#hawkinshellraiser

"Just tighten it to where its comfortable." Hands working meticulously to strap the bulletproof, loosely bulletproof, vest to the delinquent. Mouth dry, as he tugged on the shoulders of the protective gear. Why where his fingers shaking? Bellamy pulled the gun from his holster, and shoved it in the one he had just attached to Eddie. "That never leaves your side, or your hands." He gestured vaguely to the weapon, crossing his arms over his chest, closed off.

Eddie would be fine. A repetitive mantra in his head. The Earth won't swallow him whole. Bellamy runs a quick hand through his hair, tugging at the ends as if he could force his brain to suddenly cooperate. Ignore the tightly wound ball of unease. Fuck.

He gave in, the anxious sensation crawling up his skin, commanding his attention. Fingers curled into the front of the vest, dragging the delinquent towards him.

a study of stars | accepting .

INBOX PROMPTS ╱ 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

The look Steve casts says everything, without mercy or apology. He’s long since become fluent in the ruthless dialects of high school hallways, impervious Harrington dinner tables, and country club corridors. Whatever was said, it lands far from the compliment it was likely intended to be. High cheekbones, warm brown eyes, lips tinged with rose—Steve wears privilege like skin, unblemished by a single day of real labor. He should be grateful, shouldn't he?

And yet, something in the delivery still managed to cut. Just enough to sting. Like he wasn't good enough. That it was all bullshit.

@hawkinshellraiser said: "you're going the wrong way."

Billy was too busy being happy he found the other boy to notice Eddie was obviously lost in thought after their little moment in the basement. His own thoughts are a bit of a jumbled mess; stuck between wanting to kiss the brunette again and the fear that brings, and forgetting why he’s afraid in the first place.

“Didn’t mean to spook you, gorgeous.” He chuckled. “Just thought I’d take you up on that offer of a second kiss. Maybe get a quote on the cost of the stripper cake, too.” His jewel eyes sparkled with the mirth of his own joke.

Today was different. Instead of meeting at their spot in the woods, the rain storm meant hiding in the back of his van to stay dry and warm. Chrissy didn’t immediately answer, a little immersed in tracing out the bats inked on his forearm with a delicate finger, while the rain hitting the roof of his van was a comforting sound.

The answer didn’t come to her because she was trying to find a way in how to break it to him easily, or perhaps, sugar coat the truth. No, she promised him full honesty, no matter the topic or situation at hand. There was a process with her, which was out of habit, but in order to get the truth out of her? One had to be patient.

Only a moment passed, and when her gaze met his, she slowly shook her head. “No. I’ve never had that thought.” Chrissy understood what he meant. Little Miss Popular, going nowhere charming, and having to hide and sneak around. A lot was at stake and the way he protected her reputation was exactly why she did it. She made the effort to do anything, for a minute of his time, because she wanted to.

“Well, no. No. Let me rephrase that. I’ll admit… it would be nice to not have to hide.” She brushed the back of her fingers along his cheek, before leaning over to kiss the area she touched. Patience was also rewarded with more patience from her, hoping the reassurance would be of some comfort to him. “That doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. Besides, we won’t always have to hide… right?”

Eddie could scoff at the question if Steve didn't ask it so earnestly. He'd always thought such a thing was painfully obvious. It had been to all his friends. And Robin. And Nancy. And Dustin, after a conversation or two. Really, it seems like Steve was the last to know. "Steve," Eddie says gently. It's not unlike how someone else had said his name in the bathroom of the former Starcourt Mall. "I've known probably longer than you even knew I existed. I'm not expecting you to say it back or anything, but... it's getting too hard to pretend I don't."

Anyone could say that shit goes straight the fuck over Steve Harrington's head. He's definitely never stopped to think about what boys might be interested in him, and even their playful flirtations hadn't left things obvious, though perhaps they should have. Robin had questioned him once or twice on what was going on between the two of them — obviously there was energy, chemistry, but Steve had scoffed. Eddie liked boobies, too, right? It was all so very, very confusing.