#love me softly

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p19

part 18

Eddie’s alarm clock wakes them up.

Steve startles, still laying on top of Eddie, and then he groans into Eddie’s neck, nuzzling closer as Eddie smacks the alarm clock off.

Eddie sighs, wrapping his arms around him and turning his face into Steve’s hair.

“You have an awful clock,” Steve mumbles, his voice low and rumbly. Eddie laughs quietly, running his hand up Steve’s bare back. His skin is warm.

“Sorry.”

Steve sighs, his breath hot on Eddie’s neck, and Eddie drags his fingertips over his spine. After a quiet moment Steve groans softly, pressing his face into Eddie.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he grumbles. “I told Wayne we’d get to school on time.”

“You don’t wanna skip with me?” Eddie asks as Steve sits up, following him up, propping himself up with his hands behind him. Steve sits next to him, smiling sleepily, his hands in his lap. Eddie squints at him, his eyes skimming over him, over his sleep-tousled hair and pink cheeks, lingering on the soft rolls of his stomach. Eddie wants to bite him.

“Maybe if Wayne didn’t say anything about us getting to school on time,” Steve says, smiling.

Eddie looks at the ceiling, sighing heavily.

“Dammit, Wayne.”

Steve laughs softly, and then he leans forward and touches Eddie’s chin, kissing him softly.

“Good morning, Eddie baby,” he says quietly.

“Good morning,” Eddie murmurs, his cheeks flushing. Steve smiles and kisses him again.

“Wayne’s in the living room,” Eddie says as he’s stretching. “I’ll go find you a toothbrush and whatnot.”

“Thank you,” Steve says softly, following him up and stretching, arching his back and groaning quietly. “I’ll get dressed.”

Eddie hums.

“Unfortunate.”

He steps up behind Steve as he’s looking for his shirt that he tossed away last night, sliding his hands across his waist and squeezing and kneading at his belly and hips. He’s so soft. Eddie rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, groaning quietly.

Steve sighs when Eddie’s chest presses to his back, his head falling back. He hums when Eddie squeezes his belly again.

“Don’t distract me,” he says after a moment, and Eddie can hear his smile in his voice.

Eddie kisses the side of his neck.

“M’kay.”

He finds a spare toothbrush under the sink. Brings it to Steve as Steve is pulling his jeans on. His shirt is wrinkled, the collar uneven. Eddie hands the toothbrush to him and fixes his collar wordlessly before he kisses his forehead.

“‘M gonna make breakfast,” he says as he finishes dressing.

“‘M gonna brush my teeth,” Steve says. He’s leaning against the wall, watching Eddie button his jeans. Eddie blushes, smoothing his shirt and finding his rings on the bedside table. Steve gazes as he puts them on. “You’re really hot, you know that?”

Eddie’s face flushes with even more heat, and he looks at the floor, grinning.

“Don’t distract me,” he says, tugging Steve into a chaste kiss before he goes to the kitchen.

He hears Steve laugh behind him.

He’s smiling as he makes their breakfasts (toasted bagels with eggs and cheese and probably too much salt and pepper), listening to Wayne snoring and the bathroom sink running, happy.

He’s finishing Steve’s sandwich when he feels him approach from behind him, and his smile grows when Steve’s hands push under the hem of his t-shirt, sliding over his stomach and pressing to hold him close.

Steve hums, nuzzling into his neck.

“‘S nice,” he murmurs.

“What’s nice?”

“This.”

“You want me to be your little house-husband, sweetheart?”

“Hm. I wouldn’t mind.”

Eddie laughs softly, tilting his head as Steve kisses the side of his neck.

“I’m gonna go. Meet Tommy before school starts.”

“Lemme wrap this up for you,” Eddie says, and Steve doesn’t detach from him as as he carefully rips some tin foil from the roll as quietly as he can. Steve’s fingers brush over Eddie’s skin as he wraps it, almost tickling.

“Is it weird that I like listening to Wayne snore?” Steve asks, watching over his shoulder. Eddie grins.

“Nah, I like it too.” His tongue pokes out for a moment as he focuses, trying not to like the foil rip. “Used to sleep with him when I moved in ‘cause I couldn’t be by myself,” he says. “Used to listen to him snore when I couldn’t sleep. It helped.”

“‘S really sweet,” Steve says quietly. Eddie smiles, finally finishing, and he holds the sandwich up. Steve reaches to take it, tilting his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, hon—“

He cuts off when he turns to look at him, his eyes lowering go look over Steve.

He’s wearing that one sweatshirt from Eddie’s closet, the black, bleach-stained one. Eddie can see the collar of his polo under the neckline of it, and his cheeks flush.

“…Ney,” he finishes. Steve smiles. “You’re gonna wear it to school?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking down at it, smoothing down the front. “Why not?”

“I…” Eddie gazes at him, shrugging weakly and shaking his head. He’s right, Eddie thinks. There’s nothing on the sweatshirt that would point to Eddie. No metal band name across the chest, no chains or leather. “Because I’m not gonna wanna keep my hands off you.”

Steve beams, stepping forward and touching his chin.

“Practice self-restraint,” he says lightly, leaning in and kissing him gently. “And it’ll be worth it.”

Eddie’s cheeks light up.

“Oh, is that so?” he whispers. Steve hums, tracing his jaw.

“I’ll let you take it off of me,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie’s eyes widen and he inhales slowly.

“Okay,” Eddie says weakly before he leans in and kisses him hard, reaching to hold his face. He can feel Steve’s smile against his mouth, and after a second, Steve’s fingers push into his hair and tug gently. “Okay,” Eddie breathes when they part.

“I’ll see you later,” Steve says, smiling, tilting his head. Eddie blushes again (he has a serious problem), and he avoids Steve’s eyes, reaching to fix his collar so it’s over the neckline of the sweatshirt, neat and preppy and cuter than it should be.

“See you later,” he murmurs.

Steve kisses his forehead.

“Love you,” he says, stepping back, and their hands drop. He grabs his bag from the laundry machine where he’d placed it. “Don’t forget your homework for Murphy.”

“Fuck, thank you,” Eddie says, quickly moving to find it on the table. “Love you too, baby.”

Steve is smiling when he leaves.

