#love me softly

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p10

part nine

Wayne is in the living room when Eddie comes home from Gareth’s, sipping a cup of coffee even though it’s almost four in the afternoon.

“Hey, Wayne.”

He waves the Tupperware that Linda gave him before he sets it on the counter, rubbing his cheek as Wayne watches him cross the room.

“How’s your boy?”

“Uh.” Eddie turns away, his cheeks flushing as he takes off his jacket. “He’s alright.”

“Ah-hah.”

Eddie turns, furrowing his brows.

“Ah-hah?” Wayne looks at him over his mug, raising his eyebrows and sipping the coffee noisily. “Ah-hah?” Eddie says again.

“Yesterday you said he wasn’t your boy,” Wayne says dryly. “Now you’re not arguing.”

Eddie makes a face, scrunching his nose.

“Alright, Detective Munson. Jesus.”

“So I’m right?” Wayne says gleefully, grinning, and Eddie rolls his eyes, his cheeks flushing again as he open the fridge.

“Yes,” he says. “You are.”

Wayne sighs contently, looking at the television. Some football game is on.

“I love being right.”

“Yeah, don’t get used to it, old man.”

“Already am.”

“Whatever.”

Wayne doesn’t interrogate him as much as he expects. They sit in front of the television and Eddie watches the game mindlessly, telling Wayne quietly about the way Steve sat too close to him on the sofa, the way he smiled at him and gazed at him, the way he pulled at Eddie’s chin to make him turn toward him so they could kiss.

“Sounds like a real romancer,” Wayne says, smiling softly at the tv.

“He is.” Eddie stares at the tv, biting his lip to suppress a smile as he thinks about the way Steve’s eyes shined at him when they said goodbye. “God, I really like him, Wayne.”

“You in love with this boy, Eddie?”

“Shit, I might be.” He rests his head on the back of the sofa. “That okay?”

“‘Course,” Wayne says quietly. “I’d have to be an asshole to tell you you can’t be in love.” He ruffles his hair again. “You can’t help that.”

“You ever been in love, Uncle Wayne?” Eddie asks quietly, leaning against his arm as Wayne sips his coffee.

“Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“What’s that mean?”

Wayne hums softly, and Eddie leans to rest his head on his shoulder. He hasn’t done this in a while, leaned against Wayne like he used to do when he was little, when he wanted to feel Wayne’s heartbeat while he fell asleep.

But Wayne doesn’t seem to mind it

“Never loved anyone the way you love your artist boy,” he says, his voice low and rumbly the way it’s always been. “But I’ve always loved you.“

Eddie blinks.

“Oh.”

He presses his face into Wayne’s arm.

“And I bet I’ll love that boy of yours when I get to meet him,” Wayne adds lightly. Eddie can hear his smile in his voice.

“I think you will,” Eddie says softly.

Steve is in the parking lot with his friends when Eddie gets to school the next day, sitting on the hood of his Beemer as he laughs at something Tommy is saying. Eddie pulls the van to a stop, suppressing a smile. Steve looks like he’s glowing.

Steve catches his eye as he’s headed inside, and Eddie raises his eyebrows at him, tilting his head. Steve just grins, shaking his head and looking away. Eddie’s cheeks flush.

He finds a drawing in his locker before fifth period. It looks like it was done with a marker, a messy and scribbly drawing of Eddie sitting on a table in the cafeteria on lined paper. There’s a tiny heart next to his head, and Eddie presses a hand to his cheek when he sees it, grinning and hiding his head in his locker as he blushes. After a moment he spots an arrow on the bottom of the page, and he flips it over.

kinda miss kissing you

s

Eddie grins so hard he can’t see, and he puts the drawing down, giggling quietly.

He kind of wants to pull Steve aside, to tug him into a bathroom or an empty classroom or a janitor’s closet, to kiss him so hard they both go blind for a few moments.

Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie when he catches him gazing at Steve across the cafeteria, and he smacks the back of his head when Eddie can’t tear his eyes away. Eddie smacks him back. Steve laughs, and then he laughs again when he passes by Eddie in the hallway, slipping a scrap of paper into Eddie’s hand.

Eddie goes to press his face to the wall for a little while.

“Bit risky,” he says when he meets Steve in the locker room after school, leaning against a locker and waving the note at him. “Don’t you think?”

Steve grins at him, sitting adorably on a bench, and Eddie gazes at him, smiling. He’s wearing his gym uniform.

“Maybe,” Steve says. “But I missed you.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush, and he sticks the note in his pocket.

“It’s been one day,” he says, as though he hasn’t been aching to touch him all day.

“God, tell me about it,” Steve says softly, looking up at him, wide-eyed and smiling as Eddie steps closer. It’s dim in the locker room, and a shadow falls over Steve’s face when Eddie gets close.

Steve looks up at him, tilting his head back, and Eddie leans over just slightly, enough that their noses nudge together and Steve’s eyes flutter shut. Eddie grins, gazing for a moment before he kisses him as softly as possible.

Steve exhales, reaching up to touch Eddie’s face, holding his chin softly.

“You’re sure no one else is here?” Eddie whispers, his lips brushing Steve’s, and Steve grins, standing up and grabbing Eddie’s waist. Eddie giggles as he stumbles backward, his back hitting the lockers as Steve steps close.

“I’m sure,” Steve murmurs. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Steve leans close, and Eddie closes his eyes, his head tilting back as he relaxes into Steve’s hands.

