#chronic pain steve harrington

[steddieas-shegoes]

in a new light

for @steddie-week prompt 'body swap'

rated t | 2653 words | cw: mild language | tags: body swap, friends to lovers, eddie has a crush on steve, steve fast burns through a sexuality crisis, steve has chronic pain

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

Steve woke up in Eddie’s bed.

He woke up wearing Eddie’s clothes.

He brushed Eddie’s hair off his shoulder as he yawned.

Or was it his hair?

He opened his eyes and looked down at his shoulder.

Eddie’s hair.

He brushed it off again, but it just fell to his back.

He sat up in bed, looking around the room. No Eddie.

Steve looked around the room before his eyes settled on his own hands.

Eddie’s rings were on his fingers.

He looked down at his arms, jumping at the sight of Eddie’s tattoos.

Eddie’s pale skin.

He rushed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, ignoring a deep sense of dread taking over him.

“What the fuck?” He asked out loud, only remembering that Wayne would be home at the last minute.

“Everything okay in there, Ed?” Wayne’s voice asked from the other side of the door.

“Yep!” He squeaked out, Eddie’s voice falling from his lips.

He had to call Robin or Nancy or Eddie-

Oh god. Was Eddie in his body?

He had to get to his house immediately.

He opened the door slowly, hoping Wayne had already gone back to another room. He hadn’t. Wayne was standing right outside the door still, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“You hurt?” Wayne asked.

“No,” he replied, trying to keep their interactions at a bare minimum.

How would Eddie talk to his uncle? He knew they were pretty close, especially since everything that happened in March, so he probably shouldn’t be so standoffish or awkward. Wayne didn’t know everything about what happened, but he knew enough to be suspicious of anyone acting differently than they normally would.

“You need to talk about anything?” Wayne pushed.

Steve didn’t know how to handle an adult actually caring. Was this how it was for Eddie all the time?

“Um…no?” He cleared his throat. “Just a weird dream. I’ll be fine.”

Wayne squinted his eyes, but nodded and walked towards the kitchen. “Makin’ some eggs for breakfast if you want some.”

“Sounds good!”

Steve booked it back to Eddie’s room, closing the door quietly behind him. Eddie had a phone in his room ever since they moved, a requirement that Dustin insisted on so they could easily reach him. Wayne didn’t mind, especially because it meant he didn’t have to listen to Eddie on the phone in the living room while the game was on.

He dialed his house number, hoping that Eddie would answer.

“Harrington residence,” Robin answered.

“Robin! What’re you doing there?” This was good, actually. She could probably confirm if Eddie was stuck inside Steve’s body.

“Uh…I slept over last night? I always sleep over on Thursday nights, Munson. You know that.”

Shit. She didn’t know yet.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot what day it was.” Steve had to think. He could drive over there and check himself. Or he could just have Robin check right now. “So here’s the thing-”

“Oh, there’s the sleepyhead now!” Robin said away from the phone. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve said through the phone before he realized Robin wasn’t talking to him.

“What the hell is going on?” Robin asked, sounding more panicked now.

“Is that Steve?” he could hear his own voice asking. Jesus, is that what he actually sounded like?

“What do you mean? You’re Steve!” Robin’s voice was getting louder, higher pitched than it had been when she first answered.

“Robs, hand the phone over,” Steve said as calmly as possible. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

“This is so fucked.” He heard her say as she handed the phone to Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, quiet and unsure.

“So you’re stuck in my body,” Steve confirmed. “This isn’t good.”

“Tell me about it. Are you always in this much pain?”

Steve swallowed around a lump in his throat. “It’s…not always that bad. It’s been worse the last few weeks.”

“Why the hell haven’t you said anything?” Eddie sounded angry, but Steve was having trouble getting past being reprimanded in his own voice. “My head is pounding, my side aches, my knee creaks. Your body is fucked, man.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s it?” Eddie sounded angry. “Get over here so we can figure this out.”

He hung up the phone and Steve stood awkwardly by Eddie’s bed.

“Shit.”

****

Steve managed to avoid questions from Wayne, but did get forced into eating some eggs before he left.

“I swear, you better tell that boy soon,” Wayne said as he made his way to the front porch to have a cigarette. “Can’t handle all this dancin’ around feelings.”

Steve tabled that for now, in too much of a rush to get to his house to figure out what was going on and how they could fix it.

By the time he managed to get Eddie’s beat up temporary truck into his own driveway, Robin was gone and he was watching his own body pace up and down the walkway to the front door.

“Robin?” Steve asked as he walked up to Eddie.

“Her mom needed the car. She’s gonna be back later with the kids apparently so we can ‘figure this out’,” he did air quotes around it. “She said this can’t be that bad of a migraine because I can still stand. What the hell does that even mean?”

“Let’s get inside,” Steve sighed as he pushed Eddie in the house and locked the door behind them. “You already knew I get migraines.”

“I thought they were rare! I didn’t know you just woke up like this.”

“Oh, this isn’t a bad one.” Steve looked at the way his eyes weren’t drooping and his shoulders were still surprisingly relaxed. Most of his bad migraines were too intense for him to even be standing, let alone look this calm. “If you’re upright, it’s manageable.”

Eddie’s face dropped from anger to disbelief. “Do you feel like this all the time?”

“I mean, some days are worse than this. Some days are better. But I guess…yeah. Most of the time is like this.” Steve shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“Steve…” Eddie’s hand raised, then he seemed to think twice and let it drop to his side. “Does Owens know? I’m sure he could find something to help.”

“He had more important things to deal with and I didn’t wanna bother him.” Steve walked to the kitchen so he could grab them both drinks as they figured out what to do. “But let’s focus on what’s most important right now.”

“How is your health not what’s most important?” Eddie asked as he followed close behind.

“We can figure it out when it’s my health again!” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You’re stuck in my body feeling the way I’m supposed to feel instead of in your own body, which seems surprisingly normal despite the itch on my side. You should get that checked out by the way. It shouldn’t be itchy anymore.”

“Are you seriously telling me to get an itch looked at when you’re in constant pain? You’re kidding.” Eddie stood in front of Steve, hands on his hips. It was weird seeing his own body doing something so familiar from Eddie’s body. Now that he was seeing it like this, it was a little funny. “I can barely see straight and you’re worried about my scars itching a little?”

“Well, I don’t want it to be infected,” Steve started playing with the ends of his hair, no, Eddie’s hair. “If it ever burns, you should get some antibiotics.”

“Steve. For one single second I need you to focus on the fact that you are in pain all the time. You don’t even take anything for it!” Eddie gently took his fingers from where they were wrapping his own hair around them. “Robin said you never even told her about the scars still hurting.”

“It wasn’t important. I barely even feel it anymore most days,” Steve couldn’t help noticing the way Eddie’s hands were still on his. “Other people had it worse.”

“I think the people who allegedly had it worse would have wanted you to say something. The kids wouldn’t want you to hurt like this all the time,” Eddie turned away and groaned, holding his own head. “Fuck, this is awful. How do you accomplish anything?”

Steve didn’t answer, but reached into the freezer to grab his ice pack designated just for headaches and held it up to where he knew his head was hurting. Eddie seemed to deflate, leaning back against Steve.

And that’s when Steve had the realization that they fit together pretty damn well.

Despite the fact that there was only about an inch of height difference between them, Steve’s body fit perfectly against Eddie’s front.

It felt nice. Even being stuck in Eddie’s body, it felt good to be close like this.

He kept holding the ice pack against his temple and left eye, where the pain always seemed to be the worst. Eddie leaned more weight against him.

“Feel good there?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah. Perfect.”

“You wanna go back to bed? I can wait for Robin and the kids,” Steve offered.

“Nah, I can wait with you.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

Eddie turned and glared at him, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at his own face.

“Bold words coming from Mr. Overdo It himself,” Eddie mumbled as he took the ice pack from Steve’s hand and made his way to the couch. “Come sit with me. We might as well try to talk through what could’ve caused this.”

“I honestly don’t even know where to begin. I don’t think it’s Upside Down related.”

“Pretty sure if it were, one of us would be dead by now.”

Eddie’s eyes closed as he rested his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“It happened in our sleep so maybe it was a dream thing?” Steve asked as he wrapped his arm around Eddie, pulling him into his side more. “Was I in your dream?”

“Mhm. Always,” Eddie slurred, already half asleep.

Steve was too busy trying to think through what could have caused this to realize what he said until he was already asleep.

He looked down at his own sleeping body, the ice pack starting to fall as Eddie’s hand relaxed more. Steve grabbed it and held it in place while he got distracted by new thoughts.

Wayne had said something about feelings earlier and Eddie had sounded genuinely upset about the pain Steve was in, not just because he was currently living it. He’d admitted that he was dreaming about him always.

Sometimes, Eddie would find excuses to be alone with Steve during movie nights: helping him grab drinks for everyone or offering to help get the guest room ready for the kids. He showed up randomly with Steve’s favorite milkshake from the diner, always remembered to order his favorite beer when they went to the bar, and bought him earplugs so he could go to a Corroded Coffin show without getting a migraine.

“Oh.” Steve breathed out, his heart fluttering in his chest.

So Eddie probably liked him.

But did he like Eddie?

As Eddie turned his face into Steve’s neck, breath sending chills down Steve’s neck, he realized that he did. Probably for a while, actually.

Because when Eddie showed up with his favorite milkshake, the butterflies in his stomach would start fluttering. When he watched Eddie on stage at his concert, he’d felt so proud of him, all he wanted to do was kiss him. When they spent endless hours together while the kids argued or splashed around in Steve’s pool, he fell for him.

“Shit.”

Steve closed his eyes and hoped that they could figure everything out soon. He wanted to kiss Eddie when he was Eddie, not while he was stuck in Steve’s body.

****

When Steve woke up, he felt a dull ache in his head and a sharp pain in his neck.

He opened his eyes and frowned.

Hadn’t he fallen asleep holding Eddie?

Now Eddie was-

Steve sat up quickly, nearly falling off the couch. “Eds! Wake up!”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open. “The fuck?”

