#post-S4 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hitlikehammers · 2 months

Text

feels like home

rating: t ♥️ cw: coming out, softness, recovering from the upside down ♥️ tags: pre-relationship, post-s4, fluff, hurt/comfort, Eddie is having many feelings, the main one being that Steve feels like home, platonic stobbin, supportive platonic soulmates coming out so Eddie feels safe to do the same, injury recovery, still-so-soft

for @steddielovemonth day seventeen: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl)

this definitely takes place chronologically after this one so: have some of these codependent lovebirds as they start to figure their big feelings out ♥️

It’s weird, and probably unhealthy, that his hospital room—like this—feels kinda like home.

But he thinks it’s okay, to be fair, because it’s not like he thinks this place is home; the smell of antiseptic is still pretty sharp in the air even as he’s gotten disconnected from one machine, drip, or monitor every day until he’s largely free to toddle to the bathroom on his own as long as there’s someone to watch and make sure he doesn’t fall. Wayne’s there for that when he can be, which explains the home associations, but: the rest of the time, in fact—kinda more often than it isn’t?

It’s Steve.

And Eddie struck a deal with himself—no digging in to the fluttery-gooey-warm-chest-squeezy feelings while he’s laid up in a bed—but when he walks around even under supervision, it’s…feeling like he’s cheating.

Plus the feelings are getting kinda…kinda loud.

Because Steve is always there, sometimes he ever stays when Wayne comes, at least for a while. He leaves to keep an eye on the Party, leaves to check up on Max, hits the community hub: but it’s…it’s such a blip of time, honestly, in comparison to being here, with Eddie.

And when he’s gone, it doesn’t…it doesn’t feel at all like home, it feels kinda fucking horrible, so.

Eddie doesn’t even actually have to dig in to that train of thought. It’s pretty fucking clear as-is.

He’s surfacing from kind of, like, a light doze, not even a full on nap, and he’s gentle with the coming-to of it because he can kinda, like, feel Steve’s presence at his side and he’s talking really low anyway, even if he couldn’t, so Eddie definitely knows it’s him, and he could have guessed the other visitor pretty easy even if it wasn’t her voice that was the first to bleed through with actual words:

“She’s,” Robin makes a little stifled whine; “you’ve seen her.”

“Not my type but,” Steve’s saying from next to Eddie; “ I see your point, yeah.”

“She’s like a,” Robin’s voice goes kinda hazy, a little dreamy; “like a fairy creature, or! Or like a prairie woman with those, those hats—“

“A prairie woman who likes boobi—“

“Stop!” Robin hisses low, and Eddie can feel her knock his mattress a little, she must lean over like she wants to enforce her will somehow: “stop stop stop—“

“If you can’t say it you probably shouldn’t be touchin—“ Steve’s saying and god, his voice is so bitching, and Eddie think he kinda fucking lov—

Oh. Oh, well. Shit.

“I’m not touching!” Robin moans, but kinda frantic with it; “the problem is I am not touching!”

And Eddie, too, is not touching the thought he just had about those four fucking letters that are, that, that are—

“Also it’s a gross, immature word,” Robin’s going on and…oh.

Oh.

Okay, so like: even if he’s just kinda in that liminal space of awareness, they have to know he’s more awake than not; his two remaining monitors are different even when he’s calm and just resting, but as the words themselves sink in, now? His heartbeat’s betraying the hell out of him for the staccato it’s pinging on the screen as he processes it: Robin’s showing her cards, though Eddie’d always figured she might be a bird of his feather, but, like—

“Is it though?” Steve’s murmuring low and so, so judgmental; “seems more immature to not say it at all,” and he, he fucking tsks at her, then, and, and—

And then—

Then Steve’s saying words that make no sense at all, like: sure they’re words. In English. Eddie’s very sure of it. So that means he should definitely comprehend them. But…

“You should listen to me, Robs, seriously. I do still like boobies, too. I have insights.”