Eddie’s stomach flips over every time his eyes catch Steve in the hallways, glimpsing his dark sweatshirt on Steve’s body, seeing everyone see it without knowing it came from Eddie’s closet. He wants to tug him into the bathroom in the main building, to push him into a stall and kiss him so hard they both go blind for a second.

He refrains.

He finds a little sketch in his locker later, a pencil drawing on a ripped piece of lined paper. The pencil is dark and smudged, in the shape of a sweatshirt that’s rumpled and folded. Red pen marks where the sweatshirt is bleach-strained.

At the bottom of the page is written,

(got something to tell you)

Curiosity almost overcomes him, and he has to hold back from marching over and dragging Steve by the hand into the bathroom to interrogate him. Their eyes meet across the cafeteria during lunch, and Eddie raises his eyebrows at him.

But Steve just smiles and looks back at him, only blinking when he recoils when Tommy’s hand runs across his face suddenly, and Eddie laughs.

Steve’s collar is messed up again, under the collar of the sweatshirt. Eddie wonders why until he watches Steve lifts the sweatshirt up over his mouth and nose, watches his shoulders rise and fall as he breathes deeply, and he remembers watching Steve smell the sweatshirt the first time he pulled it from Eddie’s closet. Eddie looks away, rubbing his cheek and suppressing a smile.

Steve comes over after school. (Eddie kind of wishes they could do this every day. He really wishes they could do this every day.)

“What do you have to tell me?” Eddie asks as soon as he walks in, and Steve laughs softly, dropping his bag and following him to the sofa. He collapses onto Eddie’s lap when Eddie sits, holding his shoulders and grinning. Eddie’s hands catch his waist gently.

“‘S kinda weird,” he says softly, settling on Eddie’s legs before he reaches to Eddie’s hair, combing through it and pushing it back, tucking it behind his ears. Eddie’s cheeks feel warm, and he tilts his chin up at him.

“Tell me.”

Steve kind of slumps, looking at Eddie’s guitar pick as he plays with the ends of his hair shyly.

“I felt really pretty today,” he says in a small voice, quietly. Eddie’s eyebrows raise, and his hands slide over Steve’s waist, and his chest tightens.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“‘Cause of this?” Eddie asks, running a hand over Steve’s chest, touching the sweatshirt.

“Mhmm.”

“Think you gotta keep it.”

“I would,” Steve says, almost murmuring, leaning down and nudging their noses together. “But I need it to smell like you.”

“Well then you gotta move in,” Eddie says softly, and Steve giggles, kissing him. Eddie kisses him back, reaching up the back of his head, holding him carefully, tenderly.

He feels Steve relax against him as they kiss lazily, sighing when Eddie sucks on his lip. Eddie sighs in turn when Steve’s fingers bury themselves in Eddie’s hair.

Eddie’s hands creep slowly to the hem of the sweatshirt, but Steve pulls away, smiling. Eddie gasps, breathless, and opens his eyes to gaze up at him.

Steve nudges their noses together again.

“We have homework,” he whispers.

Eddie groans, shoving his face into Steve’s chest. Steve laughs, kissing his head before he gets up. Eddie watches him cross the room to get their backpacks, and he catches his when Steve throws it to him.

“We can make out when we’re done.”

Eddie sighs as Steve joins him on the sofa again.

“Curse my more responsible better half.”

Steve hums, grinning.

Steve doesn’t even bat an eye when Eddie gets up to pace while he works, just moving his legs out of the way so Eddie doesn’t trip. At some point Eddie can feel him watching him, but he doesn’t stop working.

Eddie only looks up when Steve takes his shirt off under the sweatshirt, pausing with his pen between his teeth to watch the hem of it ride up his stomach before Steve fixes it with a sigh, setting his polo aside. Steve must feel Eddie watching, because he looks up and meets his eyes.

“Focus,” he says firmly, a smile teasing his lips, and Eddie looks back at his worksheet, wide-eyed and teasing. Steve giggles quietly.

Steve finishes before Eddie does, but he doesn’t try to prompt him to make him work faster. He just lays his head on Eddie’s lap when he finally sits down heavily and looks up at the ceiling quietly. Eddie tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair right away, playing with it while he thinks, while he bites his lip and kicks his feet and listens to Steve breathe.

When he finally finishes, he sighs heavily and pushes his notebooks off his lap to the floor.

“Are you done or did you just throw everything?” Steve asks.

“‘M done. My brain’s fried. In a not good way.”

Steve snorts and looks up at him, tilting his head back. Eddie gazes back at him and moves his hand to caress his cheek. His skin is so soft.

Steve’s smile softens after a moment.

“What is it?” Eddie asks. Steve’s mouth twists for a second before he speaks.

“Do you… know what you’re going to do after you graduate?”

Eddie’s smile falls and he looks away, swallowing, suddenly nervous.

“I, uhm.” He’s still touching Steve’s face, so he moves his hand to his chest, resting over his heart. “No.”

Steve blinks at him.

Eddie’s never going to get over those eyes. It’s like they can see right into him.

“I don’t…” Eddie starts again, the thin wall he’s just built up falling away easily under Steve’s gaze. “I don’t even think I’m gonna graduate this year.”

Steve blinks again.

“Why?” he asks softly.

“Grades are shit,” Eddie says with a light shrug. “My brain doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, so…”

Steve frowns. It’s cute.

“What are you gonna do?”

Eddie shrugs again.

“Try again next year, I guess,” he says.

Steve half-smiles.

“We can graduate together,” he says lightly. Eddie’s heart swells a little bit. He hadn’t considered that.

“Wayne would like that,” he says softly. Steve’s smile widens, and his eyes close. “What are you gonna do after graduation?” Eddie asks after a moment, rubbing over Steve’s chest. Steve hums, opening his eyes and looking up to the ceiling.

“Dad wants me to study business,” he says softly. He lifts a hand to hold Eddie’s himself. “To follow in his footsteps.”

“Is that what you want?”

“…I don’t even actually know what he does,” Steve says, twining their fingers. “So no.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno,” he sighs. “Kinda just wanna get out of here, then figure everything out.”

“Outta Hawkins?”

“Mhmm.”

“You don’t like it here?”

Steve sighs again.

