wouldn't like that. 

[hawkinsbnbg]

hold me tight

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 20: “I didn’t know where else to go.”

tags: post Starcourt, friends to lovers, requited unrequited love.

rated: T | word count: 1k4 | ao3

This was stupid, Steve told himself. Absolutely stupid. It wasn't like Eddie was his friend or anything.

They just happened to spend many sleepless nights together smoking and talking about everything and nothing. They just met up at Skull Rock almost every day so Steve could decompress by listening to Eddie's ramblings about DnD, Hell Fire Club, and Corroded Coffin. They just told each other a lot of secrets and held hands to offer each other comfort. They just shared multiple inside jokes that not even their own friends would know.

They just—

Okay, maybe Steve had downplayed it. Because at this point, Eddie might be his only real friend in this town.

And it was just Steve's luck to catch feelings for him and lose him in the process.

See, since his young age, Steve had always been self-aware enough to know what he wanted. Whether it was toys, food, or people. He just never made his liking obvious in case his parents decided to hold them over him.

Hence, nonchalance had always been his default façade. It was the "Kill two birds with one stone", helped him protect his secrets, helped him conceal his most vulnerable part, and helped him remain indestructible under scrutinizing eyes.

And for a long time, Steve thought he was so smart, hiding his true self behind the garnished mask he had created.

Until he met Nancy, until he got his heart broken that night in Tina's bathroom, until he stumbled on Eddie and realized that the mask he wore made him look exactly like what he always hated.

Bullshit.

And now, standing on the Munson Trailer's porch, Steve tried to not turn on his heels and run away or puke his guts out because he was too scared of facing rejection again.

But he also didn't want to be alone right now, and call it his moment of weakness, he just wanted to be held and reassured that everything would be alright even when he probably didn't deserve it.

Selfishly, though, he knew Eddie wouldn't say no to him, not when he was in such a pitiful state, not when they used to be good friends up until Steve ruined it all. And perhaps, it was the thought that gave him enough courage to rap his knuckles on the door.

"D'you know what time is it, man? If you're here to ask for weeds– Holy shit!"

Against his better judgment, Steve shrank in himself, ashamed that he was causing trouble for Eddie once more, making himself as small as possible and bracing for another rejection.

"Uhm, hi?" He smiled weakly.

Wordlessly, Eddie guided him inside, led him to the couch, and sat him down.

After handing him a glass of water, which he sipped slowly, Eddie started cleaning the cuts on his face, movements gentle as if afraid of hurting him.

Though it wasn't much and Steve knew any decent human being would treat him with the same sympathy, his heart still didn't get the memo and started somersaulting in his chest.

He watched the soft yellow light cast on Eddie's face, illuminating those dark brown eyes like stars, shining on the plump lips being worried between those sharp white teeth.

He glanced down, taking in the sleeveless black tee and gray sweatpants, the crimson guitar pick dangling on Eddie's chest as he leaned forward slightly, the tattoos on the pale arms, the long fingers, void of rings.

"What happened?" Eddie asked, sounding genuinely worried, after a moment of tense silence.

Instead of answering the question, Steve only shrugged and grimaced slightly.

"Sorry for waking you up this late. It's just," he averted his gaze to avoid Eddie's intense look. "I didn't know where else to go."

"You're always welcome here, Sweetheart," said Eddie kindly. "And you can wake me up whenever. We're already past that, aren't we?"

Eddie was right.

It wasn't rare for the older boy to climb through Steve's window at random hours and invite himself into Steve's bed so they could cuddle until morning. And it wasn't new for Steve to do so to Eddie, either.

Over just a few months, they had grown impossibly close and Steve would dare to say Eddie was the one who understood him the most and vice versa.

Except, it was never that simple, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if Steve hadn't kissed Eddie in a completely un-platonic way. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other since the day Eddie ran away from him, confused and terrified, leaving Steve with even more nightmares.

He sighed, suddenly feeling tired. Who was he kidding anyway? It was a huge mistake to come here after all.

"Yeah," he sniffed. "But I thought I wouldn't be welcomed anymore after what I did to you."