And Eddie—Eddie’s eyes fly open, he thinks out of shock? That makes the most sense, like he’s startled into full-wakefulness, that tracks as he blinks up at the water-stainer ceiling with his heart in his throat as he tries to find sense in those words, fails, tries again, fucking fails, all as the Corsican Twins cackle over word choice, good god, and then—

“Hey.”

Steve’s grabbing his hand at the wrist and covering it so gently, fucking…cradles it and stories his thumb over the insistent tap of his pulse and meets his eyes, so wide and honest and earnest and if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already primed toward racing it sure as shit would have started just with those eyes on him, and that touch on him, and:

“You okay, man?” and it’s so simple, and Eddie doesn’t fucking know what’s happening on his face, what kind of of shock or terror or something deeper still is seeping from his expression but Steve’s studying him, watching for long seconds that stretch for-fucking-everbefore his jaw squares and his head tiles, something resolute shining through in him and he moves so slowly, lifts Eddie’s hand in his so slowly and Eddie doesn’t even wholly clock what’s happening, let alone that it’s real, as Steve fucking pauses their hands by his lips, so Eddie can feel his breath so warm and he watches, then, waits, and Eddie doesn’t think through what it means when he nods, like it’s not actually a legitimate thought, exactly, he just knows that, that—

Whatever’s happening, and however terrified he thinks he is: he can trust Steve.

Because somehow: Steve’s home.

It’s still fucking earth-shattering when Steve does lean, when his lips brush against the heel of Eddie’s palm, still scrape-covered, and then he reaches just as slow again for Eddie’s cheek to cup, to fucking cradle that, too, and Jesus H. Goddamn Christ—

“You’re safe, Eddie,” is all he says and maybe, maybe Eddie’s reading into it way beyond what he should, but like, it doesn’t feel like Steve’s telling him he’s safe maybe from the lingering threads of a nightmare, or that he’s safe from the government, from the cops, or from the Upside Down coming for them because they all know it’s still fucking coming but Eddie has felt scared of it once, yet, not like this, not here, with—

But Steve’s tone doesn’t just hold that: it’s bigger. He means…

They had to know he wasn’t really asleep, and so, Eddie, Eddie thinks Steve means…

Yeah.

Fuck.

“You’re outta water,” Steve’s saying and Eddie didn’t even notice he’d been reading to pour Eddie a glass from the ever-present pitcher at his bedside then he’s standing, his hand leaving and fuck all if Eddie doesn’t lean into it before he can think twice but Steve just smiles, soft, as he walks out the door.

“We talked about it.”

He turns to Robin almost violently, head kinda snapping her direction with the speed and force he moves with.

“We weren’t gonna hide it from you, but like,” she mashes her lips together, Eddie can see she’s trying to find a way forward with the least possible rambling, but the clearest possible throughway so she can get what she needs to say out, before Steve comes back.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to,” she hums a little; “be that, you know, open? With us, if you don’t want to,” her eyes are so big and sincere, and Eddie’s pulse is steadying if only slowing by a fraction, but she does help put him at ease, even as she trips a little over the rest: “if you had any thing that was, y’know, kinda private or, something,” she nods to herself and plays with the hem of her shirt: “yeah.”

Eddie nods to himself, and…he can’t, he can’t not ask her, not in this window, because she said they’d talked and if this wasn’t part of it she loves Steve fierce and he could be still a little fresh off death’s door, she’ll still tell him to fuck off if she needs to, so at least there’s that, at least he knows, like, he won’t be allowed to step where he’s not welcome, and—

“I’m,” and fuck, his voice is a mess, he does need a fucking drink but in the absence of one at hand, he clears his throat hard and accepts that consequences of it burning like hell; “he, umm,” Eddie bits his lip and gestures toward the empty door, eyes Robin kinda pitifully: “he said—“

Robin, thank fuck: Robin is merciful, has to see where he’s going, here, and she points to the doorway indicative of who isn’t in it, yet:

“Very both,” she says simply, then point to herself: “very…”

“Boobies?” Eddie suggests and Robin, she just groans.