“We’re ourselves!” Steve shouted before jumping into Eddie’s lap, legs straddling Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie’s hands instinctively grabbed his hips to keep him from falling backwards in his enthusiasm and Steve’s arms wrapped around his neck to hold on.

“Head still hurt?” Eddie asked him. “And don’t lie to me.”

“A little, but not that bad,” Steve gave a comforting smile. “I promise. The ice pack must’ve helped.”

“Wayne used to get migraines when he kept switching between night shift and day shift. Used to swear by peppermint tea before he went to sleep. I could make you some?” Eddie offered, thumbs rubbing just under Steve’s t-shirt. “We’d have to go back to mine for it, but I’ll drive so you don’t have to.”

“Eds, I’m okay. But I think I’ll grab some at the store tomorrow and you can make me some next time,” Steve wrapped a strand of Eddie’s hair around his finger, much like he did earlier when it was his hair. “Did you really dream about me?”

Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m hoping the answer is yes,” Steve continued. “So if you have been, I think we could do something about making your dreams a reality.”

Eddie blinked back at him for a long minute.

“That was horrible. Is that the charm the girls always bragged about? Jesus, Stevie.”

They both laughed, Steve’s head falling forward so it rested against Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie’s hands started rubbing his back, slow and cautious, testing the waters a bit.

“I just meant that if you want me like that, I’d like to take you out.” Steve leaned back, but kept his face close enough to lean in for a kiss if Eddie let him.

“Out? On a date?”

“Out on a date,” Steve nodded. “Would you wanna?”

“Steve. I’m seriously asking this question so don’t laugh.”

“Okay…”

“Is it because you saw the size of my dick when you were in my body?”

Steve laughed so hard, he choked on his own breath. “No!” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t even see it. What the hell, Eddie.”

He shook his head, smiling fondly at Eddie, who was smirking back at him.

“You wanna see it, though, don’t you?” Eddie teased.

“I’m not a fuck on the first date kinda guy,” Steve smacked his shoulder. “But maybe for you I could be persuaded.”

“This might be the best day of my life.”

“It could be better if you kiss me.”

The moment their lips touched, Steve’s front door burst open and Robin, Nancy, and the kids rushed into his house.

“El thinks she knows what happened!” Dustin yelled.

“Okay, this is definitely not something Robin mentioned,” Mike said as he turned away from Steve and Eddie on the couch.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked, probably so done with the events of the day.

“Nothing anymore.” Steve slowly slid from Eddie’s lap, but grabbed onto his hand to hold it on his leg. “Back to normal.”

“Just like that?” Will asked.

“Yep. Just like that.”

“What if it happens again?” Nancy asked them both.

“Dunno. But if you don’t mind, we’ve got somewhere to be,” Steve said as he stood up and pulled Eddie to his feet. “We’ll let you know if it happens again!”

They both walked out of Steve’s house and got in Steve’s car.

“You think they’re gonna be here when we get back?” Eddie asked him as they pulled out of his driveway.

“Probably. But I think if we kiss in front of them, they’ll scatter pretty quick.”

“Devious.” Eddie lifted their hands and kissed the back of Steve’s hand. “Where’re you taking me?”

“Milkshakes. I think I owe you one after all the times you brought me one.”

[actuallybarb]

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

[morganbritton132]

Fan: *trying to film Corroded Coffin carrying their equipment in to a local show for their CC blog*

Steve: *trying to help by carrying Eddie’s guitar*

Eddie: Wow, that looks heavy. Need help? *grabs hold of Steve’s free hand and interlocks their fingers* Better?

[solarmorrigan]

Nothing Could Be More Important

For the @steddie-spooktober day 27 prompt: Scary Movies Rated: T | Words: 1812 | CW: some internalized ableism | Tags: established relationship, Steve Harrington has chronic pain, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, Eddie Munson takes care of Steve Harrington, hurt/comfort Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

This is shit.

This is utter shit.

Yes, fine, Steve gets that you can’t put your body through as much shit as he’s done without some kind of consequences. You can’t rack up that many injuries without later having to deal with things like migraines or, apparently, chronic pain.

And he gets that the weather tends to negatively affect him. He gets that the temperature oscillating between warm and cold like it often does in the fall is probably going to trigger an episode (something about shifts in atmospheric pressure; Dustin had explained it once, but he’d used a lot of jargon and, to be honest, Steve hadn’t retained most of it).

He gets all of that.

But today? Today of all days, when Eddie has planned something for them, when he needs Steve to be up and about and able-bodied?

Fucking bullshit.

Turning a groan into his pillow, Steve tries to stretch out, tries to work some of the tension out of his aching body, but it’s no use; his muscles pull and his joints creak in protest, and Steve deflates against the mattress with a sigh. His head is swimming, and his limbs are heavy, and the thought of having to get up already makes him want to cry out of sheer exhaustion, and – today just really isn’t going to happen, is it?

It's about the time this realization hits that Eddie chooses appear in the bedroom doorway. He’s already dressed and looking far more awake than he usually does in the mornings, and Steve wonders how late he’s slept in.

“Hey, there you are.” Eddie grins, crossing the room towards the bed. “Thought I was going to have to wake you up so we didn’t get a late start.”

Steve’s stomach sinks even further in the face of Eddie’s excitement, and something of his own dismay must show in his expression, because now Eddie is frowning and settling himself on the edge of the mattress.

“Everything okay?” he asks, reaching out and running a hand down the length of Steve’s back.

And Steve can’t help it – everything hurts, his skin hurts, and he lets out a noise of pure discomfort, flinching under Eddie’s touch.

Eddie snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned. “Steve?”

Guilt creeps up Steve’s throat, doing as much to twist his nerves as the pain itself, and he reaches out to take Eddie’s hand, threading their fingers together. His wrists and knuckles twinge, but it’s manageable.

“I don’t… think I’m going to be able to do today,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Disappointment drops immediately onto Eddie, pulling his face into frown and stooping his shoulders, and fuck if that doesn’t hurt, too.

Eddie’s been planning today since the beginning of October. They’d meant to start out in the early afternoon and make a circuit, hitting all the haunted houses, corn mazes, hayrides, and whatever else they could find in the area, making a whole day of it. This would, unfortunately, involve a ton of driving and even more walking around, two things Steve really doesn’t think he’s up for today.

It’s taken him a long time to get to the point where he can admit that he might not be able to do things, that he just needs to rest, but he hasn’t quite been able to shake the feeling of frustration and guilt that often comes with it.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “Today is a really bad day, I just– I don’t think I can be up that much.”

Eddie bites his lip. “Maybe we could just, like, take a lot of breaks? Or– no,” he backpedals, shaking his head. “Sorry, no, that’s stupid, I’m being stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Steve sighs (though he genuinely doubts the accessibility of most of the haunted attractions they’d been planning to visit, now that he thinks on it). “I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes his head again, visibly packing away his disappointment. “No apologies, it’s not your fault.” He squeezes Steve’s hand, so gentle that Steve feels like he might crack. “Do you need anything?”

“Maybe some ibuprofen?” Steve asks.

“Consider it done,” Eddie swears, melodramatic and serious as he places his free hand over his heart.

Steve offers him a wan smile and watches him go.

It takes a little more effort than he’d care to admit to get himself upright against the pillows, slow and achy as he’s feeling, and he drifts for a bit until Eddie comes back, announcing himself with the thunk of a water glass on the bedside table.

Eddie’s not only brought ibuprofen and water, but a plate of toast. When Steve inspects it more closely after taking the pills, he sees that Eddie’s spread the slices over with peanut butter—an easy way to get a little protein in when Steve may not be feeling up to eating much—and he feels a little like crying for reasons entirely unrelated to exhaustion.

He swallows back the desire to apologize again; making Eddie spend the day comforting him isn’t going to make things better. Instead, he asks, “Do you think maybe Dustin and the guys would want to go with you?”

“Nah, they’re spending the day working on their costumes,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Oh.” Steve chews thoughtfully on a piece of toast. “Maybe you could go do that, instead? I know you still have work to do on yours, so–”

“Steve, I’m not going to abandon you when you’re feeling like shit,” Eddie cuts in, apparently a little baffled by Steve’s attempts to find him a new activity for the day.

“I’m probably just going to sleep. Not very exciting.” Steve shakes his head. “I just don’t want to completely wreck your day, you know?”

Eddie frowns. “My day isn’t wrecked. Am I a little disappointed we can’t go out like we planned? Sure.” He shrugs. “But I’m not, like, upset with you over it. Shit happens, baby.” Gently, Eddie brushes Steve’s messy bangs back and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Eat your toast, let the meds kick in, take a nap, and don’t worry about it. Hopefully, you’ll feel a little better after that.”

Steve isn’t sure what to say to that, isn’t sure how to express that he wouldn’t blame Eddie for being upset, even though he’s glad he’s not, and so he decides to just do as he’s told. He eats his toast, insists on taking his own plate to the kitchen so he can at least say he’d gotten up that morning, and then finds himself back in bed shortly after that, already dozing off.

When he wakes a few hours later, he can’t quite say he feels better, but he doesn’t feel worse, and sometimes that’s a win in itself. He can hear Eddie puttering around in the kitchen when he gets up to use the bathroom, and when he pokes his head in on the way back to the bedroom, Eddie seems more animated than he had when Steve had laid down again that morning.

“Hey.” Eddie grins when he looks up from their tiny dining table—which appears be strewn with… snacks?—to see Steve in the doorway. “How’re you feeling?”

“Eh.” Steve tilts his head to the side a bit in a sort of shrug. “What’s all this?”

“While you were napping, I had an idea,” Eddie says. “You feel up to moving to the couch?”

“Sure. You gonna tell me why?” Steve asks, craning his neck to try to see around Eddie.

Eddie shoos him out of the doorway and back down the hall. “You’ll see in a minute. Get your shit and get comfy, I’ll meet you out there.”

Uncertain about what he’s meant to be getting comfy for, Steve settles on changing into a fresh set of pajamas (it’s hardly as good as a shower, but it makes him feel a little cleaner, all the same) and bringing out a blanket and extra pillow.

