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afewproblems · 1 year

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'Harring' flashes on the caller ID again, illuminated in bright green on the handheld phone in their kitchen.

It's the third time they've called today and Steve is anxious.

He hasn't heard from his parents in the last six years since he cut off all contact with them, so to see their name come up so many times all in the span of an afternoon is...well it's worrisome to say the least.

"Are you going to pick up," Eddie says as he comes up behind Steve, he drapes himself over his lovers back and nuzzles into his ear.

Steve smiles tightly and breathes out, "I don't know".

He turns in Eddie's arms to face him and brings his own arms around Eddie's lower back, holding him loosely.

"It's weird, right?" Steve says softly, "what do they want?" He slides his nose up and down Eddie's own before tipping his face up to his the tip of it.

Eddie hums, "well you won't know unless you answer love," he answers Steve's kiss with one of his own, soft against his lips, "if they call again, maybe pick up?"

Steve nods and flinches as the ringer starts up again behind them.

He breathes in deeply through his nose and out slowly through his mouth, Eddie brings up a hand to cup Steve's jaw and slides his thumb over his cheekbone.

"You got this," Eddie whispers, "if they say something shitty, just hang up, fuck em".

Steve nods and whirls around to snatch the phone off the console, he bites his lip for just a moment before saying a quiet, "Hello?"

"Steven?" A soft voice cracks wetly over the speaker and a sudden chill spreads over Steve's back.

"Mom?"

"Steven, honey," Diane Harrington says softly in a tone he's never heard before, "I need you to come home".

Steve turns around, Eddie is leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, Steve feels his face contort with confusion which Eddie answers with a tilt of his head, "what? Mom, no--"

"Steven honey, this is important--"

"No offense," Steve intejects harshly, he's gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaks under his fingers. Eddie's concerned gaze has him releasing the phone from his death grip in a matter of seconds, but it's hard. He's right back there, nineteen years old again, in a screaming match with his dad in the living room, a red handprint blooms over his jaw as he tells Robert Harrington to, 'go fuck himself,' one last time.

"But, you don't get to do this, it's been years mom so forgive me if--"

"Steven, I'm, I'm sick".

Steve stops, his mouth opens and closes as his mother chokes on a broken sob, it comes through tinny and harsh over the speaker.

She tells him of the diagnosis, some form of leukemia, how it's spread much more rapidly than the doctors anticipated, how she refused treatment.

"I'm not going to spend the rest of my time in a hospital with no hair in one of those godawful hospital beds if I can help it Steven".

They talk for awhile, or really Mrs. Harrington talks for another half hour while Steve stands there silently with the phone in his hands. He nods every now and again but the movements are stiff, Eddie paces around the living room, stopping in front of Steve's eyeline every now and again.

"Okay," Steve finally says, his voice cracks just slightly enough to make Eddie cross the living room towards him.

"Mom...I don't know what you expect me to do?"

"Baby?" Eddie whispers, he stands just off to the side trying to catch Steve's eye.

"No, no--no! Mom, I thought I stopped being a Harrington a long time ago, right?" Steve snarls into the receiver, "you had so many opportunities to tell Dad he was wrong but you just sat there, what else am I supposed to think except that you agree with him?"

"Baby, just hang up--"

"Mom, Ma' you have to stop, I'm not coming back, I'm so-".

His mouth snaps shut and a deep flush begins to rise up his neck and over his cheeks, his eyes glassy.

"I'm sorry you're sick, but I'm not coming back, Goodluck".

Steve removes the phone from his ear, little snippets of words and crying trickle through over the speaker as Steve places the handset back on the dock.

"Baby," Eddie tries again, he reaches out tentatively, slowly letting his hands smooth over Steve's arms at the shoulder.

Steve shakes his head, his jaw clenched as his face crumples, he lets Eddie pull him into his chest and tucks his head into the juncture of Eddie's neck and shoulder.

Steve feels Eddie bring them slowly to the floor as he tries to slow down his breathing.

