Yep 👍

Is there a fic out there when after season 4 Steve doesn't trust/react well to Joyce and Hopper? I just think that him being the oldest and real adult left in Hawkins to deal with and protect the kids would mess him up a bit.

Like, I understand Joyce left because she wanted to protect her blood children and El, but none of the other parents are read in on the situation. She left the rest of the kids after another super traumatic experience where multiple people they knew and cared about died and only Steve, Nancy, and Robin could support them. Not to knock Nancy and Robin, but the show doesn't show them supporting the kids the way Steve does, so it all ended up on his shoulders.

Add in the fact Joyce up and abandons her kids when she learns about Hopper being alive, and then even more terrible things happen, and I feel like Steve would not trust the adults anymore and truly resist ans get upset when they try to parent him or take care of *his* kids.

So I'd anyone has fic recs or wants to write one... let me know...

Jep!

I have nightmares from these games.

Their style is almost too realistic.

They can really fuck you up 😅

Friends also recommended me stepstones… let’s see if this is less horror.

Found this really scary new horror game yall should check out. It's called indeed.com and it has a sequel called linkedin

Oh Baby

Written for the @stmarchmm prompts “omega/omega” and “pregnancy” | wc: 816 | rated: T | cw: pregnancy and birth related anxiety, vaguely implied past abusive relationship (Billy/Steve) | tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Omega Eddie, no Upside Down, alternate meeting, pregnant Steve and birth coach Eddie, pre-relationship

———

Steve doesn’t know what he expected from a potential birth companion, but Eddie Munson isn’t it.

The man practically bounces into the consultation room, haloed by a head full of frizzy hair and carrying a haphazard stack of papers. “Hi! Steven, right? I’m Eddie.” He holds out a hand for Steve to shake.

“Just Steve, please,” he corrects. “Only my parents call me Steven.”

“Steve. Gotcha.” As he sits on the other side of the desk, he grabs a pen to note Steve’s preference in his file. “And what brings you here today, Steve?”

There’s something in Eddie’s eyes, deep brown, big and soft, that makes Steve want to tell him everything. He can’t smell him underneath the scent-blocking patches at his pulse points, only knows Eddie’s an Omega because it says so in the practice’s brochure, but Steve imagines a dark chocolate aroma that matches his eyes.

“Well, like I told the receptionist, I’m pregnant. Obviously,” he jokes, resting a hand on the gentle swell of his belly. “But it’s my first pup and I’m starting to, uh, freak out a little?”

Eddie smiles sympathetically. “What freaks you out more, the end product or the process?”

“Definitely the process. I’ve always wanted pups, I want her, it’s just… There’s a lot of painful and bloody stuff that has to happen to get her here. Steve lowers his voice, suddenly sheepish. “Which I knew in, like, an abstract sense, but it’s feeling a lot more real now that we’re past the halfway mark.”

“Totally normal,” Eddie reassures him, flipping through his intake paperwork. “Twenty-two weeks, huh? Looks like your OB is happy with how you’re doing so far. You’re not high-risk, no complications.”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, so far.”

“Any reason to think that will change?” Eddie’s brow furrows as he looks up at Steve. He’s too pretty to look so serious when Steve is just being ridiculous.

“My roommate,” he sighs. “I love her to death, but she can be…”

Eddie nods. “A little paranoid?” he guesses.

“It’s contagious, I guess. Robin tells me everything she’s read that can go wrong. Then I can’t help but worry, even when I know Baby and I are healthy.” Steve rubs his eyes, not tearful but exhausted.

“I gotcha. Sleep is already a precious commodity during pregnancy, and it probably doesn’t help that your Alpha is so nervous.”

He can’t help but laugh at that. “Robin? No, she’s just a friend. My best friend.”

Steve must be imagining the relief that crosses Eddie’s face. “So Baby’s other parent…?”

“He’s not in the picture.” He lets own scent take on the sour edge it always gets when he thinks about Billy, hoping it will keep Eddie from asking.

Eddie simply nods and makes another note. “Okay, any other birthing support besides Robin?”

“Robin actually isn’t allowed in the room because I’d probably have to kill her, so…” Steve claps his hands on his thighs. “That’s where you come in, I guess?”

“Killing Robin falls a little outside my job description, but I do try to go above and beyond for my clients.” When that gets a chuckle out of Steve, Eddie winks at him. “But seriously, that’s what I’m here for. We’ll make a birth plan, work on whatever physical or mental preparation might help, and then I’ll be there for the main event. Anything you need, ice chips, a massage, a hand to hold, someone to yell at the nurses for you, I’m your guy.”