“Not you too,” and…okay, shit, umm, well—

Eddie… maybe Eddie can be brave. Like, in small doses.

“Actually, ah, I,” he stumbled but then he makes himself take a breath, makes himself try:

“No, not me too,” he says in a rush and looks up at her through his lashes, so fucking vulnerable: “like, very specifically not, me too.”

And she smiles at him so warm and…like, almost welcoming, which is weird but feels, nice? And she pats his arm kinda affectionately and, just—

“Did you decide to take me up on my wisdom so we can actually accept she’s almost definitely into you, and move on to planning your wedding?” Steve slides back in and shuts the door behind him, getting to pouring Eddie some water before he even sits the fuck down.

His fingers brush Eddie’s as he passes it off and, it probably shouldn’t make Eddie all tingly, Steve did kinda kiss his hand? Like, a little?

But that don’t mean shit: Eddie’s all pins and needles and, like, sparkles.

“He’s the only help you’ve got here, Buckley,” Eddie screws his courage up one more time because…because Steve needs to know, too; Eddie wouldn’t put Robin in the position of not knowing whether she can tell her platonic soulmate something, make her keep a secret even by implication but so much bigger that that is, are—

All the things he doesn’t want to poke at, or dig up and examine, that he’s dodging on the excuse of convalescence: all those things taken into account: he trusts Steve. He feels…so much for Steve already, and he feels weirdly sure that whatever happens next, those feelings are only gonna find ways to grow, so—

Steve has to know, not just because Eddie thinks he suspects it, but because Eddie tells him—because it’s….’cause it’s Steve.

“Feels like it’d be foolish not to take the man up on the offer when he’s definitely the expert in the room,” Eddie pushes on, awkward but determined; “seeing as I don’t, umm, know about,” and his eyes flicker to Robin for a second, before they land on Steve to finish:

“About boobies.”

And Steve does say anything, doesn’t look any way save how he’d looked before: calm, and mostly-relaxed, and right next to Eddie, and Eddie’s eyes drop from Steve’s face and find the collar of his shirt, the peak of hair from in between and, shit, shit, he’s talking about tits and then there’s Steve’s chest hair and holy fucking wow he is staring:

“Umm, I mean,” and fucking fuck, now he’s talking—

“Like, not that kind, at least,” and then he forces his eyes down to the sheets over his lap and considers if it’s possible to dissolve into cotton if it’s startchy and uncomfortable as shit, and you happen to be mortified enough to sink into the fucking threads.

But then; then there’s Steve.

Because of fucking course there’s Steve.

And Steve?

Steve takes his cup from him when he could easily have leaned to put it down himself, but then Steve replaces the cup in Eddie’s grip with his own warm hand, like a tether, like a lifeline, like a…

Like a promise.

And when the conversation turns toward strategizing Robin’s approach for Vickie, Eddie’s, he, he just…

He’s home, y’know?

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

262 notes · View notes

anthonyjlockwood · 1 year

Text

take away this apathy (bury it before it buries me)

---

The hotel room is empty, just like all the ones before it.

There are the standard amenities, Damien supposes, but... boring things, like a bed he won't be able to sleep in and a safe he's got nothing worth keeping in.

He's coming to find that the most valuable things can't be stolen. They can't be kept.

There's no safe that can contain what he wants most -- what he's refusing to let himself consider the possibility of having. There's only so much drinking he can do to forget before the memories rear their ugly heads, just another layer of toxic sludge atop everything else the alcohol is bringing to light.

His thoughts are consumed by days in a car, nothing but cliffs and desert skies as far as the eye can see. A blurry face framed with dark hair, scrunched like an accordion into a smile that Damien knows deep down isn't really genuine.

Because he was playing Mark like an instrument back then. And the worst part of all the memories of that time is the slight doubt he still has that everything in his and Mark's relationship was fabricated. The barely-there desire he won't let himself indulge in that maybe it wasn’t all fabricated. Maybe some part of Mark wanted to stay.

At least some of it had to be real, right?

Maybe not.

Probably not.

It wouldn't be anything new, or unexpected, or shocking, if it wasn't.

