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juiceicicles · 10 months

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Mean and Scary | Chapter 1: King of Hawkins High

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48053206/chapters/121165750

Pts: 1, 2, 3

As he traipses through the woods, Eddie tries to get a bearing on what is about to happen and what his plan is for when it inevitably goes sideways.

Dealing pot to Hawkins Royalty like King Steve isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but doing it alone at a picnic table in the middle of the isolated woods? Yeah, not Eddie’s smartest decision for a meeting place.

In his defense, he’s only a hop skip and a jump away from the high school, and he couldn’t be assed to drive any further for what’s likely going to be a one time payment of $20. $25, if he overcharges Steve (which, he absolutely plans to do.)

Eddie finally gets to the clearing and Steve jumps when he notices him, finally looking away from a tree he was seemingly having a very intense staring match with.

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Sorry,” Eddie chuckles a bit awkwardly, trying his best to subconsciously communicate that he is not a threat, because he really doesn’t wanna get his lights punched out right now “Didn't mean to scare you.”

Eddie sits down and his metal lunchbox clatters onto the table —Steve flinches again. Boy, Harrington is jumpy— and sits across from him. He opens up his Pail-o’-Drugs and watches as Steve drums his fingers on the table.

“There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.” Eddie honestly didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be worried about being caught, considering that Steve apparently used to hold daily house parties.

He still can’t believe it. King Steve goddamn Harrington sitting there, in all his douchey glory. Or at least, that’s what Eddie expected. Instead he sort looks exhausted. His eyes keep flitting around, and he looks like he just saw a ghost.

You see, Harrington was never a dick to Eddie, specifically. However, he sure as hell didn’t treat the freaks of Hawkins High with any sort of sympathy. Hence Eddie’s original plan to act like the biggest asshole he possibly could without scaring off a rich customer. But something about Harrington’s eyes, a sort of dull terror etched into the hazel brown, is making Eddie reconsider that decision.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” Steve sort of mutters. This is so utterly different from everything Eddie heard about him. Steve always roamed the halls with a sick sort of ironclad confidence, with his two jackals Tommy and Carol following his every beck and call. The boy across from Eddie though? He seems so haunted. Like a flickering projection of someone. A puppet with its strings cut.

“Uhh just like any other old sale, except cash only, and for obvious reasons, no receipts,” he gives Harrington what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

A squirrel skitters up a tree in the background, and Harrington gasps quietly and whips around to track it. And then, finally, it clicks for Eddie.

Steve’s worried about being seen with Eddie the Freak Munson. Figures. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from King Steve.

“Hey, we don’t need to do this. Just give me the word, and I’ll walk away.”

“It’s not that, I don’t want you to go.” Steve starts, tentatively. He’s still looking around, like somethings about to pop out of the woods. “It’s just…Do you ever feel like you’re loosing your mind?”

And, of course Eddie feels like he’s lost his marbles. He’s a super senior with the nickname the Freak. Obviously he sometimes feels a little crazy. He’s a little surprised that notorious cool guy Steve Harrington feels that way, though.

He makes the decision right then and there to see this out, because even if Harrington’s afraid of being caught, there’s something here that Eddie’s missing.

“You know on a daily basis. I feel like I’m loosing my mind right now,” screw it, might as well be honest, go big or go home right? “doing a drug deal with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.”

“Ah, well, I haven’t been king for a while…” Steve trails off.

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Remembers how he made him want to beg every god there was for Steve to steal back the crown. Billy Hargrove was mean to Eddie. He was mean to everyone. And he wasn’t highschool-mean either, he was Larry Munson mean. He was a jackass who wasn’t afraid of anyone and wanted you to know it.

Unprompted, Eddie remembers the first time he met Steve. Before he was Hawkins Royalty, before he was a jock and a bully, before Eddie was the freak and not just a freak. Eddie had just gotten to Hawkins, his old man had been put away and the US government dropped lil’ Eddie on Wayne’s doorstep. He’d met some friends and formed a shitty garage band. They’d played at the middle school talent show, and Eddie had lost his guitar pick. A boy about his age had given it back, told him his name was Steve and he had found it underneath his chair in the seats.

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out.”

“No?”

Eddie lets out a little chuckle. Of course Steve wouldn’t remember. “It’s alright.”

He clutches at his heart like he’s been shot with an arrow and flings himself off the bench and into a pile of leaves behind him. He hears Steve let out a little gasp before he hops back up.

“I wouldn’t remember me either, Harrington!”

Steve looks a little amused, and Eddie catches a light brown blob in his peripheral vision. He combs his fingers through his hair and dislodges a dead leaf.

“Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?”

Steve lets out a little chuckle as Eddie starts to gets into his story. If there’s one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it’s story telling.

“Middle school, talent show. Carol I think did this cheer thing? You know the thing the,” Eddie mimed some pom poms. Steve was smiling a little bit, so Eddie continued his spiel, “and I- I was with my band.”

Suddenly Steve pipes up “Corroded Coffin! Oh my god!”

Eddie’s bewildered that Steve apparently remembered their weird prepubescent metal show. He claps his hands excitedly and points to Steve. “You do remember!”

“Yes, of course! With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You’re a freak.” Eddie’s pretty pleased with himself when his lack of brain-to-mouth filer apparently doesn’t offend Steve. In fact, Steve breaks out a smile. It’s less Harrington Charm then Eddie expected, more of a dorky toothy grin.

“No you just- you looked so-“

“Different? Yeah. Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

“You played guitar right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do.” And since Eddie is an impulsive mess and isn’t totally hating this interaction, he does something that totally spits in the face of the tried and true Munson doctrine and invites a preppy jock to a metal concert, “You should come see us. Uh, we play at the Hideout on Tuesdays. It’s pretty cool. We- we actually get a crowd of about five…drunks.”

Steve laughs a bit and clamps a hand over his mouth, like he’s a bit startled by the noise. Eddie doesn’t blame him, he’s a bit caught off guard too.