"Steve," said Eddie sharply.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he squeezed his eyes shut and raked his fingers through his sticky hair, using the dull aches to ground himself. "I– Tonight's been a lot. People died, Eddie. And all I could think about was you. As much as I regret driving you away, I'd kiss you again and again even if I were allowed to come back to that day to fix my mistake. Because it had kept you safe and away from me, from dangers. And I swear I'm not trying to make you forgive me out of pity. I know I had screwed up big time. So I'm gonna be out of your hair soo–"

Steve let out a gasp when Eddie suddenly kissed him, staring in shock as Eddie pressed another one on the corner of his mouth, tasting his blood and pain.

"What–"

"I'm aware this is far from the appropriate answer you deserve," Eddie brushed a hair out of Steve's forehead, smiling sadly. "But I couldn't find any way more obvious to tell you the kiss was never a mistake. Because I've been dreaming about it for months and you had granted me exactly what I wanted."

Steve was confused. Because why would Eddie say that? Why would he kiss Steve then when all Steve wanted was to make it right? Why would he look so sad when he had already shattered Steve's heart into pieces?

"Why?" Steve asked softly, unable to hold a grudge when Eddie was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars, overwhelming and nothing he had feared at all.

"I was scared," said Eddie bluntly without needing him to elaborate, always understanding him beyond words. "That's not an excuse for the way I acted with you. I was an ass for going radio silence and leaving you in the dark. As your friend, I should've known to communicate better. But I didn't and I caused you all this pain just because I panicked over a kiss I've been wanting since the first time I saw you."

"I'm really sorry, Sweetheart," said Eddie quietly, hand cradling his face gently like one would hold something precious. "For having been an idiot and a coward. For breaking your trust. For running away. For hurting you."

Leaning into the touch, Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of old weeds, leather, citrus, and cigarettes, feeling oddly homesick even though he was already home.

He wanted to get mad at Eddie, to demand some kind of compensation for his battered heart; and yet, he was tired, in pain, and about to keel over now the drug in his system had worn off.

However, he was in no shape to hold a serious conversation at the moment and he knew Eddie had noticed it too.

"Let's go take a shower first, okay?" Eddie leaned in and kissed his shoulder. It was so random but Steve still felt his cheeks warm at the intimate gesture.

Somehow, he didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed about it and ended up having Eddie wash his hair for him.

———

After making a call to check in with Robin as promised, he padded into Eddie's room and joined the older boy beneath the quilts and blankets, smiling softly as he thought about all the time he had been in Eddie's bed when he couldn't stand his parents' arguments.

When Eddie pulled him closer, he went willingly and melted into those arms, feeling warm and safe for the first time after two months of staying apart from his best friend.

"I love you," he mumbled into Eddie's chest, too relaxed and sleepy to care about the consequences. Go big or go home, right?

And when Steve finally drifted off, he heard something almost sounded like, "I love you, too."

[gloomysoup]

@steddieangstyaugust day 3 | prompt: "the sunset looks lovely, don't you think?" | rating: g | word count: 618 | tags: major character death, grief | ao3

sunsets and lemon blueberry cake

“The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?”

Eddie sat on the threadbare picnic blanket at the top of the hill. His voice was quiet, so as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. There was no response. He never expected one.

“It's been five years, you know,” he said to no one in particular. “Today, actually. I still find it kind of hard to believe.

Still, no reply. The wind blew gently through the trees, picking up a few of Eddie’s curls. He figured that was enough of an answer.

“Dustin called to check on me this morning. I told him I was fine. Robin called too, but I told her a little more of the truth. It's still hard. I woke up this morning thinking you'd be in the kitchen making coffee like you always used to. Obviously, you weren't.” Eddie sighed, watching the sun slowly sink lower on the horizon below. “Robin wanted to be here, but she's got this new PhD student on staff. Says he has a lot of potential, but needs a little more guidance. She couldn't get away from work to be here. She said she was sorry, but I told her it was fine. It is fine, though. I know she'd be here if she could. I told her you'd understand.”