Mark wouldn't be the first person to want to leave him.

Damien’s days since he lost his power have been a blur. Of dead-end job after dead-end job. Of waking up in hotel rooms he doesn't recognize. There’s only one thing that has remained relatively unchanged. He drags himself from morning to night with the same spiteful emptiness he possessed back when he could possess absolutely anything. Nothing had to be worth living for, because Damien could get whatever he wanted.

Now, though, whatever he lacks purpose he makes up for in apathy. Willing it to envelope every inch of his mind like a numbing agent, because the alternative is to feel – and he doesn't know what those feelings would bring.

So he isn't sure what possessed him to take out his cell phone – one of those cheap, burner flip phones, because Damien has to work for his money now, and he can't afford a good one – and dial Mark’s memorized phone number with numb fingers. He stares at it until the digits blur together, splitting apart in his vision as an echo of them floats to the other side of the small screen.

He blinks, the action clearing up his vision but doing nothing for the thoughts, the memories, the feelings sending a shockwave of pain through his bloodstream. He gasps against them, taking in a sharp breath of stale hotel room air and letting it out shakily.

He tosses the phone down on the desk beside him, running a sweaty hand through his sweaty hair.

There’s only one problem.

The call went through.

He sees it there on the screen, the name MARK BRYANT in bolded, mocking letters. He scrambles to pick up the phone and end the call, but it’s like a jellyfish in his fingers, slipping out of his grip and clattering back onto the scratched wood.

He isn't fast enough. But it doesn't matter. Back then, Mark was infamous for not answering his phone, and it isn't any different now.

Just another thing that hasn't changed.

You’ve reached Mark, for some reason! It’s 2017, last I checked. Just text me! Or, you know, leave a message, if you must.

The sound of Mark’s voice – the words he’s saying – are a punch to the gut, sending an electric shock of pain straight to Damien’s heart. He thinks a lightning strike would hurt less.

This is what it’s like, then; letting yourself care about somebody.

He’s about thirty-five seconds into his silent voicemail message – one that he doesn't even care about sending; doesn't care that Mark will see, eventually – when he slaps the phone closed, heart racing and head pounding and the regret he’s been running from for years right on his heels.

#the bright sessions #tbs #mark bryant #damien gorham #robert gorham #damiark #mark/damien #post-s4 #the bright sessions fic #shelly's fics

30 notes · View notes

hellcheerficdatabase · 7 months

Text

Meet me under the bleachers

Author: @nature-and-music

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description: Chrissy has spent the week teasing and messing around with Eddie. It would be one thing when they're alone, but she's doing it at school. Eddie is definitely surprised at her attempts, but he's certainly in for an even bigger surprise at the end of the week.

Tags: Alternate universe- canon divergence, alternate universe- everyone lives/nobody dies, post-s4, post-vecna, established relationship, Chrissy is a tease, plot? what is that? we only know p*rn, smut, they're both touch-starved, Chrissy is whipped, they're hornyyyyy, Chrissy POV, one-shot, status: completed

7 notes · View notes

bcficrecs · 2 years

Text

two truths, one lie by @sheriffandsteel

"She's my daughter." Beth means to stop there but the next words slip out of their own accord, one more truth free of charge. "And I'll kill anyone who tries to touch her."

Beth escapes the prison with Judith and searches for their family. Being alone with a baby and trying to keep them both safe from the dead and worse, the living, is no easy feat. When she is offered sanctuary from an unlikely source she doesn't trust it, but she still takes it.

"What do you want?" her voice doesn't shake, Beth isn't sure how as she feels like she is shaking like a leaf but her voice comes out steady and cool. It reminds her of Daryl, as much of a hothead as he can be, when they are in danger he can keep his voice steadier than anyone when facing trouble.

"Your shit." the man in the middle says calmly, taking a step forward heedless of the gun in Beth's hand. "Then you."

The world sways and Beth conjures up Daryl's blank face when people threatened him and forces her face to wear the same features.