Steve bites his lip. He feels a little better already, just knowing he has Eddie in his corner. “That sounds like exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Excellent. I aim to please.” Eddie smiles at him. “Our receptionist, Chrissy, can get you set up for weekly appointments if that works for your schedule. Do you have any questions for me before we wrap up for today?”

Several, actually, but Steve knows better than to start asking if Eddie is single or into other Omegas. Instead he clears his throat. “No, I think I’m good.”

“All right.” Eddie stands, ready to hurry to his next consultation, and Steve fights down the urge to beg him to stay. Stupid hormones. “Well, Steve, it was a pleasure to meet you. If you need anything before your next appointment, give us a call.”

Steve shakes his hand again, relishing the warmth and strength of Eddie’s grip. “Thank you. Really, this has already helped so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Me, too. Not to mention meeting the little lady.” Eddie inclines his head in the direction of Steve’s belly. “Just not any time soon, right? Stay nice and cozy in there!” he tells the baby. “See you both next week.”

As he watches Eddie leave the room, Steve knows the flutters in his stomach are from more than just his pup kicking.

He is so screwed.

reblog to give your headache to elon musk instead

cw: substance abuse, addiction, stobin drugging-related PTSD I'm home sick and found this fully written in my drafts? from march?? apparently?

Steve and Robin, who make jokes about that time we did LSD like it's a funny anecdote to the point where no one knows the actual context of the situation.

(Dustin and Erica would know, if Steve and Robin weren't still self aware enough to decidedly not make jokes about it where those two can hear)

(But still.)

Steve and Robin, who only trust a drink if it comes from the other, who trade off sober duties even if someone else is already designated driver because it's not the same as making sure one of them always has their wits about them.

Steve and Robin who, in the very immediate aftermath of Starcourt, develop two drastically different relationships with substances-- Robin who is detrimentally afraid of the glass of wine her parents sometimes offer her on special occasions versus Steve who can and will try everything available to him just to prove again and again that it was never going to kill him even if he felt like he was dying at the time.

They self destruct in equal but opposite ways for the rest of that first summer before the looking out for each other starts, before the coping via humor starts, before the decision to just call it LSD Steve because if I have to try and process that it was something that I can't read and learn about on top of everything else--

It's not like it ever leaves them though, this way that this specific trauma has fucked them up.

(It's not like Dustin and Erica don't notice, no matter how hard their friends try to hide it.)

It's not like there's anything they can do about it when Steve relapses and goes on a bender that has him losing a whole day of time and waking up to Robin checking his heart rate or when Robin thinks she's in a good enough headspace to do shots with their friends and ends up on the floor of another dirty bathroom with Steve holding her hair back, less from the booze and more from all the hyperventilating, the tears that won't stop until long after she's sober.

(It's not like people don't notice when Robin's jokes about their little LSD trip get pointed on nights Steve's had a bit too much, or how Steve cuts her off from making those jokes at all on nights her hands can't steady around a plastic cup; it's not like they could hide anything from people like this, who hunt monsters and solve mysteries and swallow horrors like the smoothest of whiskeys.)

(It's not like Dustin hasn't gone to Eddie when he gets worried, even if he never spills the whole story. It's not like Erica hasn't asked Nancy unsubtle questions about how to help people with dependency issues. It's not like Eddie and Nancy haven't spoken their own concerns into the quiet dark of night over crackling phone lines where no one else can hear.)

There are nights like this and they happen like clockwork, nights in the little house in Indy for which only two of them are technically on the lease but four and then six and sometimes a whole gaggle of high schoolers still pass through like transients every weekend.

There are nights like this, when the youngest of their ranks aren't around and the booze flows freely and they're out on the porch watching the sun set late with the lift and pull of summertime, when a conversation goes sour with a comment that betrays something that has yet to be spoken aloud.

Steve and Robin.

Steve and Robin who have clearly been through something the rest of them aren't privy to; Steve and Robin who mention it offhandedly without any proper details; Steve and Robin who are hurting right there in front of them and how are they supposed to help how are any of them supposed to--

"Okay, that's it--"

"Nance..."

It's Eddie's warning tone but it's also Jonathan giving her that look from where he's perched on the porch rail and it's also the sudden tension in Robin's brow and confusion in Argyle's and something painfully close to resignation in Steve's.

But this is Nancy Wheeler. It's a miracle she's let them go on like this for as long as she already has.