The smell of popcorn hits him the moment he exits the bedroom, and he finds Eddie in the living room, busying himself with something on the coffee table. There is, in fact, a bowl of popcorn, accompanied by a few bags of candy and a stack of movies.

“Tada!” Eddie turns and throws his arms up like a showman when Steve shuffles into the room.

“Movie night?” Steve asks, then glances at the clock. “Uh– movie day?”

“Yeah! I figured if we weren’t going out, we’d have to get our cheap scares some other way, so I ran out and got a few things. Check it out.” Eddie holds up the movie cases for Steve’s inspection.

There’s a whole slew of selections: Fright Night, Dawn of the Dead, The Evil Dead, Psycho, Nightmare on Elm Street – Eddie had gone all out.

“You pick,” Steve insists, turning the cases back at Eddie. “This was your idea, after all.”

Eddie spends a long few moments humming in indecision before popping Psycho into the player (“We should start with a classic”) and then ushers Steve towards the couch.

“Go ahead and stretch out, if you want,” he says, and Steve shoots him a skeptical look.

“Where are you going to sit?”

Eddie pulls a throw pillow from the stack on the couch and tosses it on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. “Boom.”

Steve maintains his skepticism. He isn’t the only one with chronic pain, after all; maybe Eddie’s never announces itself quite as dramatically, but his scars give him trouble sometimes, and his back, if nothing else, won’t thank him for spending an entire afternoon on the floor.

“I’ll be fine for, like, one movie,” Eddie insists. “Lie down already.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve does as he’s told, arranging himself on the couch until he’s about as comfortable as he’s going to get, and waits for Eddie to do the same.

“Your Raisinets, you weirdo,” Eddie says as he passes the box of Steve’s preferred movie-going candy back over his shoulder.

“I don’t have to defend my life choices to a man currently combining popcorn and candy corn,” Steve retorts.

Eddie doesn’t even pause his snack crimes, shaking the bowl of popcorn a little to get the candy corn to mix in. “As a mutual friend would say: try before you deny,” Eddie replies sagely. “Besides, it’s festive.”

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, watching as the opening scene plays out. When Eddie finally settles, leaning back against the couch, Steve lays a hand over his shoulder, stroking a thumb against his chest. “Hey.” He waits for Eddie to turn, then takes a moment to defy the screaming of his muscles and bends to press a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Thank you.”

Eddie’s answering smile is immediate. “Anytime.”

And Steve doesn’t doubt that he means it.

[steviewashere]

Thinking about writing a thing.

Steve who gets migraines that are excruciating. Like ice pick behind his eye, sensitive to scents and lights and sounds. Fatigued. Dizzy. But also nauseous.

He gets really nauseous, motion sick. But the real catch? Steve's emetophobic. If he gets nauseous, he gets anxious, but when he's anxious, he's even more nauseous. It's the kind of loop that lends itself to hours long anxiety attacks, coupled with negative stimming, coupled with the effects of a chronic migraine attack.

And then Eddie's there to try and comfort. That sort of thing.

Anyway. Will definitely be written from experience. If this is anything, let me know.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 41

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 38, part 39, part 40

“We’re back,” Wayne calls when he steps through the door. Holding it open for Eddie, who is  insisting that he can walk through by himself. Which he can, his muscles are fully capable of that now. It’s the pain that’s the problem.

At least, that’s what the doctors say. Eddie’s muscles have grown back to the state they were in before the coma. He was fully healed from that regard. It’s what put him in one that’s the larger problem. The lifelong problem.

Eddie has nerve damage. In his legs, in his arms, and minorly in his abdomen. It will affect him for the rest of his life. There’s no official healing from this. Nothing they can do.

All that can be done is find ways to cope with it. Get Eddie the aids he needs for the days his legs are weaker. Keep growing his muscles, so they get stronger. Help regain his balance. Learn to move around with different walking aids.

But none of it will cure it. Eddie will never walk the same again. He’ll never live the same. His life is forever changed.

“I got it,” Eddie snaps. Pushing Wayne away. Forcing himself to walk on his own. With his crutches. A wince with each step.

They offered to let them borrow a wheelchair, but Eddie refused. Wayne tried to push, but there was nothing he could do to change Eddie’s mind.

Eddie slams his bedroom door, locking himself in. There’s the faint whisper of music that sneaks underneath the door. Loud and angry. Wayne’s surprised the radio isn’t turned all the way up, making the house shake. The last time he did that though, it caused Steve to have a migraine. The kid was too nice to say anything about it, Wayne was the one that had to remind Eddie of the rules.

This was not their house, he couldn’t just do what he wanted because he was angry. He could be angry all he wanted, Wayne was to, but he couldn’t hurt people because of that.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” Steve stares down the hallway.

He shakes his head. “It’s a lot worse than we hoped.”

Steve lets out a deep exhale. “Dustin’s here, I’m going to give him a ride home and then we can talk about this before you go to work.”

Wayne nods. His body heavier than he left. His world a little darker than it was before. This wasn’t life ending. He should be grateful for that.

He lands in the kitchen, pulling a beer out of the fridge. Downing it faster than he’d like to, and grabs another. Savors this one. Sits down at the island and watches the condensation form.

Ten minutes later, Steve comes back. Grabs a beer of his own and sits next to Wayne.

“The kid ok?” Wayne takes a sip.

Steve shakes his head. “Came here in the middle of a panic attack because I wasn’t at work. Thought I had another migraine. I didn’t know he cared that much about them.”

“That kid loves you, of course he cares about them. He cares about you.”

“I showed him the book,” Steve says with a long sip of his beer. “We agreed to talk about it more often, so it doesn’t happen again. Hopefully that will make it better for him.”

Wayne nods along. “Hope so.”

A clock tick in the background, filling the silence. The only sounds Wayne can hear is the ticking, and the music coming from down the hall. He might be mistaken, but he can almost hear the quiet sobs Eddie’s trying to hide.

“Be easy on him tonight,” Wayne says. “It’s going to be a while until he gets used to this.”

“What did they say?” Steve’s voice sounds hollow. Already anticipating the bad news.

Wayne swallows. “He has permanent nerve damage.”

“Fuck,” Steve exhales. He wasn’t ready to hear that.

No one was.

Sometimes the world likes to crowd Wayne with all his problems. Wave after wave after wave. Never a gentle stream, where the water keeps moving. Where the problems spread out evenly, so they aren’t as overwhelming.

No, Wayne’s life gets hit by tidal waves. All of his problems coming together at once to knock him down and suck him out to sea. Making him swim back to shore, just for it to happen all over again.

“Yeah. We had to order different crutches, the ones that go around the forearm. And a cane. For him to have options. His muscles aren’t the problem, it’s the pain. The balance. He’ll need them for the rest of his life.”

Wayne finishes his beer. Gets up, had to. Because he has to be at the plant in an hour for a shift he doesn’t want to go. He wants to be here. With his kid. To go through this change together.

He’s run out of sick days and PTO. He’s run out of favors. Every missed shift is a write up, and Wayne is so close to being able to afford a house. So close to getting them a real home. One that they’ve dreamed about but knew it would never be a reality.

Now, they were so close. And there’s this house that he has his eyes one. That he’s two weeks pay out from being able to afford. If they take his offer. It’s so close.

So he has to go. He has to. To make their lives better. To get them back on their own two feet. So life can get to their new normal.

He gets himself ready for work. He leaves the house and does his job. Clocks out after eight and a half excruciating hours and comes back home. Drags himself up the flight of stairs and falls into bed.

When he wakes up, there’s an argument in the kitchen. He can hear the yelling through the floor. He gets up to go deal with it.

“Well stop hovering and we won’t have a problem,” Eddie yells.

“How was I hovering?” Steve yells right back. “All I asked was if I could get you anything.”

Eddie scowls. “I can get things for myself, thank you very much.”

“It’s my house. Do you even know where everything is?”

“I’ve lived here for three fucking weeks, Harrington, I know where things are.”

Steve crosses his arms. “Fine then. Go get it yourself. I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help all the fucking time. I’m not fucking helpless.”

“Fine,” Steve snaps. Pushing himself off the counter and toward the door. “I won’t help then.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Steve brushes past Wayne. So used to their fights now, he doesn’t even care that Wayne overheard. He shoves his shoes on and slams the door behind him. Going out to clear his head.

Wayne sighs. This has been happening more and more. Eddie won’t take help from either of them, but he hates it more when it’s Steve. Steve’s able to fight back in the way Eddie wants. Him finding the right nerves to get under his skin. Hurt them both out of anger.

He was sick of it. There was a fight almost every day now. Over something stupid. Over Eddie’s pride mixed with his pain.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Eddie grumbles when Wayne enters the kitchen.

“Too bad.” Wayne crosses his arms, fed up. “I’m fed up with your shit.”

Eddie glares at him, tears in his eyes. He pushes himself off the stool, grabbing his crutches. “I said I don’t want to hear it.” He walks down the hall and slams the door. Locking it behind him.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

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@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[idyllicwillowtree]

How Much Love

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader / gn!reader; angst with fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship

Summary: Steve has a migraine attack but he’s too stubborn to take care of himself.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: one curse word, non-descriptive vomiting, migraine symptoms, chronic pain, crying, one use of Y/N, dumb joke, p*rn reference?

Author’s note: I know the migraine thing has been overdone but idc :) I'm pretty sure this could be read as gender neutral but you can lmk if that's not the case

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Steve knew he shouldn’t have gone to work. The second his eyes opened he knew it was going to be a rough day. The persistent throbbing on the left side of his face and the twist of nausea in his stomach would be enough to convince anyone else that they should take it easy.

Not for Steve though.

He’s done this dance before. The battle in his mind of not wanting to waste one of his precious sick days or if he should stay home and take care of himself so he can make it through the next day. He usually sucked it up and went with the former.

I’ve had worse before, he’d rationalize to himself. I can handle it.

His true motivation for leaving the comfort and warmth of his bed was the date he had planned for you two. Steve went all out with flowers, chocolates, dinner reservation at Enzo’s, and concluding the night snuggled up on his couch watching a rented movie.  

