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littlebosleepmusings · 2 years

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Somebody's Watching Me - Chapter Two

On the Edge

Wanda leads you down the red line.

MASTERLIST

9:00 PM

All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for the daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere

You and Wanda walk side by side along the tracks of a New York subway station. For the time being, no words are said between you, but you’re perfectly fine with it. Sure, your friendship is still new, but Wanda feels like someone you’ve known your whole life. Talks with her are always easy, and the silence is never awkward. It’s more of a peaceful quiet that you share together. Not something you need to force to fill.

Sure, you’ve got your other friends. Thor, Steve, Monica, Maria, Tony, Sam and company, but those always felt like Nat’s friends. People you’ve met through her or because of her. This time around, it feels nice to have someone of your own. Someone you don’t need to share. It’s nice to feel chosen, not because you have friends in common, but because someone actually enjoys your company.

You both come to a halt, as you spot the train light coming from up ahead. You angle yourself out of the way for the people passing behind you. Small crowds of bodies are to both sides of you.

Everything is fine, until you feel a particularly heavy stare on the right side of your face. It’s deliberate and razor focused. You try not to pay it any attention, but there’s there’s this gnawing feeling on the back of your neck, that won’t go away. Not until you force yourself to look.

So you stop fighting it and turn to face the random man. All the while, he keeps staring at you like there’s something wrong with you.

Finally, he speaks.

“This is not a dream,” he says to you. He doesn’t sound like a person at first, so you aren’t even sure you heard him correctly.

“What?” you ask him.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being yanked backward. The point of your high heeled shoes wobble, as you try to replant your feet.

“That’s a bit close," she says, as she releases your arm. It’s Wanda standing beside you now. Or maybe it was always Wanda.

You take in her face, like it’s the first time you’re seeing her. She looks beautiful, but tired. Then you look down, noting how close you were standing on the yellow designated line. An embarrassed giggle escapes your lips, but Wanda doesn’t look amused.

“Yeah. Sorry Wanda. Just-” She doesn’t let you finish.

“It’s fine.”

Right on cue, the train quickly whirs past, cutting off the rest of the conversation.

And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I'm dying Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you I find it hard to take When people run in circles it's a very, very

Mad world, mad world Mad world, mad world

Both of you step onto the train in silence. Wanda still looks visibly uncomfortable. Then, she turns to you.

“First time out of the house in a while, I bet.”

“Pretty much.”

Wanda turns to the map hanging high on the wall. She stares at it for a few moments, before turning back to you. “We get off on 18th Street, right?”

“Yeah. That’s the one.” You turn to her again. “You’re a good friend, Wanda. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like you’re real."

“I’m real,” Wanda smiles back.

After group, when Wanda admitted to having a tough time, you were reluctant to leave her. When she heard you were headed to meet some friends after the meeting, she offered to escort you there instead. It isn’t more than thirty minutes away by train. She waited at the centre while you got changed into a nice red dress and some heels that you stored in your handbag. You even invited her along as a spur of the moment thing, but she politely declined.

Currently, you’ve exited the station and are walking down a city side street. The chilly late October air hits you like Winter. Or maybe you’ve been underground too long.

“Thanks again for letting me tag along for a bit," she continues. “It’s just ...you think you know someone and what they’re capable of, and then you realize just how wrong you were. It’s like a stab to the gut.”

Wanda is continuing her personal tale about her past relationship troubles.

“I don’t want to go back to that,” Wanda muses. “I don’t want to be second guessing every single thing I do.”

Looking at her, tugs at your heartstrings a bit. You’re reminded of why she likely offered to join you in the first place.

“Remember to call me if you feel like you might do something drastic,” you tell her.

“I will," Wanda promises.

Suddenly, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Sorry. I gotta take this,” you reach into your coat for you phone.

“Go ahead.”

Jane texted and called you again, but you missed it both times. never checked for more until now. First time being before you headed underground. Her last message reads, “are you close?” Maybe she meant to text that to Thor.

You let out a small sigh, once you don’t see her name. Only Natasha’s. You stand off to the side and take the call, while Wanda stops to wait beside you.

“Hi, Nat. Yeah, almost there.” you smile, knowing exactly what she plans to ask you.

“Are you close? I’m impatient.”

“Super close.”

“Great. I won’t keep you then. Da skorava.”

“Later.”

Once you hang up, Wanda speaks. “Was this someone else calling you? You seem almost relieved.”

“Yeah, I thought it might be my friend, Jane. Truth is, I’ve been avoiding her. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell her, but I can’t bring myself to. Maybe it’s not my place, all things considered.”

“Does it involve her?”

“Yes…but someone else too,” you admit.

“Where exactly is your place in all this?” Wanda questions.

“Just unfortunately caught in the middle.” You dread thinking about all the things you’ve been keeping to yourself lately.

“That’s never a fun place to be.”

You finally reach the entrance of the luxury club, taking in the luckily small line of people waiting out side it. Still, you let out a soft groan. You know you should have no problem getting through due to friends in high places, but the thought of being turned away, still scares you.

“Thanks for travelling with me, Wanda.” You turn back to her. You already asked her once, but feel like you should again. Just in case. “Are you absolutely sure you don't want to come in? I’m sure Thor’s celebrity will allow for a plus one.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Wanda waves you off. “I’ll just wait for my Uber right here.”

“I’ll wait with you,” you offer.

“There’s no need.” She takes out her cell, and makes a few taps, but at a certain point, she looks confused.

“Need help?”

She hands you her mobile, with a rueful smile. “I usually walk or take the train most places. My brother is the one who usually helps with the apps and whatnot. He’s more of the tech person in our family.”