“Not really. I mean, I… I like you. And Tommy, and— And Gareth and Wayne.” Eddie squeezes his hand and smiles. “But Hawkins… It’s so…” He shakes his head. “Small. I guess. I think— I think Hawkins is what made me… Whatever I am.”

Eddie reaches with his other hand to brush his hair away from his forehead, and he leans down to kiss him.

“Where would you wanna go?” he asks quietly.

Steve hums softly, thoughtfully. Eddie gazes at him while he thinks, watching his eyelashes flutter with every blink, watching his nibble his lower lip until it’s shiny and pink.

“Maybe San Francisco,” Steve says finally, looking up at him with a smile.

“Why San Francisco?”

“Heard it’s really queer,” Steve says, his eyes shining. “Maybe I can hold your hand on the sidewalks.”

Eddie blinks in vague surprise.

“…You want me there?”

Steve blinks back, his fingers shifting on Eddie’s hand.

“Of course I want you there,” he says after a moment. When Eddie remains speechless, Steve moves his head so he’s laying across his lap instead on part of his thigh. “Eddie, I’m in love with you,” he says softly. “I want you there for everything.”

Eddie’s throat tightens and he swallows, looking away and blinking his suddenly stinging eyes.

“Okay,” he says weakly.

Steve is smiling brightly up at him, his hair fallen around his head messily.

“You wanna come with me?” he asks, and Eddie scoffs wetly, sniffling.

“Yeah,” he says. “Obviously. I’d follow you through hell and back, Stevie.”

Steve’s smile somehow brightens even more.

“We can take your van,” he says. “Just… pack our shit and go. Run away together.”

“Bring all your art,” Eddie tells him, brushing through his hair and ignoring the way the words Run away together make his heart pound. “Bet people in Cali will love it.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“Okay,” Steve says shyly. He looks away, at Eddie’s hand on his chest. Eddie gazes down at him, at their fingers twisted together.

“God, I wanna marry you,” he blurts.

Steve giggles, pulling at Eddie’s hand to kiss his palm.

“You think they’ll let us do that someday?” he asks after a moment, tracing the lines of his palm.

“Yeah,” Eddie says firmly after a moment. “I think they’ll let us do that someday.”

Steve is smiling at him, and he sits up, dropping Eddie’s hand and moving to hug him. His arms wrap around his neck and Eddie smiles, gripping his thighs and pulling so Steve sits on his lap, straddling his hips. (This is where Steve belongs, right on Eddie’s lap, in his arms.)

“Love you,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s he before he pulls away.

Eddie smiles, leaning to nudge their noses together, closing his eyes and breathing Steve in. He can basically feel the heat radiating from him, like he’s got the sun sitting on his lap.

Steve kisses him carefully, lingering and slow, and Eddie exhales, melting. He wraps his arms around Steve’s waist tightly, tilting his head back as Steve holds his head in his hands, his fingers pushing into Eddie’s curls.

Steve looks almost sleepy when they part, and he brushes his fingers over Eddie’s cheeks lightly, tickling him. Eddie’s hands crawl over his waist to the hem of the sweatshirt again, and he tugs at it gently.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers.

“Yes, please,” Steve breathes.

Eddie smiles and shifts to the edge of the sofa, gripping Steve’s legs and standing up. Steve’s legs wrap around him, his ankles locking behind his back, and he giggles, hugging Eddie’s neck again. Eddie kicks his door shut when he gets to his room and sits on the edge of his bed, hugging Steve back, nuzzling into his neck for a moment before he pulls away and reaches for the hem of his sweatshirt again.

Steve’s eyes are closed as he leans back and lifts his arms, letting Eddie pull it over his head. Eddie leans in as he tosses it behind himself to the bed, burying his face in Steve’s chest and sighing.

Steve’s fingers find Eddie’s hair again, playing with it as Eddie presses his lips just over where Steve’s heart is beating beneath his warm skin. Eddie presses his fingers into Steve’s hips, into his waist and belly and chest, kneading and pulling and groping and loving every inch of him.

Steve falls forward so he can press his face into Eddie’s neck.

“Alright?” Eddie whispers, because it feels wrong to speak in a voice anywhere above a breath right now. Steve nods.

“Feels good,” he breathes.

So Eddie doesn’t stop.

Steve’s lips find Eddie’s neck as Eddie touches him, and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as Steve kisses him softly. The kisses are soft, slow and wet and gentle, and Eddie can practically hear their hearts beating in tandem.

“Can I give you a hickey?” Steve murmurs.

“Mhmm.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie laughs softly, dragging his fingertips over Steve’s spine.

Gareth won’t stop making fun of the hickey the next morning, poking at it and asking if he got too cozy with the vacuum.

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m pretty hilarious, actually. People with functioning brains know that.

“I’m gonna go hang out with Steve and Tomm— Oh, shit, Tommy.”

Eddie jumps up and grabs his backpack, sprinting across the parking lot to where the two of them are sitting on the hood of Steve’s car, leaving Gareth behind.

He sits abruptly next to Tommy, grinning broadly and hugging his backpack to his chest. Tommy blinks, cutting off mid-sentence, and the boy he’s talking to stares at Eddie, wide-eyed.

“Good morning?” Tommy says, looking at him. Steve is suppressing a smile, looking around him at Eddie.

“Hello,” Eddie says, staring at him intently. “Will you help me with my stats homework?”

A short laugh bursts from Tommy’s chest.

“Yeah, sure, man.”

“God bless your heart.”

Tommy tells the boy he’ll see him later, and the boy gives him a look with a slow, “…Okay…”

“Where’s Gareth?” Steve asks as Eddie is finding the homework.

“Oh, I ditched him,” Eddie realises, turning to tell his name loudly, and Tommy cackles with a, “Holy shit,” and Steve covers his face, laughing.

Gareth joins them a minute later, leaning next to Steve as Tommy helps Eddie through his homework. He makes it so much easier than Murphy does, and Eddie finishes before the bell even rings.

“Tommy, I might be a little in love with you.”

Tommy gives a startled laugh as Steve cuts off the conversation he’s having with Gareth to make an offended noise.

“You’re still top of my list, honey,” Eddie reassured him, leaning back to look around Tommy at him, blowing him a little kiss.

“What a relief,” Steve says dryly. His eyes are sparkling.