But the customers kept coming. Steve could've sworn they were all there, not to rent a movie, but to exacerbate his migraine attack. Tired mothers bringing in their screaming babies, a group of smelly teenagers, and a boisterous man who was trying to convince Robin that The Godfather was the greatest movie ever made. That’s not even mentioning the flickering fluorescent lights that Keith refuses to change the bulbs in.

Robin began to take notice once Steve kept bumping into the shelves as he put away tapes around the store. She watched as he mustered up enough strength to pick up a stack of returned tapes and mindlessly put The Muppet Babies in the Horror section and something called I Dream of Weenie in the kids section.

  By 4:30, he was absolutely fried.

“Go home, dingus,” Robin ordered.

All Steve could muster was a small grunt from his spot at the register. His forehead was pressed to the cool counter, toned arms wrapped around his head, trying to keep as much noise and light out as possible.

The bell on the door of Family Video was the final nail in the coffin. People have been coming in and out all day but this time the ring pierced through the side of his head like a burning knife, swiftly penetrating his brain and twisting it for good measure. 

Steve’s back stiffened as he sat up too fast, stomach turning when he ran blindly through the store and into the bathroom before emptying out the contents of his stomach. He tried not to think about when the last time the toilet was cleaned as he kept his face in the ceramic bowl, spitting out the rest of the sour bile coating his throat.

Steve barely heard the door creak open through the throbbing in his head and the ringing in his ears, but he did notice the light in the bathroom turn off. “Go away, Robin,” he croaked out. 

The disobedient footsteps continued towards him. He just wanted to be left alone, feeling too vulnerable in this state. He felt embarrassment twist in his chest at the thought of not being able to handle a simple headache.

A cold hand landed on the back of his neck and began to massage lightly. It felt comforting but Steve’s mind was rejecting it, “Robin, I said-”

He finally lifted his heavy head, half opened eyes widened slightly as he met your concerned gaze, only for him to start welling up. Steve’s lip trembled as it failed to keep a sob from escaping.

“Oh baby,” you whispered. “Not feeling good?”

Steve hung his head the best he could with his stiff neck and shook his head in response.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Try not to move your head too much.” 

You squatted next to him on the nasty bathroom floor and gently brought him into your arms. You let him cry into your shirt, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck. Steve knew that crying would only hurt his head more, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand the emotions he was feeling yet, but he knew he was relieved to see you show up. Like a superhero, there to heal and protect him from any harm.

“I’m here now, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”

_______________________________________________

Steve was so out of it he wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew he was snuggled in a cocoon of pillows and blankets. He peeled his eyes open and recognized the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

You were puttering around the room, tidying up a little so Steve would have one less thing to worry about. He admired how natural it looked for you, knowing where everything goes and even avoiding the loud creaking spots on the floor. Steve had the sudden urge to reach out but you tucked him in so well he was having trouble slipping his arms out.

His grunt of protest over the blanket entrapment alerted you and you were by his side in an instant.

“What is it baby?” you whispered gently, “you need some water? Or a new ice pack?” 

Only when you removed the cool washcloth from his forehead did he notice the satisfying chill. He must have been practically asleep when you brought him home because he really doesn’t remember anything.

“What time is it?” Steve croaked out.

He leaned into the kiss you pressed gently to his cheek before you answered, “almost midnight.”

“What?!” Steve immediately went to sit up, but in his weakened state you were easily able to push him back down. “We had reservations!”

“I know, Stevie. It was really sweet of you to make plans but nothing we can do about it now,” you tried to reason. “We need to get you feeling better.”

“But I-”

“Stop that,” you demanded, still with a quiet and gentle tone, but it was still enough to cut him off. “Let me take care of you, Stevie. I know you feel bad, but I want to take care of you.”

Steve wasn’t sure if you meant he was feeling bad because he was sick or because of the immense amount of guilt he feels whenever he sees himself as a burden to others. Probably a little of both.

“I just…I was looking forward to tonight,” Steve muttered tiredly. “And this stupid chronic thing just always gets in the way and I don't…I don’t like asking for help.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was making much sense but your smile showed him you understood. Your expression was soft and comforting as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. “Steve, I love you. All of you. Every single part of you I just adore. It doesn’t matter if those parts are feeling bad or good, I’ll always be here,” you stroked his cheek gently with the back of your hand, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. “I like caring for you Steve. It makes me feel good. So don’t worry about burdening me or anything like that, okay?”

Steve felt his lip tremble again but managed to gulp down his sobs this time. He whispered a quiet, “thank you” before fully relaxing. He lazily pursed his lips, silently asking for affection, which you happily fulfilled. You moved in close and kissed his lips as a way to let him know you will support him during this tough time.

Once you were leaned back you said, “now, on a scale from one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”

“Mm…Eleven.”

“No, it’s Y/N.”

Silence engulfed the negative space until a curious Steve peeled one eye open, only to see your shit-eating grin. He knew you’d be frozen like that until he laughed, but your expression was usually funnier than the joke.

He puffed out a laugh through his nose before shutting his eyes again. “That was horrible,” he said.

“Maybe, but at least I got you to smile,” you said smugly.

“Mm you sure did,” he praised you lightly. “Now c’mere. Cuddling is the best medicine.”

It’s called ‘chronic pain’ for a reason. Sure you can dull the pain with medications and treatments but it’ll always be there. Sometimes all you have to do is deal with it and ride it out,  but it makes it so much easier when there’s someone there who loves and supports you. 

Love may not be able to cure all kinds of pain but Steve thinks your love comes pretty close.

thank you for reading!

Main Masterlist

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

It’s hard to be strong, sometimes.

“Nothing’s gonna fix me.”

Billy can do the heavy lifting. Can pull the freight with nothing but the sweat on his back to show for it.

“I’m jus’ gonna hurt forever.”

But this?

He isn’t strong enough for this.

“You aren’t,” he coos. “I won’t let you.”

A strained little sob hiccups out of Steve, and he simply shakes his head. The veins running up the length of his neck thump fast with his pulse, rising to the surface of his flushed skin. Tense and angry, like his eyebrows, pinched together harshly no matter how much Billy shushes and croons at him.

He’s got Steve’s face buried in his chest, shirt completely damp around the collar, and Steve’s fists tangles weakly at the sides.

Right now is probably the calmest he’s been all afternoon since this started.

Billy buries his nose in Steve’s hair and closes his eyes, arms wrapped softly around him. Grounding him in place. Smoothing carefully over his back, wary of pressing lest he cause another river of tears.

“Why does something that’s supposed to help hurt so bad?” Steve whines.

As much as Billy wants to squeeze him as tight as he can, he doesn’t. Instead settles one of his hands against Steve’s head, holding his cheek to his chest and gently stroking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” Billy admits. “Sometimes stuff doesn’t work, and you find out the shitty way.”

Steve huffs and makes a frustrated, pained sound into Billy’s shirt that’s followed by a warm wetness soaking into the fabric. Billy shushes into his hair again.

He wishes he could take the ache away. Wishes he could, even for just a moment, see what it feels like.

What could hurt so fucking bad that it has Steve crumbling into a mess of throaty sobs? Steve, who has been knocked around like a ragdoll and simply dusted himself off after?

“‘M gonna hurt forever,” he whines again.

Digs his forehead into Billy’s chest, shifting and rocking himself softly on top of him like he’s trying to physically shake the pain off, and Billy urges him to lie still with a gentle hand on his back.

“You won’t, it’ll pass.”

He tries to say it with certainty, but there’s a slight rasp in his voice to match the mist gathering in his eyes. Even when he gets Steve to fall still again.

“It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

A shaky sob leaves Steve’s lips as he curls his fingers tighter in Billy’s shirt at his sides.

“Everything,” he urges.

Presses himself down hard, muscles tense, like he’s trying to smother himself. Billy keeps his hand smoothing delicately up and down his back.

“I know, baby. Just breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Steve’s muscles shake from the effort, but he eventually listens. Inhales a shallow breath and sighs it out, drawing another one in as slow as he can manage with his elevated heart rate.

It takes a few moments, but his grip eventually eases again. He sniffles and nudges his face against Billy’s ruined shirt, huffing softly.

“It hurts,” he rasps, voice just above a whisper.

“I know, Stevie.” Billy noses a kiss into the brunet’s hair. “I know.”

They lay there like that for a while. Steve eventually tires himself out, nodding off on top of Billy even though he’s still crying. Too emotionally and physically exhausted to stay awake through the pain.

Billy just holds him. Lays his head back on the pillow once Steve’s breathing finally evens out and exhales a long sigh.

He might not be strong enough to fix Steve, because most medications aren’t even strong enough for that.

He supposes that being strong enough to love Steve will suffice, though.

Then at least he doesn’t have to suffer it alone.

[dreamwatch]

STWG daily drabble - 28/09/23

Prompt: horse

Warnings: mentions of chronic pain

This is the longest thing I have ever shared, and the weirdest thing I have ever written. I have literally zero idea where this came from. It's not beta'd, apologies for typos etc. This is just shy of 2.5k words, so yeah... not so Drabble actually.

****

“So, what’s on your mind today, Eddie?”

He sees Doctor Pearcey every Wednesday at 2pm. Has done now for two months. And it’s the first thing she says to him every time he sits down. What’s on your mind today, Eddie? He’s responded in various ways. With anger. With humour. With distrust. On one particularly memorable day, with silence, which Doctor Pearcey matched in spades. The two of them sat there for an hour and didn’t say a single word. Eddie wanted to peel his skin off about ten minutes into it.

He’s in more pain than usual today, has a lower tolerance for her psychobabble mumbo jumbo, so he’s already looking to derail the session before he gets in the room.

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” Eddie asks her.

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“Hmm, couple of times.”

There’s silence for a minute or so. It’s like they’re playing therapy chicken, who gives in and speaks first? It’s usually him.

“I like them. Like how fast they are, you know? How free you feel on them.” He digs his thumb into the leather of the armchair, leaving little crescent nail marks.

“And what’s got you thinking about that today?”

The beautiful purple Kawasaki he passed on his way here today would be the easy answer. But when did he ever do anything easy?

“Wayne hates them. I’ve been wanting one for years, but he begged me not to. Asked me to wait till I was twenty one. I think he thought I would just grow out of it.” 