“It’s not exactly the Garden, but, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

Steve looks at Eddie with a considering gaze for a moment, like he’s trying to figure Eddie out.

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“What, a total freak?”

“No, no. Honestly? I thought you’d be mean. And scary.”

“Me? Steve Harrington thought I’d be scary?”

“Yeah! You’ve got this whole, I dunno, chains and leather vibe. Thought you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Yeah?”

“Terrifying.” Eddie’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s completely forgot about the drug deal he came here for and plops himself back down at the picnic table. “Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

“…do you have anything maybe stronger?”

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matchingbatbites · 1 year

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Love Grows - Part 1

This is my take on teen dad Steve! It was just supposed to be a ficlet, but the word count is currently hovering at 4k and I'm not done, so this will be going up in parts. <3

Ao3 | Part 2

February '85

The rumors have been flying for weeks. It only took one cheerleader to see Steve Harrington out and about with a baby and soon enough the news was all over the school. Nevermind that no one else has even seen said baby, but just the one accusation is enough to send the rumor mill into production.

It's something that had piqued Eddie's interest, but he quickly attributed it to teenagers spreading drama, a fiction created for their own entertainment. That is, until the day Harrington shows up to school with the baby.

The halls are buzzing, more so than usual, and it only takes until second period for Eddie to realize why. The entire class breaks into whispers when Steve walks in with a baby carrier in one hand, a piece of paper in the other, and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. The paper goes to the teacher, who reads it before saying something to Steve, and Eddie is so curious but unable to hear anything over the chatter in the room.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve for the rest of the class. He watches as the carrier finds a home on the floor, right by Steve’s desk, and Eddie has a perfect view of the little, rosy-cheeked baby girl from his seat two rows behind Steve (at least, Eddie’s assuming it’s a girl. The blanket tucked around her is a soft pink, so-). He sees every time Steve leans over to check on her, sees how her big eyes flick up to look at him, how she smiles around the pacifier in her mouth.

It makes Eddie go all gooey inside; he's always loved kids, always hoped to find a guy who is good with them, and seeing Harrington being so attentive only increases the low-key crush he has on the other guy (he knows it’s a little pathetic, but Steve is very attractive, and Eddie is very gay, sue him). When the class ends, Eddie gathers his stuff slowly so he has an excuse to hang back a little and watch Steve interact with the baby some more, but soon enough the younger is also packed up and out the door.

Eddie doesn't see Steve again until later that day, when he's skipping out on 5th period and hears a baby crying as he passes by a closed classroom door. He peeks in through the window and sees Harrington pacing slowly while holding the baby against his shoulder, one arm supporting her from the bottom as his free hand rubs circles into her back.

For a moment Eddie thinks about walking on, about just leaving Steve alone as he comforts his wailing child, but the cries pull hard on Eddie's heartstrings and he finds himself opening the door and slipping inside.

"Everything okay?" he asks, and Steve looks up in surprise before his expression shifts into something unreadable.

"Yeah, we're fine. She's just extra fussy because she's teething. I came in here because I don't want to disturb anyone else."

Eddie hums and goes to the nearby diaper bag, starts digging through it and is surprised when Steve doesn't tell him to stop. He finds a little bottle of numbing gel and smears some onto his pinky before sliding it into the baby's still wailing mouth, and carefully rubs it over her gums as he coos at her.

"I know, honey, it hurts so bad. It's gonna be okay, though, just you wait."

He glances up to see Steve staring at him, his expression curious, and Eddie suddenly feels overexposed.

"My last neighbor had two jobs and three small kids, so I have a little experience with babies," Eddie explains, needing to fill the sudden silence that falls as the baby calms. His finger is still in her mouth, and he feels no desire to remove it, especially once she starts gnawing on it gently. Steve glances down at his girl before giving Eddie a soft smile, and Eddie's heart flips in his chest.

"That's more than I have, at least. Thanks."

"No worries, man. What, uh- what's her name?"

"Rosemary," Steve says, humming when the baby makes a soft noise. "At least, that's what I'm changing it to, as soon as I'm able."

The warmth that had settled in Eddie's stomach sours a little at Steve's declaration, and as he pulls his finger from the baby's mouth he can't help biting out "And her mom is okay with you changing her name?"

The atmosphere in the room changes as Steve's face crumbles, and Eddie knows he's said something wrong.

"Her mom didn't want anything to do with her," Steve replies softly, and oh no, Eddie instantly feels like a piece of shit. He'd heard the rumors that some girl had just dumped the baby on him, but he didn't think they were true.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean to assume anything."

"It's okay. No one really knows about the whole… situation."

There's an awkward pause before Eddie asks "So, Rosemary. Your choice wouldn't happen to be inspired by a certain Edison Lighthouse song, would it?" He smiles when Steve blushes, the pink dusting his face so sweetly as he shrugs.

"It was my grandma's favorite song, and a lot of my happy memories are with her, so... I've already started calling her Rosie, so she'll be used to it."

"It’s a good name," Eddie hums, rubbing his thumb over Rosie's tiny eyebrow. "She's a cute kid, Harrington."

Steve mutters a soft “Thanks,” and then there’s a brief pause before he asks "Do you- do you want to hold her?" and Eddie doesn't even hesitate before nodding and giving a quick “Yes!”

He takes off his jacket and vest in one go, knowing the fabric is a little rough, and takes the baby when Steve offers her to him. He holds her close, one hand supporting her and the other resting on her back, and starts to sway a little. "I haven't held a baby in like, two years. I forgot how calming it is." Steve hums and smiles as he sits on a nearby desk. “Yeah, it is.”

They spend the rest of the time just talking about whatever comes to mind, and it's really fucking nice. Eddie learns about the gaggle of kids Steve babysits ("They're all shitheads, but I love them, even when they're using me as a chauffeur.") and Eddie talks a little about his own friends, his band ("I mean being famous is the end goal, but it's also just fun to get together and be creative just for the sake of it, you know?") and before they know it, the bell is ringing to signal the end of the period.