"You can't have us." Beth drops her hand from Judith whose cries are providing a fitting soundtrack to this moment and draws her machete in her right hand. She hopes that these people take it as a sign she is willing to fight hard and not as a signal that the gun is empty. She has never killed someone before but as she stares into the remorseless eyes of the people before her Beth knows that she will tonight. If that is what it takes for Judith and her to walk out of there she'll do it. Until the bitter end, she will fight, no matter what it costs her.

She thinks that the man before her is smiling but she can't tell through the dirt and the darkness. A movement flickers in the corner of her eye and Beth's heart sinks as she remembers her back is unprotected. She has been so worried about the people before her she hasn't spared a second to worry about watching her back.

To her surprise, the people before her don't look smug to watch their friends surrounding her. One is inching slowly to the woods and the others are stepping backward.

"You said she was alone." the leader hisses to the one on the right whose eyes are so wide Beth can see the whites from where she stands.

Before she can wonder too much at their reactions or fear what is behind her several loud shots ring out. They are loud enough to be heard over Judith's cries and Beth's ears ache from all the noise. Blood rains on the pavement as the four people before her crumble to the ground. Some of the splatters reach Beth's boots and she blinks at them for a moment before spinning around, her ankle protesting at the movement. She keeps the gun steady and the machete high as she surveys this new group of problems in the quickly fading light.

Three men, two women. Some primal fear deep inside Beth lessens at the sight of the women although it doesn't fade completely. Four of them are holding the guns that killed the people behind her and saved Beth and she feels a heady mix of gratitude and fear. The fear wins out and that keeps her arms steady as the fifth member of this new group scans her up and down.

Beth can't help but wonder what he sees, easy pickings like the group he just took out clearly did? Someone weak and willing to cow to them because they saved her life? Certainly not as someone to fear or he wouldn't be smiling at her like that, letting his weapon of choice rest casually against his leather-clad shoulder as if he'd just hit a home run and could saunter around the bases instead of the usual sprint.

"Well now," he tuts stopping just out of reach of her machete should she choose to swing it. As if she would be stupid enough to do so. Beth can see two of the guns pointed at her. She wonders if both shots would be meant for her or if one would be intended for Judith. The thought makes her sick and she wants to curl around the little girl in protection but that would mean lowering one of her weapons and Beth doesn't dare risk that, not with guns on her and the man before her.

His eyes flicker from her gun to the machete and he smiles at her like he's the big bad wolf from the story and he wants to show her how sharp his teeth are.

"Is that any way to thank your Saviors?"

#bethyl fanfiction #fic rec #canon divergent #saviors au #post-s4 #no grady #beth greene #daryl dixon #beth and daryl #beth x daryl #beth/daryl #fake marriage #angst #mc fic #judith grimes #fake family #sheriffandsteel

30 notes · View notes

ladyvialana · 2 years

Text

Fic: Secrets

Stranger Things fic. Mike-POV. Mike/El & Mike/Will

Summary: The thing is, Mike feels like he’s still lying to El. He feels like his heart is breaking every time he looks at her.

But maybe that’s the new normal for him. Because he feels like his heart is breaking every time he looks at Will as well.

Series: Seventeen Seconds

Notes: post season 4, spoilers for season 4 Vol. 2, missing scenes, introspection, angst

Also on Ao3

When Eleven woke up and told them about Max, all Mike could do was hold her as she sobbed. That moment when he finally felt like he was doing something important – that his words were helping rather than hurting El – vanished so quickly it was as though it had never existed. The helplessness he’d been feeling ever since his first day in California took hold of his body again as the water from the bath and El’s tears soaked his clothes.

He shared a frantic glance with Will, who was just as devastated by the situation.

Mike wanted to reach out to him too – hold his hand and reassure him that everything would be alright (even if it was a lie). But he couldn’t. El needed him. So he just stared at Will over El’s bowed head, watched tears fill his eyes then watched him visibly push them back when he saw Mike watching.