The rest of the week goes by fairly quickly. The four of them hang out at Gareth's one day, then in the parking lot of the school the next, sitting in Eddie's van with their legs tangled. Gareth and Tommy pretend to gag every time Eddie kisses Steve's lips.

Steve spends Friday night at Eddie's. On Saturday, Eddie wakes up to find Steve and Wayne having coffee and watching a baseball game on the television, talking and laughing, and Eddie thinks for a moment that he's going to die.

Steve's parents leave on Sunday. Eddie finds out because Steve appears at his door on Sunday evening, in tears, trembling.

"What happened?" he asks quickly, pulling Steve inside. Wayne is out, but Eddie kind of wishes he was here.

"They left," Steve says weakly.

"Did they-- Did they do anything?" Eddie asks, his eyes scanning over Steve's face and hands, searching for any evidence of a fight.

"No, they just..."

"Breathe, honey," Eddie says gently, and Steve closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, slowly, shakily.

"They didn't say goodbye," he says finally, opening his eyes and looking at Eddie desperately. "They just-- They didn't even leave a note, they usually-- They usually leave a note."

“Steve, baby,”  Eddie tries, not moving to touch him because he’s pacing, his hands moving frantically. “Isn’t it a good thing that they’ve gone?” “Yes, but…” He sighs, rubbing his face. “They didn’t even tell me where they were going. They always tell me where they’re going. And they said they were leaving tomorrow, but they just– they were just gone when I got back from Tommy’s, it’s– it’s like I don’t even exist to them,” he says, almost crying. 

“Fuck them,” Eddie snaps, letting his anger at them bubble over. “They don’t— They don’t love you, Stevie,” he says, softening his voice as Steve frowns and blinks hard. 

“I know,” he says weakly. “They don’t love me.” 

Eddie’s chest hurts. He wants to reach out and hold him, but something tells him Steve doesn’t want that right now. Doesn’t need that. His heart is beating fast, recovering from the sudden adrenaline, the sudden panic from looking for bruises or scrapes or discolouration on Steve’s skin, but as it fades, Steve says, under his breath, almost to himself, almost mindless, like he doesn’t even notice himself saying it, “Nobody loves me.” 

“What?” Eddie says, his blood suddenly cold. Steve’s eyes snap up to Eddie’s, and they’re shining in a way that Eddie’s never seen. Vulnerable and weak and almost scared. “Steve,” Eddie says softly. “What do you mean by that?”

Steve takes a shaky breath, shaking his head and shrugging weakly, so subtly he almost barely does it all. 

“My parents…” he starts, his voice wavering. “My parents don’t love me.” His expression hardens a little bit. “And— And people at school don’t love me.” 

“Steve, what the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie asks as gently as he can. “People at school adore you.” 

“No, they don’t,” Steve insists. “They love– They love the king,” he says, gesturing aimlessly with a hand, pacing again. “And I– I never wanted to be him, I’ve fucking– pretended to be him for years, but I’m not him. They don’t love me,” he says. “They love who they think I am.” He stops, looking at Eddie, blinking tears back. Eddie’s chest hurts. “They don’t know me.” 

“I know you,” Eddie says softly. “Don’t I?” 

“Yes,” Steve breathes. “You know… You know all of me.” 

“And I love you,” Eddie tells him. “...You believe that, right?” 

Steve just blinks at him, his lip quivering, and Eddie’s blood runs cold again. It feels like all the air expels from his lungs. 

“...Steve?” he whispers weakly. 

“I…” Steve blinks again, and a tear falls. He takes a sharp breath, looking at the ground the way he does sometimes when he’s thinking as he talks. “I have gone… my whole life,” he chokes. “Without… Without being told I’m loved. And without– without feeling like I’m loved. And then suddenly the fucking– the fucking boy of my dreams is in love with me too, and it’s just… It’s just kind of unbelievable sometimes.” He looks up at Eddie, his eyes glistening with tears. “I do believe you. I want to believe you.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathes. 

“It’s just—” He wipes his face so hard it makes his cheeks red. “I’ve spent years pretending to be someone I’m not, and everyone at school loves a– a lie. They don’t know me, and— and my parents don’t know me at all, and I don’t know me, but you say you love me, and I don’t— I don’t know who you love, Eddie.” 

He’s crying now, actually crying. Trying to wipe his tears away as they fall, sniffling and gasping, and Eddie’s vision is swimming with his own tears. 

“Steve,” he says as firmly as he can. He steps closer when Steve looks up at him, distraught, and he finally touches him, wiping his tears. “I…”

“‘M sorry,” Steve says weakly.  

“Don’t,” Eddie tells him, kissing his forehead and wiping his cheeks. He’s quiet for a moment, just holding him, his stomach twisting when Steve’s hands clutch at his sides, gripping his shirt. He can feel them trembling against him. He tries to think about how to say what’s swirling in his mind, how to phrase it. Sometimes the things he feels get stuck in his chest, tangled like thread. “Your parents are pieces of shit,” he settles on, moving back and holding Steve’s face to look into his eyes. “They made you feel unloveable, but you are fucking anything but unloveable, Steve Harrington.” 

Steve closes his eyes, listening, and a tear slips down his cheek, dripping to Eddie’s fingers. 

“And I…” Eddie pauses, looking at Steve, scanning his face, looking at the moles that spot his skin in a pattern that Eddie has memorized, a pattern that Eddie sees at night when he closes his eyes. “I see you,” he tells him. “I know you. And I love you,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you think it’s… fantastical, or– or impossible.” He pauses, choking up a little bit, swallowing. He leans in to press their foreheads together, and Steve’s hands tighten. “And it is so, so easy to love you.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. 

“‘S my favourite thing to do,” Eddie murmurs, smiling softly. 

“How can you love me if I don’t even know who I am?” Steve asks quietly, finally opening his eyes. He looks like a fucking painting, his lashes all wet and dark, framing his shining eyes, his cheeks flushed red. Eddie aches.

 “You know I started falling for you before we even started talking?” 

Steve blinks. 

“I just… I just knew who you were on the inside,” Eddie explains softly. “And then we started talking and you… proved me right. That you’re kind and sweet and fucking…” He pauses to swallow, shaking his head, pressing a hand to Steve’s chest. “So fucking beautiful in here.”