Steve frowns, a cute pout that tugs on the corners of his mouth, and Eddie has to bite back a smile at the expression. He sets a now sleeping Rosie back into her carrier before shrugging on his jacket and vest, and hesitates for a moment.

"Listen, Harrington. I know that we don't really know each other, but I've seen firsthand how tough this single parent shit can be, so. If you ever need a hand, or need someone to watch her so you can get shit done, you can ask me, yeah? No worry, no judgment."

Steve blinks at him, big hazel eyes flicking between Eddie's like he's making an insight check against Eddie's words. He must like what he finds, because he smiles softly and says "Thanks, Munson."

And Eddie shrugs, and smiles in return. "Call me Eddie, man."

#aahhhhh I'm so excited to finally get this up #I've been wanting to do my own teen dad Steve #and I'm weak for the name Rosemary #teen dad steve #love grows #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #joey writes #I'll update this once the second part goes up #ill make a tag list for this one #just be sure to mention it in a reply or reblog! <3 #edit: now with part 2!#edit 2: now with ao3 link!

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eightfifteen · 1 year

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Will: I- I'm g-gay

Joyce, who watched half an hour worth of Halloween footage that's just Mike's face: *gasp*

#link to fic in reblogs #will byers #joyce byers #byler #mike wheeler #st #stranger things

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gnatryan · 6 months

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Story of Brave Knight Scourge and His Nemesis, Promise the Wizard

(read the fanfic on ao3 *bats eyelashes*)

#art post #fanart #original art #both bc this is my design lmao #prohibitedwish #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #scourge the knight and promise the wizard lmao #gonna link the fic in a reblog in a moment

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pink-concorde · 6 months

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In honor of spooky season: Fanart of @spacelattesao3’s amazing and intriguing modern AU Caldera: The City of Ghosts which has Katara as the spiritbender and Zuko as a friendly ghost spirit helping her.

Also including a version in which Zuko has his scar since he didn’t look like Zuko without it (despite him not having it as a spirit being accurate to the story):

#zutara #Pinks Art #Fanfic Art #♡ fanfic #fic link in the reblog #aged up zutara #as they are college aged in the fic #caldera city of ghosts #zutara fanfic #zutara fanfiction #zuko x katara #zuko the friendly ghost #༼ つ ╹◡╹ ༽つ

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flowercrowngods · 9 months

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written for @steddieas-shegoes as a follow-up to this "can you read the letter for me" post-breakup scene (@artaxlivs wrote a wonderful version over here for you to read!) cw: drug mention, OD mention

Steve's body doesn't quite feel like his own as he walks to the playground with his breath lodged firmly in his throat and his heart trying out an old beat that used to be familiar. It's struggling, though, and Steve tries not to think about it. The cold breeze of the night hits his face, making him shiver for more reasons than one.

He hasn't been to the playground for years now. It used to be their spot when they couldn't sleep, kept awake by nightmares and memories and the worst of scenarios. They would come here and sit on the swings, steal glances at each other and talk into the night air, pretending like the other wouldn't hear, and hoping that he would.

He first took Eddie's hand here, swinging as they were, and Eddie had chuckled through his tears, and then his smile hadn't left all night – nor did his hand.

Maybe it's a bad idea, meeting him here. After everything. But some part of him thinks that it might be what they need. If Eddie really is doing as badly as he said, if he really does need a break of several weeks, a tiny part in Steve (the part that would always put himself last as long as it means that the other person gets the tiniest bit of comfort) wants Eddie to have this.

Their little bubble. Or the memory of it at least.

Steve is shaking as he sits down on one of the swings, one of his hands wrapped around the cold chain, the other balled to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. He feels oddly tethered even as the world begins to sway this way and that, even as the breath lodged in his throat solidifies into a lump and he feels as though he's about to cry.

Maybe that, too, comes with the muscle memory of swinging.

He spends an odd second envisioning himself from twenty years ago, laughing and squealing with his friends as they tried to do a looping, and then jump right up into the sky above, see who got farthest.

It brings a smile to his face and a nostalgia to his heart that he hasn't felt in a while.

He feels like he hasn't felt anything in a while. And that he won't until Eddie will apologise. Until he will explain.

The steady squeak–squeak–squeak of the swing is almost eerie in the quiet of the night, but to Steve it brings a certain calm; a safety that he knows is treacherous, but he feels it tingling in his arms, because–

Eddie is there. Slow steps approaching, the gravel crunching underneath his feet that makes Steve want to look up, but, tightening his grip around the chain, he refuses.

I’m sorry for being too much and not enough at the same time.

He knows the letter by heart now, and he wants to see. He wants to see how much space Eddie will be ready to take now, how much he'll let himself be this time. It's unfair, he knows; Eddie's not fine, he should take a step towards him. And he is. He's here. He has agreed to meet with Eddie and hear him out. He has agreed to allow himself a chance at mending his own heart.

Steve feels so torn inside, in more ways than one, that he feels paralysed and petrified and frozen. Part of him wants nothing more than to leap up and take Eddie in his arms, tell him that they'll figure it out, that they can do it, that they can make it work. That second chances are just a thing that happen in life. That it doesn't have to be one and done.

That's another reason he won't look up. There are so many reasons.

"Hey," Eddie's voice cuts through his racing thoughts, though it sounds so gentle and fragile that Steve wonders if it's not Eddie who's been cut.

The steps have stopped, the gravel no longer crunching, and Steve can see a worn pair of Chuck Taylor's in his vision. Not Eddie's usual armour. It throws him off, makes him want to cry, makes him shiver in a way he can't blame on the breeze anymore.

"Thank you," he continues, sounding even more gentle, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, no longer wanting to hear that voice, not when it sounds like that. So bare. So raw. So vulnerable. "Can I sit with you?"

Steve swallows hard, and doesn't have to consider at all. He nods. Gravel crunches again, then twin chains squeak, the old wood creaking and groaning a little above them, but Steve knows it'll hold. It always does. While Steve is gently swaying, one foot anchored to the ground, Eddie remains impossibly still.