“God,” Steve whispers softly. “You’re so pretty.”

Eddie’s face flushes and he furrows his brows, sliding his hands up Steve’s arms, slipping his fingertips under the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“You gotta stop making me blush—”

Steve interrupts him with a kiss, crashing their mouths together, and Eddie gasps, his hands tightening. Steve tilts his head, pressing him into the lockers until they creak, one of his hands gripping Eddie’s waist tightly as the other lifts to touch his neck softly.

“Jesus,” Eddie exhales when they part, but Steve doesn’t say anything. He just leans back in and kisses him again, sucking on his lower lip in a way that makes Eddie’s knees feel weak, and Eddie is glad that Steve is holding his waist so tightly. He hums softly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck as Steve’s teeth dig into his lip.

When they part they’re both breathing hard, and Eddie’s lip is sore. And he’s smiling.

“You really missed me,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you, Harrington?”

“Little bit,” Steve whispers softly, his fingers touching Eddie’s cheek lightly like he’s fragile. “For you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie whispers. Their voices echo in the empty locker room, and his cheeks best again when Steve smiles at him softly. “Am I getting the whole King Steve treatment?”

Steve’s smile falls slightly, and his fingers brush over Eddie’s cheek.

“Almost,” he says softly.

“What’s missing?” Eddie asks, tracing a line between two moles on Steve’s neck. Steve exhales, tilting his head and closing his eyes.

“Would bring you flowers,” he says. “Give ‘em to you in the hallway. Kiss your cheeks. Show you off in front of everyone.”

“You wanna show me off?” Eddie whispers, his cheeks warm.

“Yeah. Kinda wanna show everyone you’re mine.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes.

Steve looks at Eddie, his eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie’s almost nervously, and Eddie leans close, kissing him softly before he wraps his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

“Can you be mine too?” he whispers, burying his face in Steve neck. There’s a quiet pause, and then Steve’s hands slide over Eddie’s waist hard, holding him tightly and pulling him away from the lockers. Eddie stumbles against him, his arms tightening.

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “I’d like that.”

Eddie’s chest aches. He pulls away to look at Steve, gazing at the way his eyes are closed peacefully, almost smiling.

“My boy,” Eddie murmurs, petting his cheek, and Steve looks like he melts, his tiny smile growing, his eyes softening. He tugs at the small of Eddie’s back, tilting his chin up to kiss him.

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this, Steve’s fingers steady against him, his lips soft and his mouth warm.

“You told your friend?” Steve asks when they part, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above Eddie’s waistband in a way that make him shiver.

“Mhmm.”

“What’d he say?”

Eddie tucks a lock of Steve’s hair back.

“He was worried for a moment you were using me.” Eddie smiles as Steve blinks, furrowing his eyebrows. “But I promised him you weren’t. And he was happy.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve says earnestly, his hands squeezing Eddie’s waist.

“I know,” Eddie says softly. “I told him.”

Steve blinks again, inhaling slowly, and Eddie glances at his mouth. His lip quivers.

“‘S okay,” Eddie reassured him gently, running his thumb over his lip.

“I really like you,” Steve says desperately. “So much.”

“I believe you,” Eddie whispers, his smile widening. His chest hurts. They’ve only been together one day, and he aches to say it. “…I really like you so much too.”

“That’s really cool,” Steve says softly.

“You wanna go out?” Eddie asks after kissing him again, playing with his hair.

“Where to?”

Eddie shrugs half-heartedly.

“Thought we could go do homework together or something,” he says.

“Or something,” Steve says slyly, grinning.

“Actually,” Eddie says, smacking Steve’s chest lightly. “I need to pass Brunson’s class or I’ll die, Stevie.”

“Drama queen,” Steve says, giggling as he kisses him. “Do you need help with it?”

“Are you good at chemistry?” Eddie asks, scrunching his nose. Steve quirks his eyebrows up, almost smiling, and Eddie gives him an immense eye roll before he pulls away only to he tugged back in by Steve, who presses playful kisses over his cheeks. “Alright, come on, you sweetheart.”

His face is hot again.

steve’s drawing & note

part eleven

read the whole thing on ao3

taglist: @00biscuit @mikeys-thoughts @thehumblefigtree @lizard-dyk3 @iamnotawoman-imagod

comment to be tagged in part 11 <3

[heart-select]

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips

[kittykalliarts]

For decades, the blank vision that Iudex Neuvillette wears near his heart has been subject to much discussion in Fontaine. Nobody remembers who it had once belonged to or why the ancient dragon protected it so jealously. It is said that if the Chief Justice would to stare at it for a long while, it would be sure to rain right after. Oh, how beloved that person must've been.

[willowser]

i think katsuki just answers his phone by barking out, "bakugou." no hello, probably doesn't even look at the caller id LOL when he hears it's you, though, i think he breathes out the tension he didn't realize was coiled in his shoulders, and says a lil, "hey," 🥺🥺

and i think when he calls you, and you answer with your sweet, "helloooo ??" he is so soft 😌 just mumbles out a quiet, "what'chu doin'?" and listens as you tell him, before saying what he needed to 😌

[kacievvbbbb]

Wasteland baby! is the most under appreciated of the Hozier albums and truly what an album to be released just before the pandemic what a song to release before the pandemic. During an uncertain time an album about not being alone in a wasteland the way most of the songs are about devotion, to the point of fault, to the point of personal harm, to the point of manipulation, about doing everything to be with this person even when it's detrimental to you both or even when it's a person you've made up in your head, in a year when we couldn’t go out and see each other. Hozier releases an album that puts the yearning for love in the loneliness of the pandemic into words a full year before the pandemic even happened and we don’t even really talk about it and that should be a crime.