“And have you?”

“Fuck no. I want one more than ever.”

She waits.

“I’m twenty one next week, and I won’t be getting a motorcycle because my leg is fucked, and I can’t twist or move properly.” He doesn’t bother hiding the bitterness. “It doesn’t matter, I mean, it’s whatever at this point, just another thing I can’t do, add it to the fucking pile, right?”

He changes the subject and she follows along behind waiting for breadcrumbs. Eventually their time comes to an end and he’s desperate to get out.

“Do you trust me, Eddie?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “You work for the spook agency that started this fucking nightmare. So, no, not really.”

She smiles back. “That’s fair.” She walks to her desk and scribbles a note before handing it to him. Eddie takes it from her like it’s poisonous.

“Meet me at that address on Sunday. Two PM. I’ll be waiting.”

And that is definitely not how the sessions usually end.

——

Wayne is working so Steve offers to take him. And Eddie isn’t going to say no to spending some time with him, especially when he’s walking into the unknown. Although the unknown appears to be…

“A horse sanctuary? Why the fuck does she want to meet you at a horse sanctuary?”

“Maybe she’s going to shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

Steve slaps him against the chest with the back of his hand. “Dude.”

“Sorry.” 

He sees her standing at a fence watching a couple of horses wander around the paddock. The ground is a little rough below his feet and his leg has been a complete nightmare all week, so Steve walks with him, hand gently resting at Eddie’s elbow as he traverses the uneven ground with his cane. It makes him grateful and fucking furious all at the same time. Such is his life these days.

“You came. I’m glad,” she says, smiling brightly.

“Well, my curiosity door was opened,” replies Eddie and Steve stifles a laugh beside him.

Steve heads back to the car, squeezes Eddie’s elbow gently, before saying goodbye to the Doc. She watches the exchange intently, and Eddie feels entirely scrutinised. He hasn’t spoken about Steve in the sessions, has no intention of doing so and the last person he would want to know about it is someone that works for the fucking feds.

“So, why am I here, exactly?”

“I thought you might like to get out of that stuffy office for a change. You never seem very comfortable.”

Eddie laughs. “Uh huh, and what is it that gave you the impression I’d be comfortable in a field full of horses?”

She shrugs. “Humour me.”

See, it was shit like that that drove Eddie crazy. Humour me. It’s Sunday. Right now he could be lying on his bed playing guitar, reading, hanging out with Steve. He could be jerking off. All of which was preferable to standing in a field full of horseshit.

“Okay, well I’m not in a humorous mood, so I’m going to leave you to your equine endeavours.” He turns to leave.

“There’s someone I want you to meet. Before you go. Will only take a minute.” The Doc waves at a stable hand and a few minutes later Eddie is face to face with a beautiful white horse.

“I swear to god, if you tell me his name is Shadowfax…”

She laughs. “No, this is Tony. Tony, meet Eddie.” Tony whinnies, nodding his head up and down, his mane blowing gently in the wind. Eddie smiles. God damn her.

Eddie reaches over the fence to stroke Tony. This gorgeous, graceful animal, and it’s called fucking Tony.

“He’s beautiful. How come he’s here?”

“He was a race horse, I believe. But he was slow, didn’t make his owners any money. So now he gets to live here and lead a good life.”

“Doesn’t he miss racing? Like, aren’t they bred for that? What does he do all day if he can’t race anymore?”

“It wasn’t meant to be. But he’s patient, and kind and now he helps people learn to ride. And he’s very, very good at that.” She turns to face him, one arm hooked over the fence. “You said you were disappointed at not being able to ride a motorcycle? Correct?”

Where the fuck was this going? 

“Yeah… ?”

“Why ride a steel horse when you can ride the real thing?”

Eddie splutters. “You have to be kidding me?” She just keeps smiling. He stares at her, open mouthed and wide eyed. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I’m fucking serious,” she says, with a glint of mischief. “You wanted the freedom and the excitement of riding. Well, I’m offering it to you. Or, Tony’s offering it to you, really.”

He looks between her and Tony. “Did you miss the part about my leg being fucked? How the hell am I even supposed to get up there? And what if I fall? No, absolutely not.”

The Doc gives him a long hard stare. “Do you trust me?” she ask him.

“No.”

“The sanctuary has a programme for disabled riders. Tony is the best of the best. You’d be perfectly safe. Come on, Eddie. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“This was… very nice, I guess, of you to think about this, but no. Sorry. It’s not the same as a bike, like at all. I have control of the bike, my bike can’t just run off and start jumping over fences and shit.”

“No, but your bike’s not smart. Tony is smart. He’s kind. He feels his rider, he knows what they need, knows when they’re scared. He fills in the gaps, takes the lead when a rider needs it, hands them back control when they don’t. He can guide you. Look after you. Your bike can’t do that.”

He feels his resolve wane. He sighs. Animals, they get him every time.

“People get hurt riding horses.”

“Sure, but they don’t call motorbikes donorcycles for nothing, Eddie.” Touché.

He shakes his head, this is such a stupid idea, but eventually that little pixie voice in his head just says fuck it, and within fifteen minutes he’s wearing a very unflattering helmet, climbing a mounting block and being helped into the saddle on Tony’s back.

He feels like he’s going to slip off the other side, and every time Tony moves his head forward toward the ground Eddie panics because it feels like he’ll just lean forward and drop like a rock to the ground. It's incredibly disorienting.

Eddie grips the reins so hard he sees his knuckles go white until the instructor shows him how to hold them properly. They show him how to guide Tony but ultimately Tony is doing all the work here, Eddie is just along for the ride. 

He’s led around the paddock, and yeah, he feels stupid at first, self conscious sitting up in the air for everyone to see. But eventually he gets into the swing of it, and it’s… nice. Nerve wracking, but nice.

They’re going at walking speed, he can feel the rhythmic sway of Tony’s body, and it’s comforting. Why is it comforting? It’s not exactly the Kentucky Derby, but he can’t stop himself from grinning.

Eddie knows fuck all about horses, less than fuck all actually, but if he didn’t know better he’d say that Tony was enjoying himself. And as much as he hates that she’s right, he feels at peace. Feels like he trusts this animal, who he literally just met, but who seems to be having a ball wandering around with this asshole on his back.

“Wanna pick it up a bit?” asks the instructor and Eddie’s about to say ‘fuck no’ when Tony comes to a stop. Like he knows Eddie’s not sure. Eddie strokes along Tony’s thick, white mane, and pats his shoulder. 

“Eurgh, yeah, shit, okay,” he says before leaning forward and whispering in Tony’s ear, “look after me, okay? Cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing up here.” Tony answers with a swooping nod of the head and then they’re off.

They’re barely going any faster as Tony trots around the paddock, but Eddie can definitely feel the difference. The soft, comforting sway has been replaced by a harder jolt. He’s going to pay for it tomorrow, can already feel it in his hips and back, and he hasn’t got the strength in his leg to properly push up from the stirrups, but it doesn’t matter.

The last time he was on a motorcycle he was seventeen, and it belonged to a friend of Reefer Rick’s. He was riding pillion and they were going way over the speed limit, and he’d never felt more alive, more free. He was young enough and dumb enough to think he’d never get hurt. He was invincible at seventeen. He wasn’t even a little bit scared of falling off. The folly of youth. 

In three short years the folly of youth has been replaced with constant dread and a little bit of paranoia.

This isn’t the same as that careless charge up the highway, not by a long shot, but it’s exciting in it’s own way, like going on a roller coaster instead of walking through an alternate universe.

He feels at peace. A moment in time when he’s not having to think about doctors appointments, worrying about Wayne, worrying about his future. His life has got so small since March. The kids are at school and he’s not, but he can’t work so he spends endless unfilled hours at home, waiting for other people to have space for him.

The constant churn in his mind slows, his thoughts empty, his worries silence. 

They go back to a steady walk, Tony’s body lilting from side to side, a gentle rock. Eddie already loves him. He’s a fucking sap. Horses? Rich people pets? No way man, not for him. But this guy, this is Eddie’s guy now.

As they turn in the paddock he sees Steve leaning over the fence, grinning.

“Nice hat!” Asshole.

Eddie flips him off but Steve just laughs, sunglasses pushed back up on his head. Steve can read him like a book, and Eddie knows he can see it. The complicated emotions today is bringing out in him. The joy and the excitement and the little bit of sadness. Steve raises his eyebrows, that little silent okay? Eddie smiles shyly and nods in response. They’ll talk properly later, when Eddie is trying to unpack everything.

It’s over too soon. Eddie’s helped down and fuck, yeah he’s in a little pain now, but Jesus it was so worth it. He pats Tony, strokes his neck, tells him what a beautiful boy he is, and Tony leans over nudges his nose against the side of Eddie’s face. There is a conversation happening between them, just this little quiet acknowledgement of something. Eddie doesn’t want to leave him. He feels… changed, weirdly. Like it was spiritual. Like something inside him got cracked open just a little.

“So?”

Doctor Pearcey stands behind him, looking pretty pleased with herself. 

He tilts his head to the side, makes a big show of it. “Yeah, it was okay.” Eddie knows she sees through his bullshit. They’ll be talking about this next week. No need to go through it all now.

They head back to the car, Steve at his elbow again, and Doctor Pearcey hands him a card with the sanctuary number on. “Just in case you’d like to come back.”

He does. Wayne is going to enjoy giving him shit, and he doesn’t even want to think of the number of jockey jokes in his future, but he really does want to do this again.

The car ride is quiet on the way home, just the sound of some top forty shit in the background, but Eddie’s mind is elsewhere. He feels still, his head is clear and quiet. Ridiculously relaxed.

“How’s your ass?” asks Steve.

Eddie grins. “Haven’t had any complaints.”

“Jesus Christ.” But he’s laughing. They’re both laughing.

“So, you want to do it again? We can make it regular, I’ll just make sure Keith doesn’t schedule me for Sundays.”

Eddie stares at the side of Steve’s face. This guy. This fucking guy. 

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would.” Steve looks studiously out at the road, hands firmly at ten and two. “I’d do anything for you.”