Maybe they're both about to break.

After a while, Eddie speaks up again with the words that Steve has been longing to hear for four years. "I'm sorry."

They're not nearly as satisfying as he always hoped. The world is still broken.

"Okay," he rasps, not really knowing what he's supposed to say. What Eddie wants from this. What he wants from this. If either of them still have the right to want things.

"I had this speech prepared," Eddie continues, still entirely still aside from the way his voice wavers, his laugh a bit breathless and bitter at himself. "But... I didn't... I didn't think you'd come, to be honest."

"Funny," Steve says before he can stop himself, cutting off the rest before it can leave his mouth and make it worse than it is. Coming from the one who left.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says again, and Steve is already tired of it.

So he says nothing, and his silence seems to mute Eddie.

"What does it mean?" he asks eventually, still not daring to look over at the man who used to hold his heart in his hands and then threw it down the quarry before leaving town without another word for four years. But he can feel Eddie's eyes on him. "That you're sorry, what– what does that mean."

"It means that I..." Eddie starts and trails off, considering his words in a way that makes Steve wish he wouldn't.

Just tell me. Take up space. Be enough. Be too much. Just tell me.

"It means that I wish I hadn't left, but that I know I had to in order to find out that living without you is not living at all. It means that I know that I broke your heart and your soul and your future, maybe, for this need of mine to just... find out. To run away. To be someone I could choose to be. And, God, it wasn't worth it. None of it. And still it happened, still I did it, still I know that I just... I had to do it. Being the person I was then, it... I just. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this. None of it. And if I could, I would turn back time and just tell you. Or sleep it off. Get help, talk with Wayne, anything. Anything that wouldn't lose me the... That wouldn't lose me you. And I'm sorry."

When Eddie finishes, his voice is hoarse, and Steve can't look away any longer. He opens his eyes and prepares to meet Eddie's beside him even in the dark of night, but he finds that Eddie is looking up instead, towards the sky where the moon is busy painting a cloud in silver light as it moves to cover it incrementally, and Steve takes a second to look back down at Eddie and watch him for a second.

His hands are clenched around the swing's chain, and they're shaking a little – so minutely that Steve's not sure if he's imagining it at all, but he feels like he knows Eddie enough to know that he's shaking, too. That they're in this together still. His thick leather boots are replaced with the worn, dark red Chuck Taylor's, and he's wearing a pair of jeans that aren't ripped at the knees. His black denim jacket is plain, no pins, no patches, no rips or tears or any sign of Eddie.

It leaves Steve feeling bereft, untethered once more; and isn't that unfair. It's not fair for Eddie to come here looking like this, looking so open and plain and vulnerable – how is Steve supposed to talk to him now. To talk at him, knowing his words will only meet armour. Armour that will make Eddie leave again.

How is he supposed to say anything when Eddie might not leave again. Or when he never came back in the first place?

"What happened to you?" he asks, the apology forgotten at this need to know. This need to protect, even after all these years. This need to be Steve and Eddie. If only just for the duration of a question.

Beide him, Eddie huffs and looks away from the now covered moon, meeting Steve's gaze with those big brown eyes that look so much bigger now. So much... sadder.

"I've spent all my life knowing who I didn't want to be. Knowing what to be against. Knowing what to hate. And then I– Then I met you. And I got to be someone for myself, you know? You let me be that. And I didn't see, I never... I never quite saw that, Stevie. Because that sad, scared, angry teenager part of me still wanted to hate and rebel and to leave and to be someone. And it didn't matter who, what kinda person, just... Just someone. So I left, and I– God, I lost myself. That self that you brought out. That self that wanted a life full of, like, love, y'know? Not hate. Not anger. Not... Not battle vest, leather armour, sticking it to the Man. But when I realised, it was too late."

"When did you?"

Eddie breathes out heavily. "Last year? Friend of mine OD-ed. Lou. Found her in the hotel, just..."

He breaks off, and Steve can see him blinking away tears just as he blinks away tears of his own.

"I called the band in this, like, full-on panic attack. Told them it was over. Told them I didn't want this anymore. They– They talked me down, because they're great guys. Helped me through it. All of it. Jeff told me to send the letter. Said, 'If you wanna find yourself again, Ed, you gotta start where you last had it, and you gotta start sending the letters.' Best fucking guy I know."

Eddie is smiling through the tears, telling all of this like it's not worth telling at all – like they're not both crying silent tears at it.

Like Steve's not understanding what he's saying. You made me into someone I liked being. and I did write to you, I just never sent them.

"You wrote me letters?"

Eddie nods. "All the fucking time. Wanted you there with me. Stayed sober for you until I... Until I couldn't anymore, because I'd left you, and I left this fucking swing set, and I... God, I'm so sorry, Steve." Eddie is really crying now, hands covering his face, and it's not really a decision at all when Steve gets up to stand between his legs, wrapping his arms around Eddie's shoulders and letting him cry into his chest.

Eddie wraps around him almost instantly, and Steve holds him, running his hands through his hair, shushing him gently, just allowing Eddie to cry for as long as he needs.

And I got to be someone for myself, you know? You let me be that.

You let me be that.

"I'm sorry," Eddie repeats, over and over, and Steve finds himself saying, "It's okay, Eddie, it's okay. I forgive you."

They stay like that for a while. Until Eddie calms down enough to breathe normally again, and even longer still before Steve slowly, gently pulls away – ready to move back in and hold him some more. Even though he shouldn't. Maybe.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," he says at last. "And I'm glad you're taking a break. Glad you sent that letter, too."

"Mm-hmm, me too."

Silence settles between them once more as Steve finds his way back to his swing; and that's when he starts thinking again.

"When you left, I was devastated. And I couldn't even tell anyone, not even Robin. It's like... It's like when you left, you took away that part of me, y'know? I didn't know how to talk about you. The words were gone, or something. And then you... You wrote your songs. And it was double unfair, because not only you get to leave, you also got to talk about it? To, like, thousands of people? I never... I still– it's.... It's like I still don't know how to talk about it. About you. Or to you. There are things I wanna say, but... You said them all, I guess. You got to say them."