Steve presses a hand over Eddie’s holding it to himself and taking a shuddering breath. 

“Why do I feel so…” 

He exhales heavily. Eddie feels his breath on his face. 

“So?”

“I don’t know.” Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders falling. He stares blankly at Eddie’s guitar pick. “Tired. I feel like…” He’s quiet for a moment. “I have been… pretending to be someone I hate for years. It feels like… Like I’ve been, like, flexing all my muscles at once this whole time, and I finally got to relax around you, but I… This fucking place, just—” 

He cuts off and shakes his head before he exhales, and Eddie brushes his fingers over Steve’s jaw gently, tenderly, wishing he could do anything to lessen the anguish in Steve’s eyes. 

"I just…" Steve exhales, his shoulders slumping, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment like he's been awake for days. "Kinda just… wanna get drunk 'nd go to sleep."

"No," Eddie says sharply, shaking his head, moving closer to run his hands over Steve's upper arms firmly. "No, you're not gonna do that."

Steve looks at him, and Eddie knows he knows.

"Talk to me, Stevie," he says, softening his voice. Steve sighs, closing his eyes for another moment, reaching to hold onto Eddie's shirt again.

“I’ve been holding myself up for so long," he says quietly. "Pretending and lying and acting like— like this perfect son, this perfect student, perfect friend, perfect asshole, and there’s this… this thing inside of me that’s been waiting, and waiting, and like… building up, and it’s gonna explode, and I just— I don’t know what to do.” 

He looks into Eddie’s eyes almost anxiously, nervously, and Eddie nods, brushing his thumb over his cheek reassuringly, but Steve doesn’t say anything else. 

“Steve,” Eddie says softly. Steve blinks at him. “I’m… going to ask you something,” he says slowly, carefully. “And I want you to really think about it before you answer me.” 

Steve’s lips twitch into a small smile, his expression lightening already. 

“Okay,” he whispers. 

Eddie pauses, holding his face, and he bites his lip, hesitating until he finally speaks. 

“Do you wanna act out?” 

Steve blinks at him, his expression unchanging, but Eddie can see the gears turning behind his eyes. 

“...Yes.”

Eddie grins.

part 20 read the whole thing on ao3 tagging: @suddenlyinlove (love ur URL btw) @thehumblefigtree <3 comment to be tagged in part 20 :)

[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

[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 :)

[cheekylittlepupp]

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

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p22

part 21

Eddie wakes up to Steve tracing lines across the side of his neck.

He smiles into the pillow, reaching out blindly to find him, and when he grabs at his waist he pulls him closer, mumbling, “C’mere.”

Steve rolls on top of him and their legs tangle as Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s bare waist. His skin is almost hot, warm from sleep and blankets. Steve’s chin rests on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie can feel him gazing at him, and he suppresses a smile.

“Bed head,” Steve says fondly. His voice is rough. Eddie hums.

Steve traces the spider on Eddie’s chest slowly, the body, then the legs, and then he kisses it. Eddie sighs, sliding a hand under the waistband of his boxers to squeeze his hip.

“I was thinking,” Steve says quietly.

“Mm. Sounds dangerous.”

Steve pinches Eddie’s nipple, and Eddie giggles, grabbing his hand to push it away.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, holding Steve’s hand to himself after a moment. Steve is quiet, his chin back on Eddie’s chest, just over his heart.

“…I don’t care if people know.”

Eddie slowly opens his eyes, blinking at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes find Steve. Steve is gazing at him, his chin squished so his lips are pouting.

“Explain?” Eddie says softly.

“I mean…” Steve exhales, looking back at the spider and tracing it again as Eddie pushes his hair back, running his fingers over the side of his head. “I don’t think we should, like, make out in the hallways and stuff, but I…” His lips shift thoughtfully, still pouting. “I like wearing your clothes. And I like, like, leaning against you and laying on your shoulder. And holding your hand. And I miss it at school.”

Eddie listens intently, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, thinking.

“…You know people will talk,” he says quietly. Steve shrugs weakly.

“People will always talk,” he says. “People already talk.”

“They’ll call you things.”

Another shrug.

“Whatever they call me…” Steve frowns a little bit, his eyes trained on Eddie’s. “I’ll make it mine. Like you.”

“Jesus,” Eddie sighs, blinking and letting his head fall to look up at the ceiling. He scratches his fingertips across Steve’s scalp.

“We don’t have to,” Steve says, misunderstanding. “We can— We can keep our distance, I don’t mind, I just…”

“No, baby, it’s just—”

He sighs again, looking down at him.

“They’re gonna give you so much shit, Stevie, shit that you don’t— you don’t deserve.”

“You don’t deserve it either,” Steve says. “Or Gareth, or your friends, or— or anyone that people are assholes to for no reason.”

“I know, but…” He touches Steve, tracing the moles on his cheek. “They’re probably gonna call you stuff. And harass you, and call you—”

“I know, Eddie,” Steve murmurs. “I’ve thought about it. I think about it every time I see you in the hallways because I wanna… push you against the lockers and kiss you until you can’t remember your own name.”

Eddie can’t suppress a grin, and Steve smiles up at him.

“I won’t do that, though,” Steve says.

“You can do it when we get home.”

Steve nods against his chest.

“So what do you think?” he says after a moment. Eddie gazes at him for a moment, tucking his hair back.

“Just… I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“I do.”

“It might be dangerous, Stevie.”

“I know,” Steve murmurs. “I’ve thought about it.”

Eddie gazes, tracing a line across his forehead.

“We don’t have to be super obvious,” Steve says softly. “I just wanna be able to touch you. Just… Your hand. Or, like, leaning against you. I feel like I’m dying every time I see you and I have to just look at you like we’re buddies.”

Eddie smiles softly, touching his face. There’s a line on his cheek from the pillow.

“We can let them all wonder,” Steve says quietly. “And then… we’ll run away together. Get married ’nd shit.”

Eddie’s eyes burn. He blinks them, looking up at the ceiling and listening to Steve giggle softly, biting his lip to suppress a smile.

“Jesus, I love you.”