Eddie feels like he’s skipped a breath, but tentatively reaches his hand across the console and pokes at Steve’s thigh. Steve takes a hand off the wheel, reaches blindly to find Eddie’s, gives it a little squeeze before letting go. They don’t look at each other.

He leans back in his seat, imagines Tony, galloping, mane trailing behind him in the wind. Just beautiful.

Why the fuck did they call him Tony?

[starrystevie]

steve has good days and not so good days. they intermix often, some weeks with more good than not so good and vice versa. there are months that pass by in a lovely wave of only good days which normally consist of sunshine outside his window and a certain curly head in his bed. the not so good are actually not so bad and can be coddled with a kiss and arms around him. they aren't fun, but they're manageable; he still feels like a person even if head is telling him otherwise.

but along with the good, there has to be the bad. the days where it's harder to get out of bed even if a certain curly head is pulling at his arms and heartstrings. days where his head is foggy, the memory of something so clearly there but it's impossible to wipe away the condensation that covers the looking glass into the past. days where his bones ache and he wants -needs- to pass it off as an incoming storm messing with his joints but he knows it's not. days where he doesn't speak, his throat feeling tight with anger and frustration, afraid that when he does let out a sound that it'll only be a scream.

waking up on his birthday, what's supposed to be a good day, with a ringing in his ears that keeps him on a dizzying ledge is never a good sign. he has eddie standing in the doorway and he sees him mouth something, or maybe he whispers it, and he has on that soft simple smile that has steve craving to know what he said. the ringing muffles whatever he says next and he knows it's something lovely because eddie's lovely and only has lovely poetic things to tell him on special days.

but steve can't hear it.

the sunlight is beautiful and it breaks his heart. he can see specks of dust floating through the rays and sees the way it paints eddie's curls golden and he can't help but wish it wasn't so goddamn bright in their room because it hurts his head even more than usual. eddie senses it because of course he does; he's able to read steve like the book with a broken spine and frayed pages that he is.

the curtains are pulled closed leaving a red hue over the room and there's a kiss pressed between his furrowed eyebrows. steve sighs, melts into eddie's touch, chases after him with open arms like a child for a lingering birthday hug.

"the ringing, it's- i can't hear today," steve breathes out, afraid to whisper because even that can be too much. it happens on bad days where all he can hear is his own dampened voice rattling in his skull. he never talks above a whisper, afraid that his voice will be loud and booming when he feels too small to handle it.

"i know," eddie says slowly and his eyes follow steve's down as he watches the words form on his lips. his hand cups steve's cheek and it's warm and grounding and he feels he can breathe again. steve doesn't have to read lips to know his next 3 muttered words that are followed with a kiss, the words that are stamped on his heart, the words that a brain which struggles with memory can't take away.

it's a bad day that should have been a good day mixed in between some maybe not so bad days. but he has eddie. eddie who pulls the curtains closed and holds him like he matters and lets his fingertips run over steve's temples in the barest of soothing touches like he could take away the pain because he wills it so. and if he has eddie, the bad days can never really that bad, can they?

[decodedlvr]

As long as I’m with You

Steve Harrington x You (short)

Summary: Steve wakes up to another bad night you’ve had this week

Warnings: hurt/comfort, talks of poor physical and mental health, doctors, suicidal ideation, medication use, drug use, chronic health issues, BPD if you squint, disabilities, use of the word “girl” x times, negative self talk, mentions of sex, angst, fluff~~

This is based off my own experiences and inspired by my pal Morgan’s version; feel free to check hers out

Tick tick tick

The clock strikes 12 and then 1, 3, 5am in the morning, no sleep no rest it’s an every day cycle. The same shitty cycle.

It’s a new year, but not a new you.

Sitting in your walker in front of the excruciatingly bright television screen, high as a kite, everything in existence running through your mind 100 mph, sometimes the weed helps the pain. Sometimes it induces it or even makes it worse. Right now it’s doing nothing for you. Looking over at your loved one sound asleep. You don’t want to bother him with your whines or crying. So you just sit there silence, tears rolling down your cheeks; while you watch some bullshit on YouTube.

Sniff Sniff

“Baby?”

Shit.

“..yea?” you say in a whispered tone

“Are you ok? what’s wrong?”

“Ah, you already know”, you’ve used that line probably over a million times

Steve comes along your side expecting a few dried tears, but his eyes widen when he’s sees the collar around your shirt bitten, snot dribbling down your mouth and throat, crouching down, he lies his head onto your thigh looking up at you, “Talk to me sweetheart”

“No.”

“Hey, I know you’re hurting”—

“GOOD FOR YOU! Congratulations you know I’m hurting, you know I’ve been hurting for fucking years. I’m glad you’ve acknowledged it unlike some people”you sniffle getting up in a hurry to take a piss as he follows with sad eyes leaning against the door frame

“I’m fucking tired, I’m so goddamn exhausted nobody will ever know what I’m dealing with!”, you say wiping your ass not bothering to wash your hands, “I can’t do anything I can’t run, I can’t jump, can’t go to the stupid, fucking grocery store without one of those motorized carts.. my back hurts, my fucking knees are throbbing, stupid fucking nerves won’t calm down FUCK! It’s not like I can get in the bathtub to calm my muscles down. Nothing is helping! No medication, no PT, no injections, no nothing! Why?? am I just resistant to any source of help or treatment? I-I can’t even lay in the goddamn bed to sleep. That’s all I have left is rest!! What is rest!? I don’t know what the hell that even is”

“I know baby I know”—

“NO YOU DONT STEVE, all you know is what you see. I wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy, my worst enemy to feel what I feel. That’s how bad it all hurts. The most evil, sick and twisted person in this world, I would never wish this upon. I just..”, getting dizzy you collapse on the bed sobbing into your own hands, then eventually into Steve’s shoulder as he rocks you, tears spilling from his own eyes—

“Nobody cares, nobody wants to help me. nobody cares unless I’m rich and can afford to give them any and ALL the things off my back, but I can’t. Even with the money you make it will never be enough to help the poor girl who’s too young to have any kind of issue. It’s “all in my head” I’m just fucking crazy. I could break my own neck and still be told it’s only from anxiety. Nobody cares just”—

“I care” he exhales

“It doesn’t matter if you care, all your care is useless, all your help is worthless to me because it gets me nowhere. Nobody’s love and care gets me nowhere. It’s nothing all but fucking false hope. Don’t you get that? None of you still to this day seems understand that. Stop praying for me to get better. It’s never going to happen. I can’t take it anymore.. I just wanna die! All I wish for is to die but, I can’t even have that. It’s like all of you want me here, to live and suffer for the rest of my life for y’all, it’s not fair, fuck that”, your trembling, body in fight or flight

“Don’t say that, you know I’d do anything to take your pain away”

“It doesn’t matter what you’d do because you’re not a doctor. You’re not a professional, you can’t help me get better.. sucks to hear but it’s the truth Steve..fuck”—

Steve’s really trying not to beat himself up over your words, he knows you’re in pain, it comes from a place of anger, frustration and fear

“I have all these pain medications I could easily take all at once, so I’ll never have to wake up in this position ever again. Why can’t I do it huh? I could end right here right now you never have to suffer again, but I just d-don’t; If anything, I’m the most selfless person for staying alive for YOU just so I can be alive but in pain all over again for YOU!”, your tone getting higher and higher in pitch

“I-I’m sorry.. I wish I knew the right words to say baby”, he’s trying his best to stay strong for you

“You’ve got to be sick of me, tired of me. All I do is cause more money to come out of your pockets, more exhaustion, more burdening, more crying, more everything bad for you. You already deal with your own shit. I do nothing but make your own mentality worse, hell you’re making your own self worse being with a person like me. A broken and useless excuse of a human being. You deserve somebody who can go hiking with you, go to the beach, travel with, who can do the bare minimum. Can’t even fuck you properly—

“STOP! Stop that right now” he shouts

You freeze because he’s never raised his voice at you, atleast not on purpose at such a vulnerable time

“I hate it too. You know it hurts me to know that you hurt and I’m sorry that I can’t take the pain away from you. My sweet, sweet girl I’m so sorry that nobody has given you the chance to hear your voice, to help heal you..but I’m gonna make you the same promise I make you almost every single night. As long as I’m with you, I will try my best with all my power to make it a little bit more bearable for you to be here, and I am so grateful that you are still here and choose to be here with me for us to be together. I know you hurt, but as long as you’re with me, I’m going to do my best to put a smile on your pretty face, beautiful sunshine of a smile because you’re my sunshine.. y-your smile gives me life did you know that?”

You nod. He tells you all the time

“I- I’m tired for wishing to feel ok for my birthdays, every Christmas. All the shirts and posters you got me for Christmas? I haven’t even touched them yet, you know why? Because the selfish person in me doesn’t give a fuck about none of it. The only thing I care about and want and NEED is pain relief and that’s too much to ask for isn’t it? Apparently wanting to be better in the world it’s too much to ask for”

“You deserve to feel better”, he says while his hand travels up your back to rub your tense neck, “You deserve to be free from all of this and I can’t give that to you. You’re not selfish baby you’re hurting. I love you for you. I knew what I was signing up for, and if I didn’t want that I wouldn’t be here right now with you. I know the sacrifices Ill have to make, the tears I’ll have to shed, the strength it’ll take me to pick you up when you’re down, but I fell in love with you, how you are, and who you are”

“Who are you kidding Steve, you don’t even know who I am. The real me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I wish you met me when I wasn’t sick then maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed out a-and.. and,” you start sobbing again, it’s all too overwhelming

“Hey, hey look at me, no. I met you at the right time. You need me just as much as I need you. You may not think you’re worth nothing but you’re worth everything to me. Yeah you have a good and bad days..—

“I’ve had nothing but bad days for the past few months Steve”-

“I know, I see it, I hear it and I witness it, I may not can feel it, but at the end of it all, you still love me. You’re still here. You still want to cook for me. You still get up to brush your teeth and I’m so proud of you for still trying to care for yourself. That’s the biggest job you’ll ever have, and it’s been a very hard job hasn’t it?