"I'm so sorry baby," Eddie whispers, pillowing his check onto Steve's head, he nuzzles the fluffy hair just once and squeezes Steve tighter.

"I don't, I just, where was this when she was healthy, it's..." Steve takes a deep breath, "why now, and she's not even sorry --neither of them are," he whispers into Eddies collarbone.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, he stays quiet, listening to Steve's breathing stop and start.

"I don't want her to be sick, but I just," he sniffles, "it's not fair, I'm so angry with her, with them both --its like they get a pass for being so shitty for so long--"

"No, no they don't, not if you don't want to," Eddie says, the words are soft but the tone firm, "you don't have to give them anything you don't want to".

"But--"

"Steve," Eddie pulls back just enough for Steve to raise his head, he lifts his hand to cup Steve's cheek, "it doesn't make you a bad person to not want to see her, to see them".

Steve starts to shake his head but Eddie's hand remains steady on his cheek.

"Do you want to see her?" He asks after a beat.

"I, I don't know," Steve pulls his lower lip into his mouth and chews the corner of it until he tastes copper, "I don't..."

Eddie tilts his head and sweeps his thumb across Steve's cheek in encouragement.

"I don't want my mom to die, I want her to want to fucking fight for herself, for me --she's just giving up again, she's just deciding to quit without even trying to be my mom," he chokes out, his voice breaks as tears finally spill down his cheeks.

"I'm not, I'm not explaining it right," Steve bites out, raising his hands to grind harshly into his eyes, "I don't want to forgive her, but I, I think I would if she would just try, I don't know what to do," he trails off as his voice wobbles and wanes, he breathes out harshly and lowers his face back into Eddies neck.

"Okay," Eddie whispers into Steve's hair as he brings Steve closer, bundling him up in his arms, "you don't have to know what to do or how to feel, especially not right now".

Eddie squeezes Steve once more before shifting to his knees to stand. He hoists Steve to his feet and leads him to the kitchen before depositing him in a kitchen table chair.

Eddie busies himself at the stove, moving the half full kettle from the far burner to the largest left coils, he flicks the element on and lowers the whistle back to alert him when the water boils.

"Did I ever tell you how I handled my mom's funeral?" Eddie asks, banishing the quiet from the room and almost startling Steve.

"I yelled at the casket," Eddie says with an air of non-chalance that does not match the words. He grabs two mugs from the cupboard before grabbing a box of tea from the pantry. He leaves the prepped cups on the counter before turning back around to face Steve.

"It was open, shouldn'ta' been," he continues with a shake of his head, "rural town, mortician wasn't used to working on overdoses so, they couldn't quite cover up the purple".

Steve reaches for Eddie's hands as he comes back to the table, in three slow strides. He smiles but a long sigh escapes Eddie as he sits in the chair next to Steve.

"I was thirteen, and I was so, so mad at her for leaving me," Eddie murmurs, "I couldn't help it, Uncle Wayne had to take me home before it was even over".

Eddie raises his head to meet Steve's eyes, "I felt like shit after though, probably cried all night once we got home".

"Im going to tell you what Wayne told me," Eddie says softly, he scoots to the edge of his seat, until his knees are brushing Steve's own.

"When you lose someone that made your life hard, you grieve more than just that person, you also grieve all that lost potential, everything you didn't have with that person," Eddie squeezes Steves hands once more before gently letting them go. He stands up as the kettle begins to squeal from the stove.

"Everything they never gave you and the possibility that they could change, it's like--like that physics guy," Eddie laughs, waving his hands at Steve's confused expression, "you know the one with the cat?"

Steve shakes his head, a small watery smile begins to bloom over his face as Eddie continues to make their tea and explain.

"You'll never know if they could have been better to you because they died, so they both are and aren't a good parent simultaneously," Eddie says, linking his fingers together, "shit, I bet Dustin could explain this better".

He walks their filled mugs over to the table and takes his seat again

"I dunno about that Eds," Steve mumbles as he wipes his eyes, "when did you get so wise?"