True that love in withdrawal was the weepin' of me That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree

god imagine hearing that in a pandemic and not going insane.

in this essay, I will-

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

“I feel safe with Edvin.” - Omar

[nubelo]

Sasuke thinks about that kiss every fucking day I just know it.

[milktea-grn]

hair gel things

[cheekylittlepupp]

Come with me my love, and live your final night.

[shorthaltsjester]

there’s something that’s just :) to me about the fact that when vex is in danger and percy shouts after her in tlovm, he still uses vex’ahlia even though it’s almost always a situation in which choosing the shorter and thus faster and easier to yell version would make more sense (this happens on several occasions). the very base conception of vex in percy’s brain is vex’ahlia. besotted and utterly in love fool behaviour. he’s so real for that.

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p12

part eleven

tw: implied emotional/mental abuse; panic attack; brief mention of hospitalisation

Eddie shoves the worksheets into his backpack more carelessly than he should, stepping to the side with a little smile to let a girl pass in the hallway. She looks him up and down, her eyes scraping over his ripped jeans and oversized shirt before she looks away, ignoring him. His smile turns into a grimace.

The worksheets are practically burning in his bag. One is all marked up with his messy handwriting in smudged pencil and Mrs Miller’s trademark red pen, the other blank and waiting for him to fill in the correct answers. Miller says if he doesn’t turn it in with a sixty percent or higher he’ll fail, a statement that’s stuck in his head like a broken record.

Gareth is still at the picnic table outside the main building when Eddie finds him again, opening his mouth to tell him about the sixty percent, but Gareth’s expression makes him stop. He looks up at Eddie, wide-eyed, frowning.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks when he’s close enough.

“Uh, Steve came looking for you.”

Eddie’s stomach drops a little bit, and he freezes.

“Is something wrong?”

“He didn’t say,” Gareth says, setting his book down. “Just asked where you were and if you could meet him in the bathroom. He said you’d know which one.” He pauses, fiddling with the corner of a page. “He looked like he’d been crying.”

“Fuck, okay.” Eddie starts toward the entrance of the school. “You’re the best, love you.”

“Love you too,” Gareth says with an amused smile, but his eyes are still shining with concern.

Eddie runs to find the bathroom faster than he runs in gym class. It’s on the second floor, toward the back of the building. There’s only one classroom in that hallway that’s actually in use (home ec class), and every time Eddie steps into the dim hallway he thinks it looks abandoned. The bathroom is where he keeps a stash of cigarettes behind a loose tile.

Steve is leaning against a the wall across from the door when Eddie comes in, and Eddie’s heart aches even as Steve smiles at him.

His cheeks and nose are rosy, his eyes shining like they’re still tear-filled, and he looks so small it makes Eddie’s chest hurt.

“Hey,” Eddie says, shutting the door behind himself. “Got your message.”

Steve tilts his head, smiling softly.

“Gareth’s nice.”

“‘S my best friend,” Eddie says as he gets closer. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly.

Steve looks at the floor, his smile falling. He shrugs weakly. Eddie wants to kiss him.

He takes off his bag, setting it next to Steve’s on the ground as he gazes at him.

They haven’t kissed in school since that day in the locker room, only at Steve’s house and in the van, even though Eddie wants to every time he sees him in the hallway, every time he finds a drawing in his locker.

“Stevie,” Eddie prompts, whispering.

Steve takes a breath, looking up at him, anguish in his eyes.

“My parents came home last night.”

Eddie blinks, his heart breaking a little bit.

“Are you okay?”

Steve shrugs again, his mouth twisting.

“Just feel like shit,” he says quietly. “Kinda just wanted a kiss.”

Eddie exhales, his eyes flicking back and forth between Steve’s for a moment before he reaches out and pulls at his shirt, tugging him into the closest stall before he turns to grab their backpacks.

Eddie pushes Steve against the wall before he locks the stall door.

“Hi,” he murmurs, getting close and touching Steve’s waist.

“Hi,” Steve says weakly, his eyes fluttering like he’s going to cry.

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, reaching up to touch his face and leaning in. He kisses him slowly, sighing when Steve’s hands find his waist and hold him tightly. Eddie pushes his fingers until Steve’s hair and tugs gently, nibbling on his lip carefully. Eddie pulls away, opening his eyes to look at Steve. His eyes are still closed, his lips parted, almost blissful.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie breathes, watching Steve’s cheeks flush before he leans in and kisses him again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, holding him tightly as his tongue slips across Eddie’s lip. Eddie can feel his hands shaking against him.

“You okay?” Eddie asks when they part, tugging Steve’s hair gently. Steve exhales, resting his forehead on Eddie’s.

“Better.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, pressing his hands into the small of Eddie’s back.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve presses his lips together and lifts his head, looking back and forth between Eddie’s eyes.

“They’re so mean,” he says after taking a sharp breath. His lip trembles, and before Eddie can even say anything, there are tears welling in his eyes and falling down his cheeks, and Eddie’s whole body aches.

“Baby,” he breathes, pulling Steve into a tight hug. “I got you, come here.”