“‘S nice,” Steve whispers, tilting his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s chest. He reaches up to wipe a tear for Eddie, leaving his hand up to twist in Eddie’s tangled curls. Eddie takes a deep breath, blinking tears back, focusing on the weight on Steve on top of him, the pressure of his head on his chest, the feeling of their skin touching.

He hesitates after a few moments, furrowing his brows.

“What if… What if your parents hear about us? Somehow?”

Steve’s eyes skim over Eddie’s face, his fingertips untangling a snag in Eddie’s hair.

“I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t really care.”

“Stevie.”

“I don’t, Eddie. They barely know me anyway. I already wanna leave home as soon as I can. Kinda wanna, like, cut them off eventually.” He looks soft, like he might cry, but his voice is strong. “I don’t care if they know.”

“If they…” Eddie pauses to collect himself, realising his hands are shaking. He holds Steve’s head, touching the buzzed hair. “If they do anything. If they find out, or— or you think they know or that they’ll find out, and you— you feel unsafe at all, you come to mine and Wayne’s.”

“I know,” Steve says with a small smile.

“Or Tommy’s if his dad isn’t home, or— or Gareth’s.”

“I know, Eddie.”

Eddie exhales, staring for a moment before he sits up, pushing Steve to sit across from him, their legs around each other. Steve glances down at himself, at his stomach, insecure, so Eddie moves closer and slides his hand across his belly, over the soft rolls, and he leans close to kiss him. It’s a soft, slow kiss, and Steve’s hands find Eddie’s shoulders, pulling his hair back to touch his neck as Eddie’s fingers press into his flesh.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks when they part.

“Yes.”

Eddie exhales, nudging their noses together.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says again, nodding, smiling. Steve leans closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulling him in tightly as Eddie slides his hands over his back firmly, down his spine to the waist and of his boxers and back to the nape of his neck.

They stay there for a while, just holding each other, face in each other’s necks, rocking back and forth a little bit without even really noticing, until Steve whispers, “Will you take a shower with me?”

“Is that a serious question?”

Steve giggles.

When Gareth and Tommy arrive, Steve’s hair is carefully styled with products that keep it silky smooth. Eddie’s hair smells like the same products, and he still feels weak in the knees from letting Steve run his fingers through his wet curls, scrunching them and twisting them around his fingers to form perfect ringlets.

Gareth and Tommy promptly ruin Steve’s hair by manhandling his head to see the shaved sides, simultaneously rubbing the sides of his head roughly and making him giggle.

They brought pizza.

Eddie brought weed.

Steve comments that maybe weed isn’t a great idea as he pulls Poltergeist out and holds it up for Eddie to see, but it doesn’t stop them. They all sit on the floor together, Steve leaning against Eddie’s chest between his legs, the others leaning against the sofa. Tommy and Gareth share a joint between them. Eddie and Steve share one, but Steve stays bundled under a blanket when he finishes his pizza, and Eddie just holds the joint down to his lips for him.

Tommy gets up to put another movie on when the first one ends because Steve refuses to get up. Steve falls asleep halfway through it.

Gareth lets his head fall to Eddie’s shoulder as they watch, smiling as he watches Eddie comb through Steve’s hair and rest his cheek on the top of his head. Tommy moves to lay his head on Gareth’s lap. (Gareth covers his eyes with a hand and has to stifle a laugh as Tommy reaches up to smack at his face, calling him an asshole.) Tommy falls asleep next, taking steady breaths, his shoulder rising and falling.

“I’m really happy,” Eddie murmurs to Gareth after a while, sounding sleepy. His eyes are trained on the television, his fingers tracing Steve’s knuckles as Steve holds onto his forearm that’s gentle across his chest.

Gareth sighs, nuzzling against his shoulder before he lifts his head and smacks a soft kiss to his temple, making him squeeze his eyes shut with a bright smile.

“I’m glad you are,” Gareth says as he’s laying his head back down. “I am too.”

—————————

The summer between Steve’s junior and senior years, he and Eddie go to Indianapolis to get away from Hawkins for a few days. They drag Tommy and Gareth along.

As they’re walking down a sidewalk, laughing and jabbing at each other, Steve lingers at the window of a piercing and tattoo shop, and Eddie stops, watching the way he gazes inside, eyeing the posters and photos.

They go inside.

They spend too long chatting with the people that work there, browsing the flash sheets on the walls and the displayed jewellery, until they all make their decisions.

Tommy doesn’t get anything, just because it’s not his style. (Though Gareth won’t stop teasing that he’s just scared, mouthing pussy at him across the shop.)

Gareth gets a septum piercing after much contemplation. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly as the piercer holds the needle up, and then after it’s done, he promptly says, “That actually wasn’t that bad,” even though his eyes are watering.

“You’re crying,” Tommy says, leaning against a nearby shelf and watching intently, curiously.

“It’s a natural reaction, Tommy,” Gareth says sassily as the piercer chuckles, putting the jewellery in in place of the needle. “You ever get punched in the nose?”

“No.”

“How’d you like to be?”

Tommy just cackles.

Eddie gets his right ear lobe pierced. It’s just a black stud for now, but he keeps eyeing the piercer’s gauges, the small black tunnels through his ear lobes.

Steve gets his left eyebrow pierced. Eddie already has the polaroid camera out of his bag, waiting, and as the piercer moves away to pick up the jewellery, Steve turns to look at him. His left eye is squeezed shut because the piercing is bleeding, bright red on his golden skin, the needle straight through his brow. Eddie lifts the camera without hesitation, and Steve lifts a hand in a lazy rock-on gesture.

(Eddie keeps the photo in his wallet, occasionally just opening it to gaze at him, at the smile just teasing at his lips, at his soft arms that are exposed because he’s wearing one of Eddie’s old Megadeath shirts, the sleeves cut off to battle the summer heat. The man of Eddie’s dreams.)

Eddie wipes the blood away for him after the jewellery is in place, and Steve tugs him into a chaste kiss.

Steve insists on paying for all three piercings, with the explanation of, “If my parents found out I’m using their hard-earned money for body modifications they’d lose their shit, so…” and a wink. Eddie just says, “I’m in love with you,” and the cashier laughs softly as Tommy and Gareth groan obnoxiously.

Eddie and Steve go back to the same shop before summer is over. Steve gets his septum pierced because he really liked Gareth’s, and Eddie holds his hand as he gets it done, laughing when Steve’s hand clenches and Steve lets out a gasp.