Eddie took a deep breath and reached for the box he’d brought from the car. He opened it, pulling out a small cake. “I know it's silly, but I brought your cake. Tradition, right? I'm still not sure I'm really celebrating anything, but it didn't feel right not to bring one. Lemon blueberry, right? I still don't know how you eat this shit.”

A sad smile pulled at Eddie’s lips as he stared down at the cake. It was a small, circular cake. Not big at all, but he didn't need anything fancy. Most of it would probably get tossed anyway. It was simple. No words across the top. He wasn't sure what there was to say. This wasn't really an anniversary worth celebrating, especially one worth mentioning to the stranger at the bakery, but he always brought a cake anyway. Lemon blueberry. Steve's favorite.

“I didn't realize it until the other day, but I'm starting to forget your voice. I wish I had some way to remember. I miss it. I miss your laugh, too.”

The wind blew again, a little harder that time. If he listened hard enough, Eddie could almost hear it. Steve’s voice.

“I miss you a lot,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Every day. Some more than others. I wish you were here. Lucas’s little girl is almost three now. I know you would've loved to meet her. I'm supposed to leave in two weeks to visit. It won't quite line up with her birthday, but it's the closest I could get with work. Too many appointments, and I don't want to have to reschedule. The shop’s doing well, though. I've been thinking about taking on an apprentice, maybe adding a piercer or two. I don't know. I've never been very good at all the business stuff. Not like you.”

The sun was almost gone. Eddie sat in silence. The minutes stretched on. Eddie grabbed the plastic fork he'd brought, poking into the cake. He took a bite, wrinkled his nose, and took another. He never did understand what Steve liked about it. Maybe he never would. That wouldn't stop him from trying.

The stars began sparkling overhead, reds and oranges fading to blues and purples. Eddie sighed and closed the box, sealing the cake away. He looked to his left, smiling sadly at the tombstone that rested there.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Always.”

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair 9/?

Yes, it's true. You aren't dreaming. I am finally updating this long-neglected fic! Not only that, but I will be finishing it. As a matter of fact, you will have an update every day this week. If anyone still cares, that is, lol. I know the fandom isn't what it once was. However, I suddenly got inspired again to finish this. So whether or not anyone reads it, it's getting the resolution it deserves. Why did I neglect it for so long? Writer's block. I just haven't written hardly a thing in at least a year, probably longer. So when I laid awake, unable to sleep because I was finishing this fic in my head, I was ecstatic. That's why I'm finishing it whether anyone reads it or not. Of course, if you are still reading it, may I politely suggest commenting? It definitely feeds the muse!

Rest assured, there will be an update tomorrow. I don't have much going on tomorrow, and I actually planned more in this chapter originally. So be looking out for that!

Much thanks to the two biggest fans of this fic, Krystal @kmomof4 and Marta @snowbellewells - re-reading your reblogs of this fic helped kick me back into high gear!

And as an extra treat, here is a picture of Emma's wedding dress in this chapter:

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 1k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressay

Liam and Ingrid, unsurprisingly, had concerns when they came home to Emma and Killian announcing their engagement. Anna, unsurprisingly, was bouncing up and down with joy. 

“Are you sure you’re proposing for the right reasons?” Was their main question for Killian.

“Well, the main reason is I love her,” he told them with conviction, “but it’s also the timing. She needs me. I know deep in my bones I was always meant to be her husband, so if she needs me now, why wait?”

“Are you sure you aren’t just accepting out of fear? Because it’s safe?” Was their main question for Emma.

Emma’s answer was delivered with just as much conviction. “It isn’t just that I feel safe with Killian; I love him. Shouldn’t love feel safe, anyway? And I feel the same way he does. If we waited five more years, or ten, or twenty, nothing would change. We’re meant to be together.”

Liam and Ingrid couldn’t pretend to be surprised. Both of them had noticed a soulmate type of connection between Emma and Killian for a long time. They also couldn’t deny the logic of the decision when it came to Emma’s security and the baby’s. There was only one other concern.

“What about school?”

“I can finish high school married just as well as I can single,” Emma told them with a shrug, and Killian vowed he wouldn’t get in the way of her education. 

“But Boston College, Killian?”