A deep sob wracks Steve’s body, and Eddie buries his face in his neck, whispering to him. He can feel Steve’s tears on his neck, sliding under his shirt, but he doesn’t care.

When Steve’s crying slows after a minute, Eddie pulls away and wipes away his tears, pressing kisses across his face.

“Don’t listen to them,” he whispers. “Okay? Nothing they say is true.”

Steve’s eyes open and look at him, so full of doubt that Eddie can feel his heart splitting in two.

“What are they saying ‘bout you, Stevie?” he asks, dreading the answer, but Steve just shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His lip quivers again, a tear rolls down his cheek. Eddie wipes it away, his own eyes burning. “‘S okay, sweetheart.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. “Can I have a hug?”

Eddie wordlessly pulls him in close, pressing his lips to his neck, and Steve’s arms tighten around his waist as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“‘S okay,” Eddie says again. “I love you, baby.”

It takes a moment for him to realise that he’s said it, and his eyes fly open as he freezes. Steve doesn’t say anything, but Eddie can feel him freeze too.

There are a few silent moment as they just hold each other, and Eddie can feel his heart pounding in his chest until Steve lets out a quiet laugh, huffing into Eddie’s neck.

“Did you just tell me you love me for the first time in a school bathroom?”

“…No?”

Steve laughs again, one of his hands running up Eddie’s spine.

“Do you really?” he murmurs after another moment, his voice hesitant. Eddie closes his eyes again, nuzzling into his neck.

“Yeah. I do.”

Steve presses his face against Eddie, his fingers digging into his back like he’s trying to rip into his jacket. Eddie tightens his own arms around him.

Steve is crying again. Eddie runs a hand over the top of his head gently, combing through his hair. And he waits.

Until Steve is choking out a quiet but firm, “I love you too.”

“Oh,” Eddie says weakly. “Shit.”

They stay in the bathroom until the bell rings. Before Steve can open the door to leave, Eddie catches his shirt and pulls him close again.

“I meant it,” he says softly. “Nothing they say is true.”

Steve’s face softens and Eddie reaches up to hold his chin.

“I’m serious, Stevie,” he says gently. “I don’t know what they’re saying— and you don’t have to tell me, it’s okay,” he adds when Steve’s expression shifts. “But whatever they’re saying. It’s not true.”

Steve sighs, touching Eddie’s wrist and closing his eyes for a moment. Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s lips.

“And if you ever need me to remind you about how amazing you are, I will, gladly.”

Steve smiles and tugs at his wrist to press a kiss to his palm.

Gareth checks with Eddie that Steve’s okay when Eddie’s gets to class. Eddie’s heart swells.

He catches glimpses of Steve around school all day, in the hallways, in the cafeteria. He always looks sort of the same, forlorn and tired and small, and Eddie wants more than anything to pull him aside and hold him and kiss his neck until he falls asleep.

Eddie finds a drawing in his locker before he heads to his last class. It’s scribbly and messy, the pencil lines heavy and dark, and Eddie can tell just from gazing at it that it was a spur-of-the-moment, frantic drawing. Some of the lines are shaky like his hand was trembling when he did it.

Eddie puts it in his backpack more carefully than he’s ever done before, making sure not to fold or crease or bend it. He’ll put it on his wall when he gets home.

Somehow the last class is the most taxing. The teacher seems to target him the whole time, and has all year, always asking questions he knows Eddie doesn’t know the answers to and subtly making fun of him. It drives Eddie up the wall. He wants a cigarette.

So when the bell rings and he can escape, he heads up to the second floor, headed toward the abandoned bathroom for his cigarette stash.

He pauses in the doorway at the sound of a voice through the door, listening in confusion. It’s usually eerily silent around here, so quiet that any noise echoes and bounces off the tile.

It’s Tommy Hagen’s voice. Eddie blinks, furrowing his brows and listening intently, but his voice is muffled by the door, and Eddie can’t understand him. He pushes the door open quietly, looking inside to see Tommy on the floor, looking at someone that’s blocked by his two cronies. Eddie doesn’t know their names.

“Hey,” Eddie says sharply. Tommy looks up at him, but huffs.

“Fuck off, man, not right now.”

Eddie blinks, watching Tommy turn back away from him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, moving to look around the cronies, expecting to see some poor freshman on the ground, but he stops in his tracks, his stomach dripping when he sees Steve. “What…”

“I said fuck off,” Tommy says aggressively, but Eddie doesn’t move, staring.

Steve is curled into a ball against the wall he was leaning against this morning, his face hidden in his knees, and he has a hand in his own hair, gripping so tightly his knuckles are white. It’s only now that Eddie realises that Steve’s breaths are echoing in the room, too fast, too short and sharp.

Shit.

Tommy ignores Eddie, trying to pry Steve’s hand out of his hair.

“Come on, man,” he says. “Snap out of it, you’re— you’re fine.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Eddie says weakly, blinking his eyes when they burn because his boy is on the floor right now, having what looks like a panic attack, and he wants to kiss him better.

Tommy looks up at him.

“The fuck do you mean?” he says angrily. Eddie blinks again, swallowing.

“You’re— You’re hurting him, stop pulling his hand.”

“He’s hurting himself,” Tommy says. “I’m trying to stop him.”

“Yeah, I— I know, just— You gotta be gentle.”

“Fuck off, Munson—“

“I’m serious,” Eddie snaps. “You’re making it worse, cut it out.”

“Munson—”

“Let. Go.”