You nod, as he nods with you

“Yeah, it has, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I want to provide for you. I want to take care of you. You’re my girl, you deserve so much and as long as I’m with you, I will try every day, every hour, every second or minute, to make sure you know how loved, how great and how amazing you are. How great and amazing you’re doing for yourself and for me. How strong you are”—

—“im tired of having being strong all the time”, interrupting him

“I know you are. You are so strong for being on this earth, even when you don’t want to be. I wouldn’t ask for anybody else, you’re it for me always. Will you continue to let me try to make it better for you every day? To take care of you?”, he squats in front of you, cupping your wet cheeks, kissing your forehead

“But Stevie.. you know you’re getting your own hopes up because nothing you do helps either and I feel like a piece of shit for saying that because”—

“I know what you mean, you don’t have to be sorry. I understand you may not have hope but I do. All my Hope goes towards you and it always will. You are the most important thing in my life. I’m not gonna give up on you, on me or on us, ok sunshine?”

..”okay”, you repeat rubbing your temples

“Head hurt, darling?”

“yes”

“From crying too hard?”

You nod, looking away in shame, “It’s okay, I’ll get your Migrane cap from the freezer and i’ll set your pillows up how you like, just sit tight”, he says it standing then pausing at the doorway, looking over his shoulder, “I love you”

“luv you—

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you” he exclaims

“I said love you gosh.. shut up”, you barely crack a smile

That was enough to get him through the rest of the night.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Hellfire night is happening post spring break from hell, it's at the apartment of Steve & Eddie. Steve has an intense migraine & chronic pain flare ups. He can barely make it through the door. Eddie has to bring Steve but Steve is in pain and wants to stay close to Eddie. So they play dnd with Steve essentially curled up on the couch near Eddie.

MY DARLING!!!! STEVE SUFFERING TIME!!! I know I shouldn't make him suffer so much, but it's just that he's so easy to make suffer. But this one is so so soft, and so comforting. Steve is loved so much, it makes the hurt not so hurt-y. As a migraine sufferer myself, there are times when I genuinely consider just laying on the floor and hoping I pass out so I don't have to feel it anymore. I do base a lot of Steve's experiences off of my own (though mine is less head trauma and more genetics), but I hope other people can see themselves in it and get some comfort, too. I also used a new little cute term of endearment inspired by one of my favorite regular customers at my last job who called his wife of 64 years sweet love from the day they met, even when he was talking to other people about her. - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------

If he’d gotten his shift covered at work today, he probably wouldn’t be in so much fucking pain.

But he needed the money, and when he first woke up, the pain wasn’t that bad. He’d had worse.

After hours of customers asking him to reach the top shelf, screaming babies and children not getting the ice cream or candy they wanted, and a few too many old men complaining about the prices of bread, Steve’s headache escalated from minor pain to unbearable, and had spread throughout his body.

He’d gotten somewhat used to the aches he sometimes woke up with, the throbbing pains in his joints when he spent too long on his feet or tried to do too much exercising. Some days were less tolerable than others, but today was the worst he’d had in a while.

Every breath stung, his lungs pushing against his ribs, his ribs pushing against his skin, his skin on fire.

And when he arrived at his apartment, he knew it was about to get worse.

He could hear Eddie, his booming voice painting a picture for all of Hellfire. He didn’t need to see him to know he was probably standing on his chair or, more dramatically, the table.

Any other time, Steve would be endeared, would walk in and say hi to everyone, give Eddie a kiss on the cheek before he made his way to the shower and then make snacks for the group.

Tonight, though, Steve didn’t even know if he could make it past the couch.

Or to it, for that matter.

Maybe he could just use the rug at the door as a pillow for the night. Everyone could step over him as they left, or maybe they could all just stay the night so he wouldn’t get woken up.

He was shaking with the effort to make it through the door, the key missing the lock the first couple of tries because his hands kept wobbling.

Eventually, he got inside.

He leaned back against the door, his body screaming at him to be horizontal instead of vertical. He let out a groan, which hurt more than he planned.

The dining room area got quiet.

“Stevie? That you?” Eddie’s voice sounded concerned, even without seeing his face to confirm.

He couldn’t answer. It hurt to even think about answering.

He let his eyes close, the pain in his head dulling for just a moment with the light from the living area being extinguished. It wasn’t even that bright, just one lamp in the corner and one on the table by the couch, but it still felt blinding when he opened his eyes again.

Eddie was standing in front of him now, hands reaching towards him but hesitating to actually touch.

“What’s hurting, sweet love?”

All Steve could do was let out a small whimper, and even that was more pain than it was worth.

“Everything?” Eddie whispered, getting closer, but still not touching. Steve could almost feel the heat coming off of Eddie’s constantly too-hot skin.

“Mm.”

“Alright, you wanna go to the couch?”

Yeah, he did, but he didn’t think he could make it. But as always, Eddie read his mind.

“I’ll carry you if it’s okay to lift you,” he suggested quietly.

“Mm.”

“Okay, assuming that’s a yes,” Eddie responded at the same volume as before, though Steve knew he was smirking, could hear the way his mouth was curled up at the corner, amused.

Before Steve could even try to form a response, Eddie’s arms were under his legs and back, lifting him up and cradling him against his front.

Pain shot through his entire body, but he bit his lip so he wouldn’t make a noise. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad about something outside of their control.

“‘S okay, angel. Let it out.”

He let out another whimper, louder than the last. He heard footsteps coming into the room and assumed everyone here for Hellfire had decided to check in.

He opened one eye, but immediately regretted it, inhaling sharply as he squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Can someone shut off the lamps?” Eddie asked as he managed to set Steve down slowly, gently on the couch.

Eddie’s fingers were barely brushing along his forehead, moving his hair away from his face with the lightest possible touch.

Steve felt a tiny bit of relief from laying down, though his head decided to start pulsing as it lay flat against the cushion.

“Lap?” Steve asked, forgetting for a moment what he’d walked home to: the weekly D&D campaign.

Eddie needed to be a DM for them, he couldn’t sit out here with Steve.

“Alright, everyone grab the stuff, we’re using the coffee table. I don’t need my notes or screen so leave it, and so help me, if I suspect any of you looked at them, I will kill you all in a trap,” Eddie said from the floor next to Steve.

Steve could hear light footsteps moving out of the room and then Eddie’s whispers in his ear.

“Gonna lift your head for just a minute while I sit. Want you to turn so your face is looking at me, it’ll block out the light when we turn them back on. I can rub your shoulders and back that way too.”

Steve couldn’t really nod, but he tilted his head up just a bit to show he was okay with it, though they both knew it would be painful.

Eddie was fast though, didn’t want him to suffer a single second longer than he absolutely had to.

Before Steve could process the zing of pain through his head and neck, he was already situated as comfortably as possible on Eddie’s lap, face turned into his stomach.

One of Eddie’s hands gently cupped the back of his head, holding him steady so he could completely relax.

He did, or as much as he really could with the level of pain he was at.

“You take anything?” Eddie asked as his other hand started slowly rubbing his shoulder, just a light pressure to ease him into more touch.

“Mhm.”

He’d taken something at lunch, and then again when he got off of work and didn’t think he’d be able to drive home without something in his system.

It seemed like it was actually kicking in now, though that could also be Eddie’s practiced attention to all the worst areas of pain.

The kids were slowly coming into the room, Steve could hear them setting things on the coffee table as quietly as possible, whispering amongst themselves.

It was suddenly extremely hot in the room, and Steve knew that was just part of the crash as the medicine kicked in further. Normally, he was alone or only with Eddie, and could strip and lay on cool sheets with a fan blowing on him, but he couldn’t with the kids here.

He knew if he asked, they would go. They were good kids, and they’d understand, and Eddie could reschedule for the next day since he was off.

But he didn’t want them to have to rearrange everything because of him, not when Eddie was so excited about a new character introduction for tonight.

“Alright guys, gonna have to keep it to a whisper,” Eddie said, the rise and fall of his stomach as he breathed lulling Steve into a calm state, though not quite sleeping.

Eddie continued to run the campaign, everyone being as quiet as possible, only Dustin having to be reminded once to keep his voice down when he got a bit overexcited about getting past the guards surrounding the water they had to dive in to get to some kind of map.

It was all very complicated to Steve, and he couldn’t keep on a good day.

Eddie’s hands rested on his body the entire time, slowly rubbing circles into any part they could reach, fingers running slowly through his hair.

Steve drifted at some point, and when he woke up, the room was pitch black and Eddie’s hands had stilled, resting on his arm and head.

Steve blinked up at him, moving his head only enough to squint up at Eddie’s face.

He was passed out, mouth wide open, head leaned back along the back of the couch.

He had no idea what time it was, or how long they’d been like this, but he wasn’t going to wake him up.

He noticed the pain in his head had dulled to just the occasional sharp pinch in his forehead and most of his joints seemed like he could move them without wanting to crumble to the ground.

He slowly rolled onto his back, but Eddie let out a loud snore and immediately opened his eyes when he felt the movement.

“You okay?” He rasped.

“Better,” Steve smiled up at him, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. “Thanks for taking care of me, baby.”

“Anytime, sweet love. You wanna move to the bed?”

“Can we take a bath first?”

Eddie looked over at the clock.

“It’s past midnight, are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just wanna relax in a bath with you for a bit.”

Eddie leaned down to kiss him.

Sometimes he did that; Just kissed him instead of using words to reply, showing him instead of telling him in the best way.

These kisses were different from his other kisses. They were softer, less hungry, loving in a way that Steve didn’t think words could even say.

“Let’s go relax in the bath, then.”

“Did the game go okay?” Steve asked as he slowly sat up.

“Yeah. Kids were worried about you.”

“I’m okay. You told them I’m okay, right?”

“I told them you’d be okay. They just love you,” Eddie said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

“I love them, too.”

“You’re kind of our north star, Stevie.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. We’re a bit lost without you. That’s why it’s hard to see you hurting like that. Not just for me, but for all of us.”

“I’m fine now.”

Eddie didn’t respond, left a kiss on his forehead, and started walking towards their bathroom.

“Come be fine in the bath with me!” He said over his shoulder.