“You have a brother?” You question, while mindlessly opening the app for her, and waiting for the screen to load. Wanda never mentioned him before. You wonder what his thoughts are about Wanda’s…situation.

“Yeah, a twin,” she specifies.

You nod your head, quietly shrugging off the new information you just learned. “It’s simple. Just type the location you want to go to…”

“23 Spector Lane.”

You type it in and tilt the screen to show her. “It shows you price options and how long it’ll take. All you have to do is hit confirm.”

Wanda nods her head in understanding, so you hand the phone back to her. You watch as she taps the button herself.

“On it’s way.”

“I can wait with you while they get here,” you offer.

Wanda shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside even just for a bit? I’m sure Steve won’t mind another guest. I also kind of want you to meet my friends.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. Plus, I’m not even dressed for it,” she says, gesturing to her outfit. She’s sporting a thin grey coat, jeans, and a beanie.

“No one will care,” you try to persuade her.

Wanda just shakes her head. “Plus, I have stuff to take care of. It’s sweet of you to offer. It really is. Next time,” Wanda says with assurance.

“Alright. Next time,” you agree, choosing to respect her wishes. You plan to hold her to her promise.

She waves you off and regretfully, you head for the door to join the lineup.

When it’s your turn, you tell the bouncer you name, showing your him your ID. He barely glances at it, and is telling you to step inside within seconds. You turn to find Wanda standing by her lonesome on the curb. You don’t like leaving her to wait alone, but with the small crowd outside, you feel a bit better about it.

Instead of searching for the VIP area, you make a turn toward the washrooms. You take out your cellphone and dial.

“Hello?”

You hear shuffling in the background, before it gets quiet again.

“Bad time?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

“So I’m here,” you say with an airy sigh. “Any chance of you getting a cab and meeting me for emotional support?”

“That’s definitely not happening,” the male voice on the other end speaks. “Is this really why you called?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I thought you said it was okay to call you after hours, if I ever had an emergency…”

Stephen lets out a heavy sigh. “Not for this and I said emergencies. You’re meeting your friends, not members of Al Qaeda,” he states. “They’ll be glad to have you back.”

“Then why am I panicking so much?” You place a sweaty palm to your forehead, delicately as to not smudge your makeup. “I did a beeline straight to the washrooms, instead of going to find my friends. What’s wrong with me?”

“You only think you need support to do this, but you don’t, and you definitely don’t need me,” Stephen reminds you.

You’re good as staying quiet as he gives you one of his pep talks. He’s always had a way with words that calmed you down whenever you would freak out in sessions. It also helps that his voice is soothing.

Stephen continues. “Your trauma may have changed how you react to things, but not who you are as a person. They’d never see you any different, but we've talked about that already haven’t we?”

You find yourself absentmindedly nodding along, and forget he can’t see your response.

“These are you friends and you care about them, correct?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer out loud.

“So there should be nothing to be afraid of.”

You’re still hesitant, but deep down, you know Stephen is right. These are your friends. They’ve been with you through a lot. Not everything, but enough. Why would things be weird now?

Now you feel stupid for even bothering to worry about all of this. “You probably think I’m being pathetic right now.”

“I could never think you’re pathetic.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly, you mouth upturns into a slightly devilish grin. “I still think it would fun if you did show up.”

“And I think, I’m starting to regret giving you my personal number.”

“Wow,” is the only response you can muster. Your cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling.

“You can do this. I have faith in you.”

It’s such a generic response, but for some reason, hearing it from Stephen, you actually believe it. Maybe because he’s so deliberate with his words and never says things he doesn’t mean.

Stephen says your name after you’re quiet for some time.

“Yes?”

“Have some fun tonight. Please. You’ll be glad you did.”

You take a deep breath. “I will try. Thanks.” You pause as you hesitate on what to call him. Dr. Strange or Stephen. You end up choosing neither. “Have a good night,” you add.

“You too.”

After putting away your phone, you look down at your trembling hands and force them into fists. You don’t know why, but you’ve always done it to calm yourself.

You take a final deep breath, as you exit the Ladies Room and venture deeper into the club.

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#avengers x reader #avengers x you #the avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers au #wanda maximoff #stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #tags are wonky #reblog and like masterlist to keep #Youtube

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flowercrowngods · 2 months

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something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind.

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually.

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch.

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion.

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset.

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up.

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?”

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him.

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now.

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom.

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now.

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now.

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic."

No.

"You know you are."

Shut up. Go away.

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way.

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him.

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always.

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore.

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck.

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice.

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

——

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes.

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up.

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes.

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open.

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched.

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it.

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers.

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking.

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening.

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling.

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?”

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…”

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs.

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already.

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch.

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently.

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual.

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness.

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two.

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move.

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either.

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room.

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next.

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be.

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons.

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not.

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room.

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly.

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?"

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods.

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand.

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?"

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe.

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand.

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night.

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation.

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself.

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay.

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too.

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough.

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety.

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?"

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time.

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?"

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours.

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #kas eddie munson #kas takes care of steve fic #this part is downright short for me lmao #dio words #something so monstrous #i have a lot of things to say about pain and monstrosity but instead i just juxtapose them with an actual monster #and then bend the understanding of humanity around that instead #if the tag list doesn't work pls lmk some of these tags be looking wonky on mobile #the end of this is super rushed but 1) steve is still disoriented n weak 2) the mortifying ordeal of having been taken care of must be fled #3) too many thoughts too many realisations and things rearranging overwritten by the need to leave #so pls know it’s intentional and real life is abrasive like that sometimes hdhdh

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