"'All Wayne sweetheart," Eddie hums with a soft grin that pulls at the corners of his eyes, he reaches out to wipe a stray tear from Steve's cheek, "don't tell him though, he doesn't need the ego boost".

Steve barks out a laugh, before Eddie pulls him into another tight hug, "so, you don't have to know how you feel right now, okay?"

"Okay".

Steve isn't sure how long they stay like that, but by the time Eddie let's go, their tea has gone cold.

#thank you fic #some angst #but also comfort #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington has bad parents #cw cancer #cw overdose #we love a protective and wise uncle wayne in this house #eddie also gives good advice but thinks hes bad at it #steve whump #thank you for the 500 follows everyone #angst as a thank you fic? its more likely thank you think

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yuri-is-online · 7 months

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Masquerade request with number 5 for Jamil (tho not sure he'd be shy, more like reticent, potentially) aand since I can ask for two others I guess I might as well go for Azul and Deuce who kinda seem like suitable sorts for this prompt.

Ty!

-viperwhispered

5. You know it's him and he knows it's you, but you're both a bit too shy to admit you would like to keep holding onto each other when the masks come off, so you'll just stay here together a little longer.

Completely agree that Jamil wouldn't be shy in this scenario, more like a prisoner of his own self destructive tendencies. Also hello! I'm always really happy to see you in my notifications Whisper <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> Your comments are always very much appreciated.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is mildly angsty and I am uncertain if I have provided any comfort here. Uhh unrequited requited love, everyone here is a pining idiot, Deuce is bro zoning himself. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Jamil

He is unprepared for what it feels like to hold you.

It's one thing to look at someone, another to think of them, but both keep a level of imagination to the interaction. Jamil doesn't have the risk of failure in his imagination; he can comfort himself in his perceived superiority and not actually make the effort. There is no warmth in those thoughts, no weight, no you, nothing resembling the delicate weight in his arms that he finds himself wanting to-

"Are you alright?" You ask softly, bringing some focus back to Jamil's eyes, he smiles at you and you wish you could be certain that he really means it.

"I'm just... unused to this." Jamil chooses his words carefully. He does not expect you to know it's him, but there's always the chance someone else does. It makes him feel sick to think the small sigh of relief you give could be meant for someone else, his mind has a ready supply of suspects, but tonight is supposed to be for strangers to play act at romance. He is... allowed... to want this. "I am not that interesting of a guy, you know?"

"I'm sure you're plenty interesting." You say and Jamil swallows to steady himself, trying to remind the spiraling fractions of his mind that you are saying this to a stranger. You would, you have very likely, said this to anyone who needed the encouragement. "If you let yourself go I am sure you will find there's a person underneath the act." But would it be one you approve of? And why is he worrying over that when everyone should approve of him anyway, especially considering what middling results his classmates are barely capable of?

"Your compliments aren't necessary." His smile says otherwise but you cannot bring yourself to push it least you push Jamil away. "But if you wish to keep them coming I will not stop you." You wind your arms around him to pull Jamil just a bit closer. If only he could read your mind as well as command it, if only he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

"Are you sure you can withstand it?" No he's not. "Because I could go on for quite some time." You are clearly teasing him. Jamil's heart should be used to stress, it's been working overtime since he was first sworn over to Kalim, but he's not. There's something new about this stress, or maybe it isn't stress at all and that's just what he's labeling it because that's what he is used to feeling.

"I can take anything." Jamil certainly projects something like confidence, but even as the other guests begin removing their masks his stays firmly put. In both senses you suppose, unable to keep a bitter sigh from escaping you.

But you say nothing, choosing to simply squeeze his hand and hope that he will somehow inhale the meaning of your movements with the sharp breath he takes.

You can want this, please say you want this, please say you want me and give me a reason to stay.

But he can't in good conscious. He is bound by a duty he wishes upon no one, he refuses to ask properly. Just what it is Jamil wants of you needs to be asked for in freedom. So once again you slip away into the night alone with his hand reaching out towards you just out of sight.