Tommy lets go of Steve’s wrist like he’s startled, and Eddie takes a breath, pausing before he drops his bag to the ground and pushes between the cronies, ignoring their protests. Tommy tries to stop him.

“Let me help,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna— I’m not gonna try anything, I just—” He stares at Tommy desperately. “Let me help him.”

Tommy stares back.

“…Fine.”

“Tommy, seriously?” one of the boys asks behind Eddie.

“If he does anything, I’ll deal with it,” Tommy says firmly, turning to look up at him.

Eddie ignores them. He moves closer to Steve.

“Steve, it’s me,” he whispers softly, watching Steve’s shoulders rise and fall with every rapid breath. “Eddie,” he adds, knowing the others are listening. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, his hand still gripping his hair tightly.

“Give me a nod,” Eddie whispers, his chest hurting. “Or shake your head for me.”

Steve’s breaths are starting to blend with whimpers, as Eddie can tell that his throat is dry, that he’s crying. And then he nods weakly.

Eddie moves to sit next to his legs, reaching up and sliding a hand over Steve’s arm as gently as he can.

“I got you,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “‘M right here.”

He aches to say things he can’t say in front of Steve’s friends. To call Steve honey and sweetheart. He wants to press kisses to the side of Steve‘s head and to his shoulder.

Eddie’s hand creeps over Steve’s arm slowly, rubbing and squeezing until he reaches Steve’s hand that’s in his hair.

“Need you to let go, Steve,” he says, carefully avoiding saying Stevie. He rubs the back of his hand gently, touching his fingers. “Relax your hand.” Honey.

Steve whines, his hand tightening in his hair, and Eddie’s whole body hurts.

“Steve.” Sweetheart. “You’re okay.” He carefully presses his fingertips under Steve’s fingers, nudging them. “Let go, you can hold my hand, tight as you need to.”

The room is silent except for Steve’s stuttering breaths, and after a tight moment, Steve’s hand jumps from his hair to Eddie’s fingers, gripping them tightly. He’s shaking.

“There you go,” Eddie says gently.

He hears a quiet “What the fuck?” behind himself, and he turns slightly.

“Hagen, can you get them out of here?” he asks, but it’s more of a demand. “Like now?”

“I don’t…”

Eddie turns and looks over his shoulder, glaring at him. He’s sitting against a column between stalls, and when their eyes meet he moves to stand.

“Yeah, come on, guys.”

“Are you serious?” one of them asks, sounding like he’s going to laugh. “You want us to leave?”

“Just— Come on, Drew,” Tommy says, and Eddie hears him pushing the boys, but he doesn’t turn, running his thumb over Steve fingers. “He needs space.”

“So you’re leaving him with the freak?” the other one says.

Steve whimpers. His hand tightens on Eddie’s fingers.

“‘S okay,” Eddie murmurs as softly as he can. “‘S mine, Steve.”

He stops listening to the guys bickers behind him, squeezing Steve’s hand.

“Take a deep breath for me.” Honey. “Nice and slow.”

Steve tries, his breath stuttering, his shoulders shaking.

“You got it,” Eddie murmurs. “Breathe in. …All the way, ‘s okay. And out.”

Steve is trying. He’s trying so hard.

Eddie wants to cry.

“I know,” he says softly. “You’re okay, Steve, I’m right here.”

Steve squeezes his hand.

“Inhale when I squeeze,” Eddie says softly, moving to sit in front of him, a leg bent up around Steve. “Exhale when I let go. Okay?”

He waits for a moment, then shifts his hand to grip Steve’s, and he squeezes tightly, listening as Steve takes a staggered, broken inhale, and then he relaxes his hand, and Steve exhales forcefully.

“There you go,” Eddie says. “Good job.” Baby.

“What the fuck?” one of the boys under his breath, and Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand again, turning to glare at them over his shoulder.

“Get out.”

Tommy shoves at one of the boys’ shoulders, tugging at them and pulling them out the door.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs softly when the door shuts behind them, relaxing his hand and listening to Steve exhale. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he breathes.

“Eddie,” Steve chokes. His voice breaks.

“I know,” Eddie says, squeezing. “Just breathe, honey, I’m right here. You’re okay.”

He breathes.

Eddie can hear the boys bickering outside, their voices muffled bough that Eddie can’t quite make out the angry remarks they’re making. Eddie leans in and kisses the top of Steve’s head.

“Look up for me,” he murmurs when Steve’s breathing is slower after a moment. He’s still breathing too fast, too heavily. “Lift your head, honey.”

Steve looks up. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, and his nose and eyes are red, his lips dry and chapped, parted as he breathes. Eddie nods, lifting a hand to hold his chin.

“You’re okay,” he says. “Say it for me, Stevie, you’re okay.”

Steve’s eyes flutter for a moment and another tear falls down his cheek.

“‘M ‘kay,” he mumbles weakly, and Eddie smiles, nodding again.

“Yeah, you are,” Eddie whispers.

“Eddie,” Steve chokes desperately.

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie says, moving closer. “You’re okay, ‘m not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?”

He inhales deeply, taking an exaggerated breath so Steve copies him.

“Blow my hair out of my face,” he says, caressing Steve’s chin as he exhales hard.

Tommy raises his voice outside.

Steve glances past Eddie at the door, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Ignore them,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes, blinking his eyes hard. Another tear falls.

“Tonight,” Eddie murmurs, brushing his thumb over Steve’s chin. “You can come by mine. Stay for the weekend.”