“Gareth is a fucking liar,” Steve says firmly as the piercer changes the needle for the nose ring. “Holy shit.”

Steve holds his hand as Eddie kicks his feet in anticipation as the piercer cleans the bridge of his nose, just between his eyes.

“This may be a horrible idea,” Eddie says, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Why’s that?” Steve asks, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“I really hate needles.”

Steve and piercer laugh, and piercer, a young woman with a buzzcut, tells him he can change his mind.

“Gareth would never let me live it down,” he says. “Let’s do this, stick me.”

“Alright,” she says, squeezing the bridge of his nose with the clamp and lining the needle up. His hand squeezes Steve’s so tightly it hurts. “On three. One—”

“Fuck you,” Eddie complains when she pierces him before three. She just laughs.

Steve pays again. He tells Eddie he wants to get his tongue done next, and Eddie sighs heavily like he’s annoyed before he tugs him into an alleyway and kisses him silly.

Come August, nobody in town really recognizes Steve. He gets the same stares Eddie gets as he walks down the street, the same squinted eyes and furrowed eyebrows and judging, wrinkled noses. He gets the same glares from parents as they turn their children around. Don’t stare, they say, even as they stare over their shoulders. And Steve realises everything about Eddie and his behaviour makes sense, because when an old man stares him down for more than a full minute, all Steve can think to do is stick his tongue out and hiss at him. The man looks away haughtily, huffing and turning red, and Steve just giggles to himself.

On the first day of school, he wears one of Eddie’s shirts that he’s stolen. A black t-shirt Eddie made Steve paint with bleach, leaving the soft, worn fabric stained red in a careful spider web across the chest. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s rings, and he fidgets with it during classes, rubs his fingers over it until the metal is warm as he tries to pay attention.

The teacher takes attendance silently, looking up around the room and checking off names, until she stops and asks, “Is Steve Harrington here?”

He raises his hand and says, “Here,” and then has to lower his head to hide his smile. Because the students around him look toward him at the sound of his voice, wide-eyed and already spinning rumours and theories around in their minds, rumours and theories that make their way to open air by the next day.

Steve Harrington’s been corrupted. He’s been dethroned, manipulated, possessed. It was Eddie Munson’s fault. Look at them. Listen to them. He called him Stevie. He’s holding his hand. What the fuck are they doing? What happened to Steve? What happened to the king? Where did he go?

Did you hear?

King Steve and the Freak.

Steve ignores them all as he leans against Eddie in the cafeteria, laughing at something Gareth says. He ignores them all as Eddie laughs into his hair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him closer, as Eddie’s fingers run across the side of his head, over his buzzed hair. He ignores them all as he throws a fry at Tommy, who catches it in his mouth and high-fives Gareth.

Because after school he gets to go home to Eddie’s trailer and kiss Eddie’s lips and cheeks and neck, and he gets to fall asleep to the sound of Eddie’s heartbeat. Nobody else gets that. Nobody else gets to see that. (Except Gareth and Tommy and Wayne on the occasions that Steve gets sleepy around them and leans against Eddie instinctively.)

They never confirm the rumours, even when Steve’s old friends corner him in the hallway with accusations of Satanism and rituals and Eddie brainwashing him. We’re worried about you, man. What did he do to you? Steve just glares at them, almost sneering at the faux concern in their eyes, at their gentleness after he saw them trip a little freshman in the hallway this morning.

You guys are fucking idiots.

He pushes past them without a second glance, ignoring their increasingly angry Steve!s that turn into Harrington!s that make his blood run cold. He just goes to meet Eddie at his van and says, “Wanna go home.”

When one of Steve’s old friends tells him, “Man, I don’t even recognise you anymore,” Steve has to fight a smile off, and he takes a breath before he says lightly, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

“What, am I in trouble?”

Drew scoffs.

“Dude, what’s going on with you?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at Steve, who seeths. “You’re so…”

“What?” Steve says coldly. “Weird?”

“Yeah. What’s going on with you?” Drew says, shrugging a little bit, and Steve’s jaw twitches as he takes a breath.

“Nothing,” he says evenly. “There is nothing going on with me. You just hate that I’m not exactly like you anymore.”

Drew scoffs.

“So, what, you’re like them?”

“Yes,” Steve says, his hands shaking. “I’m like them. And I’d rather be like them, or anyone fucking else, than like you.”

“You’re fucking pathetic, Steve.”

Steve nods, unblinking.

“I mean, you…” Drew shakes his head in disappointment. “You were the king, man. And then you started hanging out with Eddie fucking Munson.”

The sound of his name in Drew’s mouth makes Steve feel sick with anger.

“And everyone’s trying to figure out what that fag did to you, but—”

Steve has him pinned to the wall before he can even process it, his fist tight on the front of Drew’s shirt, his heart pounding his chest. Drew is wide-eyed, startled, breathing hard as Steve speaks in a quiet, even voice.

“You keep your fucking mouth shut about him,” he says softly. “‘Kay?”

Drew stares back at him, and he nods when Steve raises his eyebrows.

Steve shoves him against the wall harder before he releases him and leaves. Eddie is in the parking lot, leaning against his van, waiting for Steve when he comes out of the school, and even though there are still others standing around the parking lot, talking and laughing with their friends, Steve steps up close and wraps his arms around him tightly.

Eddie hugs him back even though he’s confused, tucking his face into Steve’s neck.

“What’s going on?”

Steve can feel the others eyeing them, but he doesn’t care. No one can hear them murmuring to each other.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

Steve pulls away after a few moments, standing in front of Eddie and hesitating.

“What happened?” Eddie asks softly, dropping his hands and pushing them into his pockets. Steve bites his lip, gazing at him.

“I’ll tell you later,” he says quietly.

Eddie nods.

Steve hesitates for a second before he leans in, tilting his head, and he kisses Eddie’s cheek lightly, chastely.

Eddie’s face flushes pink, and he suppresses a smile, hearing a soft voice behind them say Did he just…

“You really don’t give a shit, do you?” Eddie asks, amused, and Steve shakes his head.

“I am so tired of caring. ‘M done.”

Eddie tilts his head at him like he’s adorable, and then he reaches out and pulls at Steve’s hand.