Azul

"You have a strong grip." Your voice is muffled as the gentle, but strong hand at the back of your head keeps you firmly resting on this handsome "stranger's" shoulder.

Azul appears to be under the impression this will be easier on him if he cannot see you, but he seems to have forgotten he still can look down the expanse of your back when he holds you this close. What you're doing can barely be described as dancing, swaying is what people might call it but Azul barely registers that he is moving.

"Of course I do." His voice lacks the usual musical performance you associate with it, he sounds almost... tired. Overwhelmed, you decide is the more accurate term as you exhale into his neck and try not to savor the way he shudders. "To keep precious things close is what any pirate would do, hm?" You smile.

"Fancy yourself a heart thief? I would think that's a more Heartslabyul gig." He stiffens, you know he was just trying to make a jest at the appearance of his costume but you appear to have touched some sort of nerve. Azul pulls you closer, arm wrapping properly around your waist instead of simply sitting on it.

"Is it?" Azul wants to vomit all his feelings up, eject them like a sea cucumber and walk off the embarrassment from showing his guts. Anything has to be less painful than thinking of his-

No you are not his. That's why he is being a coward and not looking you in the eye like any proper gentleman would. Why he had asked for a dance, kissed your hand, and not let go of you all under the flimsy pretense of a mask. Azul dislikes taking solace in your kindness, but he knows he can rely on you to not make him pay for this. Even if you really should.

"Has your heart already been carried off to a maze?" Azul is trying to make a joke, but you are so close to his heart you can hear the nerves hammering away at his typical sense of self.

"I think my heart is drowning." You whisper it, low into his pulse point before your eyes squeeze close in embarrassment. Azul's pulse does not slow, and he cannot squeeze you any closer, a sure sign as if you needed it that he isn't Floyd nor could he ever pretend to be. But he can guide you into a sway that's a little more like a dance.

This is enough for tonight. It will not be enough tomorrow, but it is enough for tonight.

Deuce

This is how friends look at each other. Deuce would know because he has never looked at you any other way. There's a respectful distance between you both, an almost boring decorum to the proper ballroom dance he is happily guiding you in. If it weren't for his continued refusal to call you by your name or meaningless title, it would be like you were talking normally.

"Do they have dances like this where you're from?" Deuce is genuine in his interest, always eager to find a new way to ensure you feel like you belong.

"In books and movies maybe." Your laughter makes him soar, spinning you into the air for a brief second that adds a shriek to it that brings a grin to his face that has you feeling lightheaded. "Honestly I never thought I would get a chance to go to something like this!"

"Why not?" It's a stupid question, even if you have repeatedly reassured him there is no such thing.

"Well a Masquerade is kind of a rich people thing, and I'm not rich." Technically you shouldn't be here either, but you let that thought go unsaid. It never even crosses Deuce's mind, there is something so natural about having you in his arms that the idea of a world without you in it-

A world without you in it. It crystalizes as someone taps on the mic to announce the band will play just one as nice slow song that if everything in Twisted Wonderland had been normal he would be rolling his eyes at as he escapes to the sidelines. But that's not what's happening, he is pulling you closer to him and placing his arm around your waist without so much as a second thought.

"I'm not rich either." Deuce says, no where near as stiff in tone or posture as you would have expected him to be when trying to slow dance. If anything he holds you as if it is the most natural thing in the world to him, lapsing into uncharacteristic silence as he really looks you in the eyes with some strange hidden emotion in them.

It's always been there of course, this is always the way Deuce looks at you, but the mask ironically forces you to really see it.

"I'm lucky to be in this world with you." He means it, and though you hold tightly to his hand he doesn't think you know just how much.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #deuce spade x reader #500 followers celebration #thank you for saying i am handling the mistaken ids well #i agree they tend to be contrived which is why i have tried to avoid making anyone angry at each other #because that majorly triggers my second hand embarrassment

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