Steve’s lip trembles, and he takes another shaky breath.

“Wayne won’t mind?” he asks breathlessly.

Eddie shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly. “Wayne won’t mind at all. He’ll probably make you tea ‘nd shit.”

“Okay,” Steve says weakly.

“Deep breath.”

Eddie nods when Steve takes a deep breath, shifting his hand, but Steve’s hand tightens on it, gripping two of his fingers tightly. Eddie looks at their hands and smiles softly.

It’s the same way he held his hand at Munchy’s party, when he whispered that he’s always hiding.

You don’t have to hide from me, Eddie had said.

I know.

And now Eddie gets to kiss him. So he does. Softly, chastely.

“You’re okay.”

Steve just nods, exhaling and closing his eyes. He breathes slowly, his chest rising and falling steadily as he squeezes Eddie’s fingers. Eddie brushes his thumb over his skin softly. Steve’s eyes open when the door opens, and Eddie looks behind himself to find Tommy coming in quietly, shutting the door behind himself.

Eddie starts to pull his hand away, but Steve clutches at his fingers, shaking his head as Tommy sits on the floor. Eddie runs his thumb back and forth over his skin.

“You okay, man?” Tommy asks softly. Steve nods, staring at the ground. “What happened?”

Steve shakes his head, his lip trembling, his eyes welling with tears.

“I don’t know,” he chokes. A tear escapes down his cheek, and Eddie wipes it away without thinking. Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and Eddie’s body aches with the desire to kiss him again.

“You’re okay,” Eddie murmurs softly, squeezing Steve’s hand gently. Steve nods and lowers his head to his knees, hiding his face and holding Eddie’s hand to his chest. Tommy looks at Eddie, some odd combination of curiosity and worry shining in his eyes, and Eddie just nods slightly.

“Hagen, can you get my bag?” Eddie asks quietly. “I have a bottle of water in there.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Eddie leans forward and squeezes Steve’s arm while Tommy is getting his bag and rummaging through it for Eddie’s water bottle.

Tommy runs his hand over Steve’s back gently while Steve sips at the water. Steve doesn’t let go of Eddie’s fingers, still holding them tightly even as he drinks the water, his hands still trembling.

And Eddie is reminded of that day in detention with Steve, the soft, kind silence between them. Except that now Tommy Hagen here too, rubbing Steve’s back, his eyes lingering on Steve and Eddie’s linked hands, but he doesn’t say anything. And somehow Eddie doesn’t really worry. Because Tommy’s eyes move on from their hands to Steve’s face, to his tear-streaked cheeks, and he looks so worried and heartbroken that Eddie softens a little bit.

Because even though Tommy Hagen is a dick, Eddie can tell just by looking at him that he loves Steve.

“Where are Drew and Davy?” Steve asks after finishing the water, holding the empty bottle. His voice is rough and tired. Eddie squeezes his hand.

“They went to the cafeteria to wait,” Tommy says softly.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, nodding. He sighs slowly, squeezing Eddie’s fingers.

“Ready?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

Eddie helps him stand, holding his hand tightly, and when he’s standing, he leans against the wall, blinking hard.

“Okay?” Eddie says. Tommy’s hands are out like he’s ready to catch Steve if he falls. Steve blinks again, nodding.

“Yeah, just… Got kinda lightheaded.”

Eddie squeeze his hand before they release each other as Steve stands up straight, nodding again.

“Eat something when you get home,” Eddie says gently. “Have some tea or something.”

Steve’s lips twitch into a small smile and he nods. He thanks Eddie in the hallway quietly, staring at him intently, and Eddie feels like he’s kissing him. His eyes are shining the same way they did at the party as he sat on the floor, reflecting all the quiet self-loathing and sadness that he doesn’t say out loud. Withdrawn. Hiding.

Eddie goes out to his van, carrying the empty water bottle. His eyes are burning the whole time, as he heads down the stairs and out the loud front door, wishing he could go back and take Steve home with him. Hoping that Drew and Davy aren’t assholes to Steve but somehow trusting that Tommy wouldn’t let them.

He’s approaching his van when he hears his name behind him, and he turns to find Tommy jogging after him across the empty parking lot. Eddie huffs, turning back toward his van.

“Fuck off, man,” he says when Tommy gets closer, reaching for the handle of the door.

“No, I’m not— I’m not trying to start shit, I just… I just wanna talk.”

Eddie sighs heavily, turning and leaning against his van, glancing past Tommy.

“Where’s Harrington?”

“He’s with the guys,” Tommy says. “He’s okay, he— he said I could go.”

“What do you want?”

Tommy hesitates, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Eddie’s never seen his face look like this. Uncomfortable, nervous. Not sneering or grimacing or laughing.

“Why’d you help him?” he asks.

Eddie stomach knots. He takes a breath, pressing his lips together.

“He had a panic attack. I know what they’re like, I would’ve helped any of you,” he says honestly.

Tommy hesitates again, nodding and looking away.

“How’d you know what to do?” he asks quietly.

Eddie looks at the ground, biting his lip.

“…I had my first one when I was a kid,” he says finally. “I just… did what would help me. And saw if it helped him, and it did, so.”

Tommy stares at him for a moment, his eyes wide and shining, and Eddie raises his eyebrows before he stands up straight to turn away.

“What do I do?” Tommy bursts.

Eddie looks at him again.

“What?”