"Steve," Eddie breathes, and he sounds just as devastated as Steve feels. "I never meant to– I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"No?"

"No! No, you... No."

Their eyes meet again, and Steve swallows hard again. "Tell me."

"What?"

"What you were gonna say. What you want to say."

Eddie breathes deeply and lets it all out in one long breath. "You didn't deserve that," he says at last. "You deserve someone who treats you right. Someone who lets you be who you want to be, too, and who will bring you flowers, and who will buy you an Winnebago and get you everything you could ever wish for. You deserve someone who's not broken, someone who'll do anything for you because they realise that you're everything they could ever dream of and more."

Steve sighs and feels frustrated again, because Eddie still doesn't get it, Eddie still puts him on that pedestal and made him out of reach for himself to the point where he had to leave because Steve was already gone for him.

"Eddie," he says, and his heart breaks a little when the other man flinches a little at his sharp tone. "I don't ask for that, I would never ask for that, God. I just... I just want a simple, sometimes complicated, sometimes dramatic but ultimately worth it life. I want a– a boyfriend who will say weird shit sometimes because he's a fucking nerd, and who will discover things about himself when he's with me, and go to bed with that smile that tells me he's safe with me. And happy. I don't want anyone throwing away anything, I don't need anyone giving me everything, I just..." I just want you.

But the words don't quite make it past his lips, too much history forcing them shut. It's been four years.

"I don't want to make you into someone. I don't want the weight of that, the responsibility that one wrong look could make someone's entire life fall in on itself. I just..." I just want you.

And that's when he realises what he's always sort of known. That Eddie doesn't even need to ask for a second chance for Steve to hand it to him on a silver platter.

He stands again and comes between Eddie's legs again.

"I forgive you. But I want to talk. About all of this. Not just tonight, but every night. I want to know how I can help you, I want to start over, I want it to be right this time. I don't want you to ever run away again. I want you to talk to me, Eddie. And to take me with you next time you need to run. Because you don't get to run from me, okay? You don't– You don't get to do that, Eddie Munson."

Eddie looks up at him, the moonlight catching on the tears in his eyes, making them look even bigger, and Steve wishes he wouldn't look so small.

"You– But... But I'm so... broken." His hands flail a little, an aborted motion that shows nothing of his usual energy.

Steve's hands find his way to Eddie's cheeks if only to stop him from running away again.

"And I'm not gonna fix you. But I can hold you through it, and stay right where you need me to. That's what people do when–" He cuts himself off before he can say it.

But Eddie understands anyway if the way his eyes widen even more, welling up against the moonlight, is any indication at all.

"Still?"

Steve nods, his thumb stroking Eddie's cheek tenderly, wiping away the fresh tears. "Still. All you had to do was come back."

Eddie falls forward, then, and buries his face in Steve's stomach. It's not running away. It's quite the opposite, actually, and Steve holds him as long as he can.

The night is filled with many more tears as four years of anger and sadness and lostness finally find words to express them.

It's dawn when he says goodbye to Eddie at Wayne's new trailer, waving at the man drinking his coffee on the porch. Eddie holds Steve in a tight embrace for a whole minute before either of them are ready to let go, and only with the promise of Same place, same time tonight.

It's not a new beginning yet, but it's the closure they both need before the new beginning will happen in due time.

#hi if anyone else has written a part 2 for this (in a separate post or a reblog) pls tell me so i can link it too! <3 #dio words #steddie fic #steddie #i may have cried a little writing this whoops idk i hope the emotions are there i'm not sure my words are back but this is the best i have #(and i don't hate it!!!)#not sure this makes a whole lot of sense tho??#all you had to do was come back <- that's just the kinda person i am you know

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happypeachsludgeflower · 7 days

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Does anyone else just love chaotic svsss identity reveals? It’s like a dopamine wild party every time I get to watch Cang Qiong Peak realize Shen Yuan’s a baby.

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skyward-floored · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 29: "What happened to me?"

Continuation to day 22 and 25 :)

Day 22

Day 25

Read on ao3

Warnings: mostly the same as the other ones, blood, injury, some violence, possession, a little creepy vibes

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Warriors is not one to hesitate.

As Time leaps forward to attack the demon (the boy?) and tentacles of pure darkness shoot out from the mask, Warriors is instantly in full battle mode, and begins shouting out orders.

The others snap out of their horrified dazes and go to help Time, dodging shadowy tentacles as thunder booms nearby. The rain begins to come down harder, and visibility grows more difficult, the only truly clear sights Warriors gets of the battle happening when lightning scatters across the sky.

But he doesn’t let it stop him, and Warriors finally locates his first target, grabbing Legend’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“You need to go see if you can find Ravio,” he says a bit breathlessly, dodging a tentacle that comes their way. “He must still be inside, Sheerow wouldn’t have led us here otherwise.”

Legend scowls. “Captain, I’m not going to leave—”

“He may be in trouble, and we don’t know if he has time for us to finish this battle,” Warriors says grimly. “Go find him, Vet. We can handle things for now.”

Legend hesitates, then nods, Sheerow appearing at his shoulder like he’d heard them talking. Legend turns and runs off, and Warriors watches him until he disappears with the little bird into the Eastern Palace.

Then he turns back to the battle, and joins the others in fighting the mask.

Time is fighting the body itself, and while the rest of them are trying to help him, the mask is surprisingly good at multitasking. It picked up a sword somewhere, and while it swings viciously at Time, dark tentacles sweep at the rest of them, keeping them away from the fight.

Time is in no condition to be fighting a demon, Warriors knows that for certain. Between the sleepless nights that have sapped him of energy, and the nightmares and revelations he’s had dropped on him, it’s a wonder he’s even standing.

But there’s strength in desperation. Warriors knows that well.