He squared his shoulders and looked his brother dead in the eyes. “I won’t be returning. I’ve already told my boss he can count on me full time with the construction company. He’s promoting me to a foreman position, so I can easily support Emma. When the baby’s a little older, I can enroll at Red Oak and get my degree there.” 

Liam wanted to argue, but there really wasn’t anything wrong with Killian’s plan. Lots of people worked a year or two, or longer, before getting a degree. He wanted to say that Boston College was a lot more prestigious than Red Oak, but he knew full well it was a pretty weak argument. Killian would save a lot of money by transferring to Red Oak, not to mention gaining job experience. He let out a long breath and shared a meaningful look with his wife. 

“Well okay, then,” she said, her signature grin filling her face, “let’s plan a wedding!”

*******************************************************

A date was set for mid-August, giving Emma two weeks between the wedding and the first day of her senior year. Unfortunately, Elsa wouldn’t be back from her study abroad program in time for the ceremony. It also gave them only three weeks to throw a wedding together. Thankfully, neither Emma nor Killian were big on grand ceremonies. 

The first item on Ingrid’s checklist was the venue. The bride and groom solved that easily: their own living room. Anna and Ingrid - and Elsa via Zoom - tried to protest that it was too small, but Emma just shrugged them off. 

“We can just pull out all the furniture and line up folding chairs. It’s not like we’re inviting that many people.”

Ingrid was concerned that the second item, the dress, would be impossible. Fate, however, seemed to be in their favor. Emma found a vintage dress that suited her personality perfectly at a thrift store downtown. She hadn’t even been dress shopping that day. Ingrid had taken her for ice cream after one of her prenatal appointments, and they had decided to stroll around the square with their ice cream cones. They were simply walking along the sidewalk, licking scoops of chocolate ice cream, and suddenly, there it was, displayed in a window. 

Emma wasn’t even sure it was meant to be a wedding dress, but it didn’t really matter. It was a cream colored, empire-wasted, sleeveless dress with one tier on the bottom of the long skirt. The fabric had a delicate floral pattern in light gold that shimmered when Emma moved. The top was a halter, which flattered Emma’s fuller bust due to her pregnancy. The empire waist also masked her growing baby bump and provided plenty of room in case she gained more in the next few weeks. When she tried it on, Ingrid started to cry. 

An employee stopped to admire Emma. “We just got that in yesterday,” she told her. “A woman told us it was her mother’s prom dress in 1976.”

Emma’s mouth fell open as she locked eyes with Ingrid. Her foster mother pressed her hands to her mouth and let out a happy squeak. 

“It’s fate, Emma,” she told her, and the two embraced. 

They left the store with the dress lovingly wrapped in its original box, having paid a whopping thirty-five dollars and seventy-five cents. 

 Every single item on Ingrid’s list was checked off with simple solutions by the bride and groom:

Killian’s tux? Well, if Emma was wearing a 70s prom dress from a thrift shop, Killian would find a thrift store suit, too.

The food? A potluck lunch would do just fine. 

The cake? The ones at the grocery store would do. As George Banks said in Father of the Bride, a cake is just flour, eggs, and sugar, right? Or something. 

The only thing Killian was concerned about was a place to live. Sure, he knew his brother and Ingrid would never kick them out, and there was at least a modicum of privacy in his attic suite. Still, it would be a little awkward, for one. More than that, however, was Killian’s pride. If he was really providing for Emma and the baby, he should be able to put a roof over their heads. 

His pride wouldn’t even allow him to go to his own brother with his concerns. Yet, Liam somehow knew anyway. Which was why he greeted Killian at the door one evening, a week and a half before the wedding, with a huge grin on his face and a slip of paper in his hand with an address on it. 

After hearing what Liam had to say, Killian raced eagerly up the stairs to Emma’s room with the good news. He came to a sudden stop in Emma’s open doorway, the smile falling from his face. She was sitting atop her bed, hugging a pillow, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. Her mother’s journal rested atop the quilt beside her. 

“Hey,” Killian said softly as he entered the room, “what’s wrong?”