Mike didn’t know what he looked like to have Will reaching out towards him instead of the other way around – didn’t want to know (just like he didn’t want to examine what he was feeling right now). He almost gave into the temptation of the reassuring touch Will was going to offer, but he refused with a sharp jerk of his head. He couldn’t let himself fall apart when he was supposed to be the one supporting El right now.

Will flinched and Mike almost gave in again, but Will seemed to understand what Mike was trying to suppress and nodded. He moved away, leaving Mike and El by the bath, to hug Jonathan and gain some comfort from his brother’s embrace.

Mike curled further around El’s shuddering body, trying to shield her as much as comfort her.

He didn’t think it helped.

***

Back in the van on the way back to Hawkins – all of them exhausted but dry and stable enough to attempt the drive – Mike caught sight of the painting Will gave him not even a day ago.

“You’re the heart.”

Mike closed his eyes.

What bullshit.

He was sitting the middle of the backseat of the van between Eleven and Will with what felt like acres of space between them despite how cramped the van actually was in reality. Both Will and Eleven were staring out at the passing landscape, quiet and caught up in their thoughts. Mike wanted to break the silence, but he didn’t know what to say – how anything could possibly raise their spirits or comfort them.

He almost reached out, fingers twitching towards El’s hand. But, as though sensing his intention, she pulled her loose hand up into her lap and curled her arm around her middle.

It wasn’t enough. What he said to her back in the trance. He could barely remember what he said – too terrified to think about anything beyond telling El how much she meant to him. He knows he told her ‘I love you’. But it still wasn’t enough, not to help her then, and not to comfort her now.

(Maybe she could tell, that he was panicked and desperate – that, if asked, he would struggle to say those three words again without it feeling like they were choking him. And it was so stupid – because he does love her. He does! So why didn’t it feel like enough? That he was losing her anyway?)

Mike turned away from El’s blank facade to examine Will instead. He didn’t try to reach out, even though Will’s hand was still resting on the seat, palm up as though waiting for comfort himself. Mike knew how easy it would be to make Will look at him and smile, that even a brush of their fingers would give both of them the comfort they craved. But Mike hasn’t been fair to Will – didn’t deserve to let himself sink into Will’s warmth right now. Will was always the one reaching out – always the one to give Mike the right words and guide him in the right direction. And what had Mike given him in return?

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that pep talk in the van back before they found El again wasn’t just about El’s feelings. He knew that Will was still upset by their fight back in California – that, as much as Mike feared he was losing Will, Will felt exactly the same way. He knew there was more Will wanted to say – needed to say – but Mike was terrified that he really would lose Will for good. He didn’t ask about Will’s tears – didn’t try to comfort him – because he was afraid of what he might hear. Of what he might to or say in return.

“Because what if they don’t like the truth?”

The truth was that Mike felt inadequate. Irrelevant. He couldn’t do anything to help the people he loved – half the time his interference seemed to make things worse. Even just showing up to visit caused his (ex?) girlfriend to cry and nearly caused an irreparable rift between him and his best friend.

So Mike doesn’t speak and doesn’t reach out. He leaves the two people he loves most to agonising silence and hates himself for it.

#fanfic #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #eleven hopper #byler #mileven #stranger things spoilers #season 4 spoilers #post-s4 #introspection #angst #vialana's fic #seventeen seconds series

15 notes · View notes

raayllum · 11 months

Text

i love it when characters are unfair, actually. i love it when they’re uncouth and cranky and hypocritical, i love it when they have cognitive dissonances, i love it when they make good and bad choices for the wrong reasons. i love when they’re short to anger and hard to understand. i love it when they’ve destroyed themselves for nothing but can’t even see either part of it yet. i love it when they’re messy and selfish and bad at communicating. i love it when they get convinced of their own ego and stuck in a feedback loop regarding their own warped paranoia. i love it when characters actively make their lives unknowingly harder for themselves. i love it when characters don’t know they’re in a story. i love it when characters are like real people

#text post #the dragon prince #the gang's all here #s4 is my best friend #tragedy enjoyer #morally ambiguous fam #viren #claudia #rayla #callum #runaan #tdp viren #tdp claudia #tdp harrow #tdp runaan #tdp rayla #tdp callum #king harrow

23K notes · View notes

marthajefferson · 3 months

Text

BLACKADDER + iconic quotes

1983 - 1989, BBC, created and written by: Richard Curtis, Ben Elton & Rowan Atkinson, with: Rowan Atkinson, Hugh Laurie, Miranda Richardson, Stephen Fry, Tony Robinson and Tim McInnerny.