Tommy takes a breath, swallowing. His lip quivers for a moment.

“Steve and I… aren’t really as close we used to be, and I don’t know why, but…”

“Have you considered the fact that you’re an asshole?” Eddie says dryly when Tommy pauses. Tommy stares at him blankly.

“He’s still my best friend,” he says quietly. “If that happens again, if he has another… panic attack. What do I do?”

Eddie stares at him, looking at the desperation in his eyes, and he softens again, leaning against the van, twisting the empty bottle in his hand.

“Panic attacks… My first one was because I… thought I had to go somewhere that— that almost… killed me,” he says quietly, staring at the ground of the driveway as he remembers it. Wayne standing by his hospital bed, telling him that he’ll take him home, and the way it felt like the world was ending. He’d thought Wayne meant home to his father, and it was only after a kind nurse managed to calm him down that he found out Wayne meant home.

“Steve’s…” Eddie continues. “I don’t know what happened, and he might not either, really, but whatever it was, even if it was just…” He pauses, shaking his head. “Something like… subconscious or whatever. It feels like… the end. Everything kind of zeroes in on it, and it just takes over.” He looks up at Tommy, who’s listening intently. “He’s not… thinking. There’s no logic, or— or rationalising. Saying stuff like snap out of it or calm down doesn’t mean shit because he can’t.”

Tommy nods, his lips pursing.

“He’s… freaking out,” Eddie continues. “He’s scared, and panicking, so he can’t breathe, which freaks him out more because it— it feels like he’s dying. And he isn’t getting enough air, so he can’t think, so you— you need to get him to breathe.”

“Okay.”

“He might not… want to be touched,” Eddie adds, squeezing the bottle so the plastic crinkles. “‘S why I asked. If he’s too… overwhelmed, it could make it worse. So… Yes or no questions. Is it okay if I touch you, do you wanna hold my hand. Et cetera.”

“Okay,” Tommy says again, softly. Eddie squeezes the bottle again.

“He needed…” He hesitates, watching the plastic move. “He needed to hold something. ‘S why he was pulling his hair so hard, so I offered my hand.” Tommy is nodding like Eddie doesn’t need to explain it, so he stops.

“It might take a while,” Eddie adds, looking at him. “For him to calm down. To— To breathe normally. So just… stay calm. Don’t stress him out more. I made your friends leave because Steve knew they were there, just… watching him.”

“Right,” Tommy says, blinking and looking at the ground like it’s starting to make sense to him. Eddie looks at him, watching the gears turn in his head until Tommy looking back up at him. “Anything else?”

Eddie pauses, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say, remembering Steve’s sad eyes in the hallway, the way he looked at the ground as he walked away.

“Tell him you love him.”

Tommy blinks.

“I don’t—“ Eddie speaks before Tommy can say anything. “I don’t care if you think it’s queer or whatever, it’s…” He takes a deep breath, sighing. “That was scary for him. I mean— like, terrifying. And he’s tired, and frustrated, and confused and probably really fucking embarrassed. Just…” Eddie looks at Tommy intently. “He hates himself right now. Just make sure he knows that you don’t.”

Tommy is silent for a moment before he nods.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

Eddie stares back at him, taking a breath, twisting the bottle.

“Thank you,” Tommy says. It sounds forced out, the words too sharp, but his eyes are so earnest that Eddie nods.

“You’re a really shitty guy,” Eddie says after a moment, watching Tommy blink. “But you’re not a terrible friend.”

Tommy scoffs.

“Thanks, man.”

Eddie jerks his chin up toward the school.

“Get outta here,” he says lightly, turning and opening the door of his van.

“Thank you, Eddie,” Tommy says, stepping backward. Eddie’s name stops him short, and he looks at him. His eyebrows are raised slightly, his face firm, earnest. “Seriously.”

Eddie nods, pausing one last time.

“If it happens again,” he says, stepping into the van and standing there, looking at Tommy over the door. “And if you need help. Just… find me.”

Tommy nods.

Eddie goes home.

He heads straight to his room to carefully pin Steve’s drawing to his wall with a blue thumbtack. It goes under a sketch of Eddie’s side profile that he got a little while ago. He looks at the drawings as he changes into some sweatpants and a hoodie, and then he goes to look through the cupboard for tea.

He’s in the middle of doing the dishes when he finally hears a car pull up in front of the trailer, and he exhales, shutting off the water and rushing to snatch a towel to dry his hands as he peeks through the blinds to see Steve’s Beemer.

Steve gets out of the car with a backpack over his shoulder, and Eddie gazes, watching before he goes to open the door as Steve is approaching it.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly when Steve looks up at him. Steve exhales when their eyes meet, his chest shifting, and Eddie aches.

“Hi,” he says, pausing at the bottom of the stars. The sun is setting, and his hair looks golden, lighting him up from behind. Eddie thinks briefly that he looks like an angel.

Eddie beckons with a tilt of his head, and Steve comes up the steps. He sets his bag on the ground by the door, and he’s pulling Eddie into his arms before the door is even shut all the way shut.

part 13

read the whole thing on ao3

tagging @thehumblefigtree @sideblogofthcentury @221b1tch <3

comment to be tagged in part thirteen :)

[wildsaltair]

Security

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (fluff, with a tiny hint of hurt/comfort)

Word Count: 1.2k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: Very short little fic that I wrote sort of as a follow-up to Nightmare, but it works as a standalone one-shot too. As always, it's written with the fullest measure of my love, and it's representing all the longing y'all get to witness every day on this melodramatic blog. I love Maximus, and I hope this little fic does him justice :) Thank you for reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Your love is asleep beside you, breathing deep and slow against your neck. After yet another day of backbreaking work in the harvest, he’s exhausted, and all he had the strength to do was pull off his tunic and fall into bed beside you.