Emma slid over to make space for him on the bed, still trying to wipe the traces of tears from her cheeks. Killian picked up her mother’s journal as he made himself comfortable against the throw pillows along the headboard. Emma lifted his arm, put it around her shoulders, and tucked herself against him. 

“Is it the curse?”

She shook her head. “It’s my mom,” she told him softly.

He waited, rubbing her arm gently, and pressing his lips to the top of her head. Emma let out a shaky sigh before continuing.

“I wish I knew where she was. I’m getting married, and she doesn’t even know.”

Killian nodded but said nothing. Emma lifted her head just enough to look up at him. 

“Is it crazy that I wish she could be there?”

“Of course not. She’s your mother.”

“My insane, homeless, unpredictable mother who threw glass bottles at my head.”

Killian chuckled lightly. “True,” he tapped the green, cloth-covered notebook resting on the bedspread, “but I think reading her journal has given you a glimpse of the woman she was before. I think it’s made you realize, maybe for the first time, what you’ve lost.”

“That makes sense. I think I’m also worried that we haven’t heard from her in so long.”

Killian didn’t know what to say to ease her worries, so he cupped her face in his hand, tipped her chin up, and covered her lips with his. The kiss started gentle, intended simply to comfort, but then she responded so fervently and eagerly, that he lost himself. He shifted so she was beneath him, which caused a mewling sound to pass her lips that drove him wild. Emma slid her hand beneath his t-shirt, sending shivers up his spine as her fingers caressed his lower back. His hand grasped her waist, and his thumb slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. At the simple contact, Emma arched into him, and he began to trail kisses along her jawline. With one hand still on his back, her other hand threaded through his hair. She gasped when his lips trailed to the sensitive skin behind her ear, and something about the sound snapped him out of his haze of desire.

Killian pulled away abruptly and sat up, putting some distance between them. Emma still lay there on the bed, her face flushed, her hair splayed out on the pillows beneath her, a look of confusion marring her brow. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said thickly, fixing his own mussed hair with shaking hands. 

“What for?” Emma asked indignantly, sitting up beside him. “We’re engaged.”

He turned to her and took her face gently in both hands. “I know. I love you, Emma, and I plan to cherish you. You deserve that. After everything you’ve been through, I’m not going to take you like this, hurried and frantic, thinking in the back of our minds that someone could interrupt us at any moment.”

Emma glanced sheepishly at the still open door and giggled. “Then close the door next time.”

He laughed with her and pulled her to him, holding her gently. He ran his fingers through her slightly tangled hair. 

“I want to make love to you. Slowly. Thoroughly.”

Emma shivered in his arms. “Are you trying to torture me on purpose?”

He laughed again. “I feel a bit tortured, myself, truth be told. But we only have a week and a half. Then we’ll have the time and the privacy we deserve.”

“Time maybe. But privacy?”

Killian pulled the forgotten slip of paper from his pocket. ���Yes, privacy.”

Emma snatched it from his hand, looking at it curiously as she settled in the middle of the bed with her legs crossed. “An address?”

“Our address,” he told her, grinning broadly.

“For real?” Emma’s eyes widened.

“For real.”

Emma squealed and threw her arms around his neck. He laughed as she peppered kisses all over his face. 

“How?” she finally asked. 

“There’s a professor of archaeology taking a sabbatical to do a dig in Greece. He told Liam he was looking for someone to take care of his house while he’s gone. So it’s ours. For free.”

“For free?”

Killian shrugged. “Well, there are also some maintenance things on the house I’m agreeing to do for him free of charge, but basically.”

Emma gazed in shock and happiness at the paper in her hands. “It’s too good to be true.”

“It’s fate.”

Emma’s eyes shone with happy tears as she looked back up at him. “It really is.”

Killian was ready to throw caution to the wind and press Emma back down into the pillows when Ingrid appeared in the doorway. He was worried what she would say, seeing him on Emma’s bed, but Ingrid seemed too ecstatic to notice. 

“We’ve found her!” she told them. 

“Who?” Emma asked. 

“Your mom!”