Wild jumps back from the fight and along with Four, begins firing arrows into the fray. Warriors is glad for the the cover as he dodges another attack. They’re starting to figure out the movements of the battle now, the different attacks up their enemy’s sleeve, and with the archers’ support, begin closing in on Time and the demon.

An arrow flies past Warriors’ shoulder, and someone suddenly screams, piercing and familiar. Warriors is already looking around for who got struck, but when he finally sees where the arrow landed, his brow furrows in confusion.

It’s sprouting from the shoulder of their enemy, but he could have sworn the voice that had screamed was—

“Don’t hurts the person behind the mask!”

At Twilight’s frantic cry, everything Warriors had been wondering and suspected falls neatly into place, and he stares at the body that’s wearing the mask, a cold feeling in his chest. The figure is taller then what he remembers, but the outfit is familiar, even through all the blood and shadows covering it.

Somehow, impossibly, there’s a version of Time under that mask.

The demon seems to have recovered quickly from the arrow in its arm, and it rips it out with a small cry. Then it cackles as it thrusts a tentacle of darkness at Time, nearly throwing him to the ground before he scrambles to dodge it.

“How are we supposed to fight him but not hit him?!” Wild shouts, and Twilight’s reply is drowned out by another roll of thunder.

“How do we know if he’s even alive under there?” Hyrule asks worriedly, swinging at a tentacle nearby, and Warriors looks back at Majora, a tight feeling in his chest.

How indeed.

“We need to get the mask off,” he says as he dodges an attack, “then we’ll... we’ll know. In the meantime, try not to hurt him.”

“Easier said then done,” Sky grunts nearby. “I don’t think he has the same qualms.”

Majora must hear them, for after they have the exchange it grows harder to fight, tentacles lashing, cries ringing out as several of them are knocked to the ground. It begins tearing up bricks from the ground and throwing them as well, and between the projectiles and their reluctance to hit him, the battle begins to turn back in the demon’s favor.

A tentacle lashes forward, and a cry rings out, Warriors turning just in time to see Hyrule hit the ground, hard.

He hears several cries, but can’t get to the traveler through all of the tentacles and projectiles thrown his way. Someone does finally get to Hyrule’s side, Warriors unable to tell who through the rain, and he slices at another tentacle as another shout rings out.

It’s Time’s voice again, but this time it’s not Majora who’s hurt.

Warriors watches as Time grabs at his side, a flash of red visible through the rain as he reels backwards. His heart speeds up, and he tries to fight over to Time’s side, slipping on puddles and avoiding tentacles. Someone else cries out yet again, and Warriors feels ice begin to freeze up his chest.

They’re losing this fight.

He’s still much too far to be of any use to Time, and as he tries desperately to reach him and help, Majora dodging and leaping around, Warriors sees Time’s face harden into a look he knows well.

His heart shoots up into his throat as Time’s hand slips into his pouch, and a white mask is pulled out.

“Sprite don’t!” Warriors shouts across the battlefield, but Time either doesn’t hear him or ignores the words entirely as he slams the mask onto his face.

A tentacle tries to knock Warriors to the ground while he’s distracted, nearly doing the same to him as had been done to Hyrule. And by the time he’s dealt with it and turns back, Time is no longer there, a god fighting in his place.

A high-pitched laugh rings around the area, and Majora leaps around the Fierce Deity’s attacks, moving so fast it’s hard to watch. Lightning flashes, but it’s nothing compared to the way the Deity’s eyes flash as he fights Majora.

Warriors finally makes it within striking distance of the two, but they’re moving so fast he can’t help at all. He waits for an opening, wiping rain out of his eyes and nervously twirling his sword, and as he watches, Majora dodges just the slightest bit too slow.

The Fierce Deity doesn’t hesitate.

He swings his huge sword, glowing an almost electric blue, and strikes the mask right off the boy’s face.

A horrible scream rings around the area, a mixture of the mask and the one who’d been wearing it, and the body topples to the ground, bloody and broken. Majora’s mask flies into the air, bleeding darkness as it turns to the Fierce Deity with its tentacles lashing, and it roars in outrage.

“YOU NEVER PLAY FAIR!” the mask screams, and the fight resumes, the two attacking each other with an increased ferocity.

Warriors doesn’t hesitate in sprinting towards the fallen body, shadows and blood seeping off of him in nearly equal amounts. He drags him away (he’s so light) as far as he can from where the Deity is now fighting the mask with no holds barred, and Warriors carefully flips the boy over, a quiet hitching sound coming from him.

He realizes it’s crying at the same time his eyes settle on the boy’s face.

The features that have been freed look so similar to Mask’s that Warriors startles, nearly forgetting what he’s doing. The face is older, though not by a whole lot, and the blood and injuries and tentacle marks all over him certainly change things. But the shape is there, a mix between the man Warriors knows now and the boy he met during the war, and he feels like he’s been gutted.

He can’t be older then Wild.

The rain puddled beneath the younger Time begin to turn red, and the hitching noises turn to gurgles as the shadows holding him together fade. Warriors shoves his scrambled thoughts aside, and shushes the boy as he pulls out a fairy.

“Hold on kid, hold on,” he murmurs, and the fairy dances over the boy’s rapidly stilling form. Sparkles mix with the rain, and Warriors watches in silence as the most grievous of the boy’s injuries are healed.

Twilight and Wind run up to his side as the fairy finishes, and the hitching sound starts up again, Wind staring at the body in horror.

“Merciful Ordona,” Twilight breathes, and carefully lifts the boy partially onto his lap, shushing him when he makes a noise. “Shh, you’re alright, you’re safe.”

The boy shudders where he’s laying, and Twilight pulls him into a tighter hold, rubbing small circles onto his back. His injuries are by no means completely healed, but they can’t do much for him here, rain pouring on their heads, screams still ringing out.

Screams?

Warriors turns, and sees the Fierce Deity with a foot on Majora’s mask, angry screams and jabbering coming from the demon. The Deity doesn’t hesitate, and plunges his glowing sword through the mask, one final scream ringing out.