You are just as tired, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep just yet. You’re too transfixed by him.

In sleep, his face is so peaceful, so free from the worry lines and the intensity he wears through the day. In sleep, his face is relaxed and soft, surrendered to the safety he feels in your bed.

You smile knowing that sharing your bed is his first experience with sleeping so peacefully. He came to you wounded and hunted, having barely escaped an assassination attempt and with nowhere else to go. Though your first few months were fraught with distress and fear, you have both settled into your home with the knowledge that you are safe from the outside world, that his past has been laid to rest and left behind. He still carries his burdens, but they are easier to bear when he can release them at night.

You let your eyes trace over his features now, amazed as always at the sweetness and beauty of the man who holds your heart. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks, the lines beside his eyes less furrowed.

He’s sleeping as he usually does: on his back with your head on his chest, his left arm wrapped around your shoulders protectively, his head tilted against yours. His right hand clasps yours where it rests on his waist, moving gently every time he breathes.

Tilting your head back, you smile to yourself as the sounds of his deep breathing reach your ears. The sound only reassures you that he’s sleeping well, undisturbed by anything.

You often remember his first few nights with you — how after making love, he would lie awake for some time, trying to fall asleep. He was always on guard during those days, always attuned to any sign of trouble. He slept with one eye open for months.

And quite often, you would wake to find him up, making a round through the house or in the yard, paranoid about what could be lurking outside. Many were the nights you had to coax him back to bed, assuring him that no one had come for him in the night.

And the nightmares. Those terrible nightmares that plagued him for months.

Once, he awoke in the middle of choking you, having acted out of terror in the middle of a dream. You were afraid he would never trust himself to sleep with you again, but together you worked through it. He’s had nightmares many times since, but they have grown fewer and tamer in the past few months.

That thought makes you smile as well: knowing that your presence beside him at night helps keep his nightmares at bay.

As if in response, the man turns in his sleep, rolling onto his side to face you. He’s still sound asleep, his breath rumbling in his powerful chest, but his right arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to his body.

You are all too happy to snuggle closer to him. The nights have grown colder, and his body is a never-ending source of heat for your bed. You enthusiastically burrow into his embrace, tucking your head under his chin and tangling your legs with his.

Your heart warms knowing that he reaches for you even in his sleep. Many are the nights he has whispered your name in his sleep, groped his hands to find you in the night. Somehow his heart seeks you even when he sleeps.

He pulls you even closer, his breath softening as if he is stirring a little from his sleep, but he does not awaken. Shifting his weight to press against you more fully, he rubs one broad hand up and down your back, fingers brushing your spine.

Without meaning to, you arch your back in response, pushing your body tighter against his. He lowers his chin as though he were awake, dragging his lips across your forehead before coming to rest against the top of your head.

Your smile comes again, unbidden, warm as the heat radiating off his body.

So many nights, you have lain in this very bed and ached with loneliness. How many cold nights you spent huddled under blankets, wishing for a lover to share your home and bed, to fill you with a warmth that would go beyond your body. This man fills every empty spot in your heart, thrills and soothes and pleasures you in every possible way.

And what a joy it is to know that you have done the same for him, that your love is his safety, his delight, and his peace.

With a knot of emotion rising in your throat, you tilt your head back to press the lightest of kisses against his exposed neck. He stirs slightly, his breath ghosting across your ear, and you just rest your lips against his neck to breathe in his scent.

Earth, sweat, and something else distinctly him. It’s a scent you now associate with comfort, companionship, and warmth.

You kiss him again, wanting to touch him somehow even though he’s asleep. His neck is smooth and warm under your lips, and he stirs again, this time shifting his arms closer around you. He tilts his head a bit to the side as if to give you better access.

Then he makes a sound, almost a moan, almost a sleep-muddled whisper, but you know it’s your name. It’s your name he murmurs in his sleep, when he feels your gentle brushes of affection against his skin.

You smile against his neck, resting your mouth there so he won’t awaken. He remains tensed a moment longer, so you lightly run your hands over him to soothe him back to a deep sleep.

His muscles are coiled under your touch, every inch of his body a tribute to softness and strength. His chest moves against yours slowly, and you gently rub your hands over his ribs, his sides, his hips. He finally relaxes, sighing contentedly as he drifts back into a deeper sleep.

Just before he does, though, you feel him lift his hand, stroke it down the back of your head once. His fingers tangle in your hair, and he nuzzles your face gently, brushing his smooth skin and spiky beard against your cheek.

He hums with pleasure, settles himself against your body, then buries his head in your neck and falls back to sleep.

You follow him soon after, cradling him in your arms while you listen to the steady cadence of his breath and the lovely thump of his heartbeat. You thread your fingers in his dark hair until your strength fades into sleep, just long enough to feel him relax completely in your arms.

All the lonely nights, all the sorrow, all the uncertainty — it’s all been worth it for this moment, and for all the moments that have come before and will come after.

Your love is asleep in your arms, whispering your name and holding you close to his chest, and you can both sleep in the peace and satisfaction of a love that transcends everything else.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

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