[magnusapix]

Peaceful :)

[carecarry]

summer was always our thing, wasn't it? the late-night texts, the shared playlists, and the way you’d spam me with pictures of your cat or those ridiculous memes that made me snort out loud, almost spilling my drink. we were the last ones to catch up on those must-watch movies, but we didn’t care. we’d sit there, screens synced up, laughing at the same jokes, sharing the same gasps, like we were the only ones who hadn’t seen them. it was like every scene, every line was in on our little secret, wrapping us up in this digital warmth, like the whole internet was rooting for us to stay connected. like, damn, the universe really had our Wi-Fi signals synced for a second there.

but then, as the days got shorter, so did we. like, you ever notice how the sunsets start earlier, and you think you’ve got more time, but then suddenly it’s dark and you’re alone? that was us. one moment, we were basking in the glow of something real, something good, and the next, it was like trying to catch sand in a sieve. no matter how tight i held on, you were slipping through my fingers.

we went from endless summer days to that awkward chill of early auguest. the kind that creeps in when you least expect it, making you shiver when you’re still clinging to the memory of warmth. our laughs became fewer, conversations shorter, until we were just two people who used to know each other. we burned so bright, but maybe that’s why we faded so fast.

and damn, isn’t it just like summer to give you the best days of your life, only to rip them away? i mean, we knew it was coming. we saw the end, lurking behind every sunset, in every "see you tomorrow" that felt more like a goodbye. but fuck, we still tried, didn't we? clung to every last second like it could save us.

now, when i hear those stupid summer songs, the ones that are supposed to be all fun and carefree, they just make me think of you. of us. of how something so warm, so damn perfect, could just… disappear. like summer was a place, and we got lost on the way back home.

so yeah, i’ll keep asking, “can you come every summer time?” even though i know the answer. because it’s easier to pretend, to get lost in the nostalgia, than to face the cold reality that summer’s over. and so are we.

[medusapelagia]

24 I have a date

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:"Go, see if I care." ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Pretended Hate ) @aug-kissed (prompt: Hickeys)  Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: no one Words: 1228

“Come on, Steve! Eddie is a friend! He’s the Dungeon Master of the Hellfire Club! You have to come with us and meet him!” Dustin is begging him, while Steve brushes his hair, getting ready for his date.

“Yeah. I heard you say that the first fifteen times. Eddie’s your super cool friend. Way cooler than me.”

“It’s not that! It’s just… we don’t see each other anymore, and if you started to hang out with us maybe…”

“Dustin, kid, look at me. Do I look like the kind of person who can have fun during one of your boring games? And I know Eddie, I attended the same school you attended, did you forget it? And I can tell you that there aren’t two people more different than Eddie and I.”

“Come on! I swear that he’s fun! And he knows a lot of things! And…”

“Things like what? How to sell drugs to high schoolers? Wait! You aren’t taking any of that shit, are you, Dustin?” Steve asks seriously, his arms on Dustin’s shoulder looking at him in the eyes.

“No, I’m not. Fuck, Steve, you sound like my mother! I’m just having fun with my friends!”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, studying him, then he shrugs, “You’re right. You’re too much of a nerd to use those things. But don’t let Eddie or anyone else convince you to smoke with them, ok?”

“But you used to smoke.” Dustin grins, remembering the drugged confession Steve made in a Russian elevator the year before.

“Yeah. Then I got beaten and drugged by Russian soldiers so no, I don’t smoke joints anymore and I don’t want you to smoke either. It’s bad for your brain.” he tells him while ruffling Dustin’s hair, before looking at the time, “Come on. It’s getting late and I have a long shift and a date tonight.”

“Heidi?”

“No.”

“Susan?”

“No.”

“Jennifer?”

“Oh come on! You’re making me look like a fucking monster. I don’t date that much!”

“Oh yeah, because you date them only for one night and then completely forget about every single one of them but you don’t want to spend one night, one night Steve, with me and my friends.”

“I already told you, Dustin, I have a date,” Steve explains tiredly to Dustin who glares at him furiously.

“Well if your dates are more important than me then just go! Go and see if I care!" Dustin yells, bolting out of Steve’s house, and slamming the door loudly behind himself.