Any tentacles left grow still, then fade away, darkness puddling on the ground much like the rain.

A louder hitching sound catches Warriors’ attention, and he turns back to the boy, his eyes flickering as Twilight holds him. He’s looking around with a terrified look in his eyes, tears smearing the blood on his face, and suddenly the Fierce Deity is kneeling beside him, a hand outstretched.

Warriors stiffens, a hand reaching for his sword.

But the Deity’s hand merely rests on the boy’s cheek, notably gently compared to the way he’d been fighting earlier. The younger Time whimpers, and turns into the hold, and Warriors releases his sword, though he keeps it in reach.

“Rest, little one,” the Deity says, surprisingly soft as a finger brushes some blood away. “Your part of this fight is done.”

The boy’s breath hitches again, but his eyes slip closed, and he stills as the Deity gently holds his cheek. Warriors frowns, but Twilight waves him off, gesturing to the boy’s chest going up and down. He’s merely unconscious.

The Deity waits a moment, still looking at the younger Time, then removes his hand and turns to face the three heroes around him.

“The demon is gone,” he says, rain pattering on his armor. “And the one who brought him back is not present. The danger has been eliminated.”

“Are you going to release Time now?” Warriors asks in a voice that’s more of a demand then a question.

The Deity tilts his head, then blinks, looking like he’s studying Warriors’ face.

“My role is finished. You need not worry for your leader.” His hand raises, but he pauses just before taking the mask off, and stares at Warriors with an intense gaze. “Watch out for him and the boy. The upcoming days will not be easy.”

Warriors blinks, but before he can reply, the Deity lifts off his face, and Time kneels where he once did.

He immediately flounders, and Warriors is there with an arm under his shoulder as he lowers him carefully to the ground. Time’s hand goes to his side, blood on his fingers, and Wind scoots over and hands him a potion.

The rain is steady, but the thunder is mostly past, rumbles coming from in the distance. The others slowly converge on where the rest of them kneel, Wild helping Hyrule walk over. One by one they turn to look at the bloodied teenager in Twilight’s lap, and Warriors looks uneasily at Time, the older hero rubbing his forehead.

He looks exhausted, even having drunk a potion, but his face is oddly emotionless as he looks at the younger version of himself. Warriors can feel him shaking where his arm is still slung over his shoulder, and he holds him a little tighter, just like he has been for the past month after he’d woken up screaming.

It was his death he was seeing after all, Warriors thinks as the rock in his stomach shifts. An alternate version, but...

“Is... is that really Time?” Wind asks him quietly, and Warriors looks at the older hero again.

Time doesn’t say anything, rain dripping off his hair.

“In a way,” Warriors says a bit uncertainly. “Do you remember what Legend was saying about Times nightmares, and the Fallen Hero?”

Wind looks confused, and then he pales, a quiet oh escaping his lips as he looks at the young Time again.

“This is him?” Hyrule says a little shakily, and Warriors swallows, nodding without a word. What can he even say?

Wind suddenly perks up, and looks behind them all, some of the light coming back to his eyes.

“Hey look, it’s Ravio!”

Warriors turns and sees Legend exiting the palace with Ravio’s arm slung over his shoulder, the merchant barely able to walk even with his assistance. Wind runs over to help, and Warriors worriedly takes in Ravio’s battered appearance as they approach, though the merchant gives them all a bleary smile.

“Can always count on Mr. Hero,” he says in a shaking voice. “N-never let me down yet.”

“You certainly don’t make it easy,” Legend mutters, though there’s a fondness in his voice. His eyes seem red as well, but nobody mentions it as they look back at the boy in Twilight’s arms.

Legend takes in the sight of him, an unreadable look in his eyes, and then he looks around at the rest of them, soaking wet, exhausted and injured.

He sighs.

“Come on. Let’s head back to my house.”

(...)

It’s more then two days before he wakes up.

They all head back to Legend’s house, wounded in tow, and once they arrive, everyone is properly fussed over. Potions are handed out, bandages wrapped, wet clothes peeled off and set to dry by the fire Legend gets going.

The younger Time is placed in his bed once they heal and bandage him as much as they can, and they carefully coax the story of what happened from Ravio, the merchant still shaky and pale.

He recounts the exact events of Time’s longer dream, Legend sitting beside him the entire time, and when he finishes, Time stands up and leaves the room.

Warriors doesn’t follow. Time needs time to process everything.

Warriors knows he does.

After they’ve all sufficiently rested from... everything, and while they wait for the younger Time to wake, they help Legend clean up his house. It’s something to do, but it doesn’t dispel the strange mood over them all.

There’s relief, that Ravio and everyone else is okay and that Time finally has an uninterrupted night’s sleep, but worry too, since barely anyone got out of the fight without at least a few scratches, and the implications of the enemy they’d fought, and the boy they saved that still hasn’t woken up.

Warriors watches him that first night, his bangs partially obscuring the marks they’d discovered after cleaning him up. They’re from Majora of course, but Warriors hopes they’ll fade, for the boy’s sake at least.

He deserves to not have a reminder of what happened on his face.

He isn’t the only one in the room after another day of cleaning, on the second night they’re there. Though most of the Links are asleep, either on the floor or in chairs, snores drifting across the room. Not everyone is asleep though, and Warriors tries not to stare at where Time is seated by the bed, not quite within arm’s reach.

Twilight is beside him, much closer to the bed, and they keep watch over the sleeping boy, still as ever.

The younger Time suddenly whimpers in his sleep, and before Warriors can move, Twilight runs a hand along his hair, carefully avoiding the bandages by his cheek. The boy stills, and Twilight leans back again, looking at his ancestor with an aching look in his eyes.

“Time,” he asks quietly, the words loud in the silence of the room. “How old is he?”

Time is silent for a long time, and Warriors almost wonders if he’s not going to answer the question.

“Physically... around sixteen,” he says finally, voice not more than a rasp. “Maybe seventeen. I’ve never known exactly how old I was.”

“...mentally?” Twilight asks.