Steve obliged. He’d be fine anywhere as long as Eddie was there to take care of him.

[klausinamarink]

saw a post from @flowercrowngods asking about steddie going through chronic pain and i thought to give it an attempt. Just a quick disclaimer though I do not personally have chronic pain but I did my best to write it respectively!

Edit: now with part 2!

— —

Eddie should get out of bed.

He’s all too aware of how much of the day he’s wasting and losing by lying down, but his leg is in pain again. And not in a “my leg is full of TV static and I can’t move it for a minute” way. His leg was in the state of fine until I moved to get up and now it feels like the bones are dissolving and my skin is having that falling apart sensation and it’s making this a problem for the rest of my body, which is becoming frustratingly common these days.

It’s totally unfair because he was supposed to start the Hellfire oneshot he had kept promising this afternoon. Eddie had been feeling fine the past three days aside from the usual leg static and itchiness from his scars. He had been getting more good days! He should be outside and interacting with his friends again! 

But that wasn’t going to happen. Not with the agony making its slow travel to his back and the left side of his face now twitching, which created a headache.

“Jesusssss.” Eddie groans aloud. He tries to move further into his pillow, but now the pain is rushing to his torso and pressing against it. Another agonizing spike in his right ear right down to the eardrum. Again, the pain zigzagged to his left foot and his right hand. 

He stayed in bed. He might have wept but Eddie had always been good at crying quietly. He knew he can’t call for Wayne because he was at work and his arms now hurt to even pick up the bedside phone. 

The pain went to the back of his neck, reopening his scars and cracking his ribcage. Maybe not literally, but at this point, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He soon falls asleep at some point, considering there’s really nothing else to do. Then he’s slowly brought back to consciousness by a soft humming and careful fingers brushing through his hair.

“Steve?” He croaks out, opening an eye carefully to see his boyfriend (oh sweet heavens he actually has a boyfriend!!) right next to him on the bedside. Steve smiles  softly at him.

“Hey, Eds, another day?” 

Eddie gives the tiniest of nods, swallowing down a wince from the bare movement. 

“Is it your leg, your hand, or all over?”

“All over. My fucking body hates me.” 

Steve gently tugs one of his locks. “You mean our bodies hates us.”

“Get out of here.”

“No way. I can’t be a shitty boyfriend if I’m leaving you to die alone.” Steve moves to stand up but pauses. “Do you want the towel treatment or-“ 

“Please.” Eddie nearly chokes out.

“Alright, be right back.” 

A few minutes later, Steve is back at his side, carefully and deliberately wiping Eddie’s face with a soaked towel. It’s a weird and probably nefficient method, but Eddie had found that in these days where his body is torturing himself, he needed some sort of coolness for his skin. He couldn’t take off his clothes but the damp towel on his face and hands was enough to ease it.

Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t stand the Wet Towel even if his muscles ached and his arms burned. Mostly, Eddie would lay on top of him and his body weight would provide Steve much needed ease.

Maybe their own coping methods for the flare ups were weird by medical standards, but they’re both still alive.

Mostly.

“I was supposed to start Hellfire today.” Eddie mutters as Steve brings the towel to his right hand. “An oneshot. Short and fun.”

“I know.” Steve says kindly, “the kids felt that you weren’t coming so Dustin radioed me to check on you.”

“Sweet of him.”

“Yeah, everyone is.” 

“Not as sweet as you, big boy.” Eddie sticks his tongue out playfully. 

Steve smirks, pressing the towel back on Eddie’s forehead. “How’s it now?”

“Not as horrible, but I can’t trust myself to move.” The pain is traveling less but now his ears are thumping weirdly and his leg is practically vanishing with the other parts of his body, numb and barely unaffected. 

“That’s okay, Eds, I’m still here.” Steve gives him a light peck on his cheek where there’s another demobat scar, but smaller than the one overtaking his left side. “I’ll finish soon, but I’m not leaving anytime soon.” 

He says it with a soft squeeze on Eddie’s hand. He smiles back and closes his eyes, relishing on the dampness on his bare scarred skin, trying to ignore the rest of the pain that’s forever settling underneath and deeper. 

[morganbritton132]

Eddie goes live on Tiktok and he is laying in bed. He doesn’t have a shirt on so a lot of his newer fans are seeing his scars for the first time. They’re also hearing the stiffness in his voice when he says, “No one tells you when you’re young, cool, and being eaten alive that one day you’re going to need to see a masseuse once a week if you don’t want your body to feel like it’s turning to stone.”

You can see Steve moving in and out of frame on his crutches while Eddie monologues, “And then your masseuse is going to go into labor the day of your appointment and you’re not going to be able to get in with anybody. And you’re in so much fucking pain.”

“I can call Max if you want.”

“Last time Max gave me a massage, she almost killed me.”

Steve appears in frame again with a heating pad and a bunch of different lotions, “What do you want to smell like.”

“Anything, just touch me, please.”

It looks physically painful for Eddie to move enough for Steve to get the heating pad under him. Steve gets situated over him in order to give him a massage but it’s kinda awkward because he can’t put weight on his broken ankle.

Eddie looks at them in the camera and kinda has to laugh because, “We’re a mess.”

“We always have been,” Steve smiles, leaning down just enough to kiss the top of his head. He starts his massage, “Now, tell me a story.”

[italiansteebie]

As someone who is disabled, I am obsessed with the idea of Steve Harrington in a wheelchair or using mobility aids. Maybe hurt/comfort with Steve feeling stuck? like out in public people will treat him like a baby and dote on him like he cant do anything at all. Also established steddie?? ->

ignore me if u dont like this prompt hshs

excuse you, this was an amazing prompt and I love it.

and I am a sucker for projecting onto Steve, so lets go.

---

Steve was always in pain nowadays.

In fact, it only got worse after the bats, and he figures the exertion after the fact didn't help. Before, he could always push through, hobble along and ice his aching joints when he got home.

Though, he couldn't ignore it after his legs would only stay strong for about ask hour before they collapsed under him. He remembers the first day it happened. He'd been at the grocery store, picking up dinner for his date with Eddie. (It was fairly new, but it was strong). He'd felt a bit weak before leaving, but as always he pushed through, ignoring the dizziness and pain.

It had only gotten worse as he walked through the grocery store, and all of a sudden, he was on the ground, and the grocery store patrons were staring at him, whispering things about the Harrington name and image. The store manager ended up having to call Eddie to come help him.

"Oh, Stevie..." He sighed. He'd been bugging Steve about seeing a doctor for months in fact ever since he was healed himself, he'd been pestering Steve to go to Owens and explain to him what was going on. But he hadn't, and now here they were, Eddie helping Steve into a wheelchair in front of a crowd of Hawkins shoppers.

Steve had been covering his face, and Eddie could almost feel the shame he was experiencing. He wanted to tell their audience off, to go away, to mind their business. But he knew that would only make it worse. So he stayed quiet, and so did Steve.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

So they didn't.

And they didn't after Steve saw Owens.

And they didn't after Steve was fitted for a wheelchair.

They just... Didn't.

Until Steve had fallen again.

At Mike's house, with just the kids, who weren't strong enough to help him back into his chair, with no help from his wobbling legs. So they called Eddie, and hid in the basement after Steve had yelled at them to go away, hot tears of embarrassment rolling down his face.

--

They were home now, and again, Steve was quiet. Eddie helped him get situated on the couch, legs still too wobbly to do it unassisted.

"Steve... Lets talk about it,"

Steves head snapped up, eyes shining, "You wanna talk about it? Fine! I'm fucking useless, my legs don't work and I can't fucking do anything by myself anymore! The kids barely look at me, Robs hasn't been able to hang out in weeks, and the rest of Hawkins thinks I'm a fucking charity case! Every time I leave the house it's like I'm a fucking zoo animal. I wish this had never fucking happened! I wish I wasn't-"

"Don't say that, Steve."

"It's true isn't it? Don't you hate having to come help me? God... I just- I'm so..." The sobs crawl their way out of his throat, and he can't stop them once they start.

"Steve..." Eddie rubs a comforting hand up and down Steve's back, pulling him closer to cradle him in his arms. Steve tucked his head into Eddie's neck, letting the tears roll freely down his face. "Steve, you have every right to feel that way but... I hope you know it's not true. The kids... It's just a different dynamic and I'm not supposed to tell you this but Robin has been working on a design of the back of your wheelchair, she wanted it to be a surprise and she was worried she spoil it." He hears Steve sniffle a sort of laugh. "And baby, you cared for me every single day for months while I was healing, what makes you think I hate helping you? I'm so glad I can finally make it up to you."

Steve lifts his head, looking Eddie in the eyes, "Really?"

"Really, Stevie."

He watches Steve smile, for what seemed like the first time since coming home from that doctors appointment. "Also, with all the extra arm work, your biceps look," He pauses to do a chefs kiss, "Fantastico! That's how you guys say it in Italy, right?" He smirks, and Steve bursts into a fit of giggles, tears drying on his cheeks as he shakes his head. "I love you, Eds."

They lean in for a soft kiss, it's slow and sweet, "I love you too, Steve."

[funnylittlelad]

summary: “The Harrington Insurance Plan?” Eddie repeats.

“Yeah, he’s like that with all of us. If we’re sick or hurt or something, he always comes and checks on us. It's a thing. If any of us don't feel good, we call Steve before we call a doctor,” Dustin explains.

“Huh,” Eddie says thoughtfully, “Is that why he left me his number?”

“Yup, I told you- Insurance Plan. How are you feeling, by the way? You sound better.”

Eddie blinks at the wall ahead of him. He does feel better now that he’s eaten and the meds have started working. Both things that wouldn't have happened without Steve.

wc: tbd

tags/notes/warnings: plenty of fluff, angst, and hurt/comfort, Eddie has hEDS, Platonic stobin, a little jealous friend Robin, minor sexuality struggles, no UD, Steve plays D&D, generally just a self indulgent get together fic for my own hEDS ass, Dustin is there, bi steve, gay eddie, biphobia that gets resolved, "a friend of dorothy's" is basically code for being gay

steddie masterlist

part i / part ii (tbd)