“Dustin! Dustin!” Steve calls, opening the door, but the kid is already biking away through the woods to get to the trailer park.”

“Fuck.” he curses under his breath, staring at the boy that disappears behind some trees. 

He wonders if he should follow him but the clock radio tells him that’s already too late and he still has to pick up Robin, so he grabs his dark green vests and gets into his car, driving toward Robin’s house first and then Family Video.

“What’s the long face?” Robin asks as soon as she sits in his car.

“I think I had a fight with Dustin.”

“You think you did or did you actually have a fight?”

“He asked him to join them for one of their game nights and I said no. And he was so pissed he rushed out of my house without even saying goodbye.”

“That’s normal Dustin’s behavior. Don’t think too much about it. I’m sure in a day or two everything will be back to normal.” She replies, smiling, fixing her makeup in the little car mirror.

Steve nods, she’s right, “Maybe I could pick him up before my date, just to talk.”

“That’s a great idea. Who’s the date by the way? I forgot. Jennifer?”

Steve ignores her, “I’m not going to say anything to you. You lost your gossip privileges when you mocked me for taking Heidi to the Championship game!” Steve replies, parking in front of the video store.

It’s a Thursday, so in the afternoon it’s quite calm and they spend almost all their time rewinding the VHS and throwing candies at each other.

Once their shift is finally over, Steve asks Robin if she minds if they make a stop at the trailer park to pick up Dustin and she replies she doesn’t mind if she can keep her shotgun privileges.

The trailer is old and rusty, and Steve’s BMW wheels grind on the gravel loudly.

“The King has come to see his subjects.” Munson grins, smoking a cigarette.

“I’m here to pick up Dustin, is he ready to go?”

“As ready as someone who lost all his friends can be.”

“He what?” Steve asks worriedly.

“Calm down, Harrington, I’m talking about the game,” Eddie replies, smirking, while Dustin leaves the trailer sadder than he was when he first got there.

“You're the devil himself.” Dustin whines, “How could you do that to us.”

“It’s not me, young padawan, it’s just fate.” Eddie winks while Steve manages to fit Dustin’s bike in his trunk somehow and drives him back home.

“Did you have fun?”

“Does it look like I had fun?” Dustin retorts, crossing his arm in front of his chest.

“Today isn’t a great day. Got it. Why don’t we go have smoothies tomorrow afternoon?” Steve proposes but Dustin doesn’t even reply. 

All he says is “Thanks for the ride,” before shutting the door behind him.

“Kids.” Robin replies when Steve drives her home, “Have fun with your mysterious date!” she waves before going home.

Back at Steve’s place, everything seems normal, apart from his room’s window which looks suspiciously ajar, even if Steve knows he left it closed.

He steps quietly to his room, slamming the door open to catch the intruder by surprise, only to find Eddie half-naked on his bed.

“About time, big boy!” he complains, getting closer to him and pushing him against the wall before kissing him hard.

“Fuck you, Eddie! You scared me!”

“Sorry babe, but I know a great way to ask for forgiveness. Why don’t you lose some of those clothes?” Eddie suggests, kissing Steve more sweetly this time.

“Dustin is still pissed at me. For how long do we have to keep up all this pantomime?”

“Are you ready to come out to a group of teenagers who can’t shut the fuck up?”

Steve sighs, Eddie is right as always.

“But when Robin and I move to Chicago you’ll come with us, right?” Steve asks while Eddie leaves hickeys and love bites on his golden skin, humming content.

“Robin knows about it?”

“Not yet. But she’s my platonic soulmate, she would never say no to me.”

Eddie grins, amused, “She’s way tougher than you think, but yeah, if I manage to graduate this year I promise I’ll try to move to Chicago with you. I think Jeff is moving there too. Could find an apartment with him, close to yours, and get in your room by the window. But for the moment my plan is to write ‘I’m sorry’ on your skin with my teeth. Any thoughts?” He asks, latching on Steve’s neck like a vampire and leaving a huge purple hickey.

Steve feels a familiar warmth in his stomach while Eddie unbutton his jeans and opens the fly.

After all, being in a secret relationship isn’t that bad.