Time closes his eye, and Warriors sees him swallow

“About nine,” he whispers.

Warriors feels like he’s been kicked in the chest, and Twilight looks the same, both of them turning to stare back at the boy lying on bed.

Nine.

The boy lying next to them, that had fought Ganon and been killed, setting off Legend and Hyrule’s entire timeline, and then been brought back to life and possessed by Majora and nearly died again due to the Shadow’s meddling was nine years old.

Mask had been eleven.

“Nine?” Twilight chokes out, and Time looks away, shaking his head.

Neither of them know what to say, but Warriors sees how Time’s shoulders curl in, how his eyebrows lower, that same haunted look coming back into his eye. Warriors stands up, making them both look over, then walks over to Time and pulls him into his arms.

He’s not usually one to initiate hugs of all things, but it’s all he feels like he can do.

“I’m so sorry,” Warriors says in his shoulder, and Time seems like he doesn’t know what to do, arms held rigidly at his sides.

“It’s hardly your fault,” he says in a strained voice, and Warriors holds him tighter.

“I know. But I have a feeling you never got an apology.”

Time stares, and then he crumples in Warriors’ arms.

A shaking breath escapes him, and Twilight leans over to put an arm around him as well, Warriors sitting to better out his arms around him.

They hold him in silence as he begins to cry, then sob, and if any of the others wake up from the noise, they don’t say a word.

(...)

The younger Time finally wakes up the next day, when it’s just Warriors, Wind, and Legend in the room.

They’d brought a pile of maps in to sort out and reorganize, figure out which are still useable. One minute Warriors is wondering exactly how many dungeons Legend has gone through, and the next, Wind jumps, staring over at the bed.

Two blue eyes are staring at the three of them, wide and confused-looking.

“He’s awake!” Wind gasps, but Legend puts a hand on his arm, stopping him from running over.

Warriors calmly gets to his feet and goes to his bedside, the blue eyes following him the entire way. He sits down, and gives the boy a careful smile.

“Good morning, Link. We weren’t sure quite when you were going to wake up,” he says kindly.

Link stares at him still, and Warriors grabs the cup of water they’ve kept at the bedside table for this very moment.

“I’m sure you’re thirsty, would you like some water?” he asks gently, and Link nods, zeroing in on the cup with a hungry look. Legend and Wind finally come over, and they help him sit up, the borrowed tunic slipping over one of his shoulders.

Warriors hands him the cup, and though it takes him a few tries, Link manages to hold the cup and drink by himself, eagerly draining the entire thing.

“We’ll get Wild to make you some food too, I’m sure you’re hungry,” Wind says with a smile, and Link swallows, finishing the water.

“Where... what happened?” he asks, looking down at himself, eyes going wide at the bandages, and Warriors and Legend exchange looks.

“...Maybe you’d better see for yourself,” Legend says, and grabs a hand mirror from a table nearby. Warriors raises an eyebrow, and Legend rolls his eyes. “It’s not magic, it’s a regular mirror.”

That hadn’t been what Warriors was raising his brow at, though the assurance is nice.

Legend hands it over to Link, and he stares, taking in the bandages and pale color of his face, and especially the markings that are still visible on his skin. He raises a hand, and stares at that as well, looking at the bandages wrapped over his wrist.

“Wh... what happened to me?” he asks in a small voice, running a shaky hand along the lines on his face.

Something flashes across his face, and he sets down the mirror, pulling up his tunic with a shaking hand. Link stares at the bandages covering the worst of the injuries across his middle, and places a hand on his stomach.

He suddenly freezes, eyes going even wider, and Warriors immediately recognizes the look of someone remembering.

“I died,” he says in a small voice, and Warriors breathes out, then nods.

“You did,” he agrees quietly. “But you’re not dead anymore, Link. You’re safe.”

“I... I wasn’t,” Link continues, and puts his hand back on the marks on his face with a shaken look. “There was... was something in my head. I remember, I was fighting, I fought really hard but it wouldn’t let me go, and it hurt and I wanted to be dead again but...”

He looks at Warriors, face pale and eyes watering.

“Y-you all saved me.”

“We did,” Wind says confidently, and pats Link’s hand with a smile. “We got rid of Majora. Time split the mask in two while pieces, there’s no coming back from that.”

Link lets out a strange noise, his breathing speeding up, and Warriors takes his hands in his. He holds them steady, feeling the way they’re shaking, and waits until Link looks up and meets his eyes.

“He’s gone, Link. You’re safe, and you’re alive,” Warriors says softly.

Link’s lip trembles, and suddenly his face is pressed against Warriors’ shoulder, quiet cries coming from him. Warriors puts his arms around him, and runs a hand through his hair, suddenly seeing so many similarities to Mask and Time that it makes his heart feel like it’s going to break in two.

“Thank you,” Link chokes out, and Warriors holds him a little tighter as his breath hitches. “Th-thank you, I—”

His words break off into a hiccup, and Wind can’t take it anymore and jumps up to hug him as well. Legend puts a bracing hand on his shoulder, something heavy in his gaze, and Warriors realizes that the others have come into the room, likely brought by the sounds of Link’s cries.

They don’t intrude on the hug, but they stay close, and Warriors meets Time’s eye for a split second before he looks away.

“Shh, you’re okay Sprite,” Warriors says softly, and despite the fact that the boy he’s holding can’t have heard the nickname before, he relaxes slightly at it. “You’re safe.”

He holds him a little tighter, and doesn’t direct his next words solely at the boy in his arms, but rather the one he knows is also trying not to cry only a few feet away.

“It’ll be okay.”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu time #lu warriors #lu chain #all the links #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #fic #day 29 #what happened to me?#writing from the floor #*grumbly noises* I wanted to make the ending longer but this already took way too long #I don't know how i feel about this #but I hope you all like it #I even put in some fierce dadity so maybe people will reblog it for that #also LOOOOOOK IT'S THE ONE THAT DUMB WIP WITH LIKE 400 NOTES IS FROM

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