#and nothing for season 1 -i just don't like it so let's ignore it #ANYWAY PLEASE watch blackadder (s2 s3 & s4) bc look at the cast & the writers?!!#blackadder #rowan atkinson #hugh laurie #stephen fry #miranda richardson #tvedit #tvgifs #televisionedit #televisiongifs #perioddramaedit #perioddramagif #cinematv #tvfilmsource #tvarchive #blackadderedit #LONG POST

3K notes · View notes

pralinesims · 5 months

Text

Some of my CC faves, accessory edition!

Over the years I've made quite a lot of CC, and in between all those items, I wanted to highlight some of my faves.

My makeup or genetics faves: *CLICK*

Glasses | Nails

EXOV Glasses // 1. SUGAR MILK Stiletto Nails

DUNE Glasses // 2. BUBBLE POP Coffin Nails

PAPILLON Glasses // 3. REBEL Nails

MACHINE Glasses // 4. CHROME TIPS Nails

UNION Glasses // 5. ENIGMA Nails

DOMINO Glasses // 6. ANNIHILATION Nails

Earrings | Necklaces

DELTA Earrings // 1. COUNTDOWN Necklace

MALICE Earrings // 2. SCORE Tattoo Choker

THUNDER Earrings // 3. FIRETRUCK Choker

ZEALOUS Earrings // 4. KINGDOM Choker

HEARTBEAT Earrings // 5. SHADOW Necklace

SCINTILLA Earrings // 6. ANISE Choker

Misc. | Piercings

INSOLENCE Headphones // 1. OBSESSION Lip Chain

OZONE Earbuds // 2. BLUFF Tongue Piercing

DAYDREAMIN' DIY Cap // 3. REGENT Nose Piercing

SHINIGAMI Mask // 4. TROUBLE Piercing

DIVISION Monocle // 5. NEW WORLD Lip Ring

BLOODTHIRST Eye Patch (TW) // 6. EXILE Piercing

If you like, please consider to support my work 🖤 ● ALL MY CC DOWNLOADS

#masterlist #my cc #ts4cc #s4cc #the sims 4 #the sims #simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #sims #sims 4 custom content #ts4 cc #s4 cc #long post

3K notes · View notes

sp0o0kylights · 5 months

Text

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms.

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans.

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at.

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming.

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme.

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym.

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel.

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give.

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures.

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.)

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds.

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious. “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.”

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was.

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it.

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome.

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again.

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!”

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!”

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s.

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!”

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.”

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise.

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for.

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.)

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con.

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.”

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of;

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all.

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.”

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this.

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game.

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all.

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.)

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly.

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

“Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?”

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of a few silly images.”

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room.

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!”

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air.

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking.

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!”

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed.

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.)

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway.

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.”

Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.”

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

3K notes · View notes

potato-lord-but-not · 5 months

Text

Some doodles hi I’m going a bit insane

#buc ee’s shirt Jon truther #also roots has to be my new fav ep just saying #oh also posting is gonna slow down I have. business I need to tend to #artists on tumblr #traditional art #the magnus archives #the magnus archive fanart #tma #tma fanart #magpod #tma s4 #tma s3 #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #annabelle cane

2K notes · View notes

sickmachete · 11 months

Text

will's thirst for blood keeps costing hannibal suits

#my art #hes too in love to mind though ♥️#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannigram #murder husbands #post fall hannigram #blood #<333 #etc etc #convinced s4 would just consist of hannibal having to reign in wills insatiable bloodthirst #hannibal sending a silent prayer for his expensive suits every time he sees that look in wills eyes that mean hes Pissed

4K notes · View notes

hellcheerficdatabase · 1 year

Text

primadonna on fire

Author: @shroomystar

Rating/Warning: Teen and up audiences. referenced ab*se

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description: It’s… the strangest thing, really. Eddie Munson in front of her, with his long frizzy hair and the leather jacket, smelling like weed and sweat, his eyes dark and deep and kind. They don’t even feel like they belong in the same universe.