“‘S go home.”

Steve keeps his hand on Eddie’s thigh as they drive home, and at red lights, Eddie reaches over to run his fingers over the side of his head, dragging his fingertips over his buzzed hair in the way that always makes him close his eyes and sigh.

Rumours about the kiss spread around the school by the next morning.

Did you hear that Harrington kissed Munson?

What?

Yeah, they made out in the parking lot.

They didn’t make out, Steve kissed his cheek.

I didn’t know he was queer. I mean, I knew Munson was, but Steve Harrington…

Steve ignores the stares he gets in the hallway, the way they’ve intensified. Some are malicious, but there’s a heavy ring on Steve’s index finger that could cause some damage if he had to throw a punch. When he’s asked about it (Are you queer? Are you with Munson?) he just stares at the questioner blankly until they leave. Eddie finds it hilarious every time.

Steve stays at Eddie’s more often than not. Wayne gets used to finding him in the kitchen in the morning, and the first time he ruffles his hair the way he does Eddie’s, Steve almost cries. (He and Steve take their coffee the same way, and they both tease Eddie for how much sugar he takes.)

The first time Steve hugs Wayne, it’s when he comes over to find one of his own paintings hanging on the wall above the sofa. He’d given the painting to Eddie last time he was over.

It’s a colourful, messy painting, the paint smooth and smudgy and almost smokey. He did it on his bedroom floor, kneeling on top of a blue tarp his father used to use to cover his car, his left hand clutching a bundle of paintbrushes, humming along to a mixtape Eddie made for him.

Steve had expected the painting to be in Eddie’s room, maybe resting against his mirror or propped against his windowsill, but it’s the first thing he sees when he walks into the trailer. There’s a hammer and nails still on the table.

“Oh,” he says.

“Is it straight?” Wayne asks, stepping out of the kitchen and setting a mug down on the table, looking at the painting. “I tried to get it straight but I can’t tell if I did it right. Eds is better with handy stuff like that.”

Eddie is at Hellfire. Steve came over anyway just because.

“It looks good,” he says weakly. His voice cracks. Wayne looks at him.

“You alright?” he asks gently. He’s always gentle. Steve sometimes wonders if Eddie’s told him about him, about his parents, the drinking. But part of him also thinks it’s just how Wayne is. Always gentle, kind, slow and patient. He’s always making tea.

“I’ve, uhm.” Steve clears his throat, sniffling. “All my paintings are on the floor in my closet,” he says, because he doesn’t know how else to explain everything he’s feeling.

Wayne just looks at him.

“Well that’s not where they belong, is it?” he says lightly after a moment, looking back at the painting. “You wanna bring any more, I can get Eds to put them up straight on the walls. Bring some colour in here.” He doesn’t see Steve squeeze his eyes shut. “He’ll probably make some joke about putting them up straight, though.”

Steve laughs wetly, nodding. He definitely would.

“You alright?” Wayne asks again as Steve is wiping his face. Steve nods.

And then he can’t stop himself from stepping over and hugging Wayne tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as Wayne hugs him back carefully. He takes a gasping breath, still trying not to cry, but Wayne rubs his back and murmurs a soft, “You’re alright, son.”

And then he’s sobbing. Son. He’s never been called that before. Wayne sways with him in his arms, rubbing his back, whispering to him, waiting until he pulls himself together.

“Sorry,” Steve says weakly as he starts to pull away, but Wayne tsks at him, shaking his head and wiping his tears away with his warm, rough, callused hands.

“You don’t gotta apologise, Steve,” Wayne says gently. “‘S alright to cry.”

When Eddie comes home, Wayne and Steve are both on the sofa watching a baseball game. Steve is wearing Eddie’s clothes, some black sweatpants and a heavy sweater that used to be Wayne’s, and Eddie pauses in the doorway just to look at them.

Steve drifts off as he’s listening to Eddie’s heartbeat. His eyes are closed, the baseball game turning into quiet white noise behind him, and as he’s starting to drift he hears Eddie say quietly, “We’re gonna run away together someday.”

“Are you?” Wayne says. Steve can hear his smile in his voice. Eddie’s fingers run across his shaved hair.

“Mhmm.”

“Where to?”

“Steve says maybe San Francisco,” Eddie says, smiling. His voice is rumbling in his chest. “We’ll see.”

“Send me a postcard, will you?”

“‘Course. We’ll send you some of Stevie’s art.”

“That’a be nice,” Wayne says. “Was talking to Steve about his painting. Said he can bring us more if he wants. Get some colour in here.”

“All your damn mugs aren’t enough colour for you?” Eddie teases.

“Steve likes the mugs.”

“‘S true.”

Eddie is still playing with Steve’s hair, his fingertips so gentle it’s like a lullaby. That with his heartbeat against Steve’s cheek.

“I really love him, Uncle Wayne.”

“I can tell, Eds.” Wayne is quiet for a moment. “I love him, too.”

Eddie shifts, falling to the side a little bit, and Steve falls with him, nuzzling into his chest as he settles, his hands tucked under his chin, legs drawn up across Eddie’s lap. He knows without looking that Eddie is leaning against Wayne.

Steve sighs. Eddie kisses the top of his head, and when he speaks again, Steve is too tired to understand him. He doesn’t try to, instead listening to the rumble of his voice, of Wayne’s voice when he responds. If he was awake enough, he would say it back. If he was awake enough, he would probably cry again. But Eddie’s fingertips are dragging through his hair, and his voice is smooth and low, and his heartbeat is steady, right against Steve’s face.

Steve falls asleep.

epilogue read the whole thing on ao3 tagging: @thehumblefigtree @cr0w-culture @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @bestwifehaver <3 comment to be tagged in the epilogue :)

[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.

[napping-sapphic]

Ugh this sucks i should be making you snacks and gently kissing you on the head instead

[gojoest]

pregnancy freak satoru holding your belly in his palms while he fucks you softly in missionary …………

[just-a-forest-nymph]

“I need a man with a black heart of gold// Don’t give me no lover// If he ain’t got the stones// ‘Cause I need a man who will fight for his own”

[bacchuschucklefuck]

❗❗Official Class Swap Sorcerer!Kristen Post Alert❗❗ you can: look at her