Tags: Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, post-S4, Chrissy lives, hurt/comfort, getting together, Chrissy is DONE, Chrissy is a badass, Chrissy POV, one-shot, Status: Completed

6 notes · View notes

bcficrecs · 2 years

Text

The Breakwater Dove Series by MissMadimeow

Part 1: Lay Your Cheek On Down

After losing the funeral home, Daryl and Beth are forced into the wind, nothing but the trees as companions while they process who and what they are.

Part 2: Psalms, Beasts, and the Unbeliever

Be a cold, closed book. Take no shit and take no hands. Mantras etched into Daryl’s skin began to fade as he basked in soft, golden light. It would mark their downfall.

“Sounds like our friends finally got off their asses.” Daryl whispered to the girl as they got back to their feet. Hearing the chaos that they started made him feel uncomfortable. They threw a molotov in the middle of the cat fight and now everything was on fire.

“What now?” Beth asked and the only answer that came to mind was ‘run’.

A bullet whizzed by her cheek, floating a few strands of yellow hair into the air. Daryl yelled something and they ducked behind a couple thick trunks. Cursing, he raised his crossbow and let the air settle around them, hoping for a hint of their attacker. Judging by the angle of the shot, he guessed the guy was pressed against the left corner of the house a few feet away. They couldn’t run, they were pinned. He had one shot.

The image of the bullet barely missing smooth skin was enough to bring out an anger Daryl had barely tapped into. He took a shaken breath, deep and low into his chest, and flung himself away from the tree and out into the open. His finger pulled and the arrow went singing through the yard and landed silently in a neck.

He motioned behind his back and the two of them crept across the lawn and retrieved his bolt. The man on the ground was spluttering blood and Daryl put him out of his misery with his knife. They stayed crouched and listened. The amount of gunfire simmered down drastically, but they could still hear the obvious sniper rifle discharge which meant the gate had not been breached.

Daryl almost allowed himself a moment of victory when Beth shouted his name.

Suspended clarity. It always showed its ugly head at the worst of times.

Daryl looked up slowly, witnessing the flash of golden hair and a yellow shirt blocking his view of someone coming around the side of the house. Beth had her gun up and she attempted to fire but missed the shot. The other guy was luckier.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her tiny body twitched backwards and Daryl was on his feet, crossbow loaded and firing into the left eye socket it aimed at. He panicked, watching the enemy fall as Beth did the same. She let out a gasp as a small red patch expanded across her stomach.

#bethyl fanfiction #fic rec #za #canon divergent au #post-s4 #beth greene #daryl dixon #beth and daryl #beth/daryl #beth x daryl #mc fic #series #angst #romance #smut #team family #near-death experience #MissMadimeow

13 notes · View notes

steveshairychest · 11 months

Text

Eddie 'flattery works on me' Munson goes bright red and loses his ability to say anything other than 'thank you' in the softest voice he's ever spoken in when Steve praises him in any way. Sometimes, he doesn't even know what to say because his brain goes offline; it blue screens and leaves him with nothing but flushed cheeks and a shy smile.

#I HAVE A STEDDIEWEEK POST COMING IM JUST AT WORK RN #HAVE THIS INSTEAD #steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #st4 vol2 #stranger things s4

4K notes · View notes

imfinereallyy · 11 months

Text

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

#steddie #stranger things #Steve eventually gets a hummingbird tattoo #everything I write is soft #they deserve to be soft #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #cw: implied homophobia #cw: internalized homophobia #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #robin buckley #steve x eddie #soft boys #post s4 #bisexuality awareness

4K notes · View notes