"No, I'm over the secrets," she shakes her head once, definitive, and levels her gaze on those twin hearts curled together on the porch swing. "You two are going to tell us what happened to you-- who hurt you-- and we're going to fucking fix it."

Steve and Robin, who lean impossibly closer into each other's space.

Steve and Robin, looking ready to bolt.

Steve and Robin, who don't look hopeful for any sort of fixing.

But it's not like it was going to stay unspoken forever.

This is enough!

Perfectly filling my mind and soul.

I love it.

Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest.

It's just not really something he's ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he's locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It's never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It's just a way to be closer to someone, and it's nice, but it's never anything more than that.

Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

They're high when it happens, laying side by side in Eddie's unmade bed while the weed sinks into their bones. Steve loves the way it seems to slow down the world around them - makes everything syrupy and sweet, so he feels every brush of Eddie's fingers against his own in every inch of his body as they pass the joint back and forth.

The casual contact makes him long for more, and when he's high, Steve just...gives into the longing. He lets himself drift closer until they're pressed together so closely that Eddie can hide his face in Steve's uncharacteristically messy hair when he's trying to cover up a snort of laughter in response to Steve's deranged weed-induced musings.

Tonight, they meander their way through a directionless conversation - as they so often do when they get high together - until the joint is so small it nearly singes their fingertips. When Eddie finally sits up to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, Steve tries not to miss the feeling of Eddie's body against his own too much, knowing it'll be back soon enough.

"I'm thinking of handing over the DM throne to Will for the next oneshot, after we finish this campaign," Eddie says, speech slow and thoughtful as he puts out the blunt. "Think he'll be good at it."

Steve just hums, eyes heavy-lidded, gaze fixed on the curls he wants so badly to run his fingers through, just to know what it feels like. He's high enough to not care about the consequences when he decides fuck it, and reaches out to feel the soft ringlets beneath his fingertips.

"You're good at it," he muses - a delayed response to Eddie's comment. If Eddie is bothered by the way Steve is carefully petting his hair, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns back to look down at Steve with a soft smile that makes Steve's insides feel all gooey.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, a hint of a smirk overtaking the softness. "You ready to admit that you like watching me play my little nerd game, Harrington?"

Steve blames the quiet whine that escapes his throat on the weed, along with the way he honest-to-God pouts in response to Eddie's words. He tugs on a lock of Eddie's hair petulantly. "Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie's face does something strange then, and Steve can't quite parse out what it means with the weed making his brain all foggy. He looks...surprised? Fond? Maybe both?

"Sorry, Stevie," he replies, teasing but somehow genuine at the same time. Steve smiles dopily, an expression that Eddie returns. "That better?"

Satisfied, Steve nods. Hums in affirmation. "Yeah. I like that one."

And it's true. Steve loves when Eddie calls him Stevie, because Eddie always sounds so fond when he does, and it makes Steve's heart feel too big for his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, still grinning as he leans down until he's propped up on one elbow, hovering just over Steve on the bed. "What else do you want me to call you, hm? Stevie? Steve? M'lord?"

The last one makes Steve laugh and close his eyes, happy to bask in the sound of Eddie's voice as he floats along with their conversation.

"Sir Steven? Sweetheart?" Eddie continues, and Steve's heart jumps just a bit at the second one. Then, Eddie murmurs, "Baby?" 

And Steve's eyes fly open.

Steve stares at his friend with wide eyes - lips parted as a soft, punched-out oh escapes him - and it's weird, is the thing. Because Steve has been called baby before, lovingly by his grandmother when he was still a little boy causing mischief while his parents weren't watching, meanly by boys on the playground when he cried over something silly like a scraped knee…and when he got older, teasingly by the girls he took on dates.

It's not a new name for him, but it feels groundbreaking nonetheless.

Because the word sounds so much better coming from Eddie's mouth than anyone else's. It's soft, and fond, and knowing, and...

It's longing.

"Yeah,” Steve croaks. "Yeah."

"Which one? Sir Steven?" Eddie asks playfully, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. He grins maniacally when Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment. "No? Which one was it, then, that you liked the most?"

"Eddieeee," Steve complains, burying his flushed face into the pillow and avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know which one."

Eddie shakes his head in an almost scolding manner and Steve is convinced he must've moved closer, because Steve can feel Eddie's breath against his skin, and the air in the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter.

"Nuh-uh, Stevie," Eddie says, poking him playfully in the ribs. "You gotta tell me which one."

Steve hesitates, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. He sort of wants to hide, but he also really wants Eddie to call him that again. It's probably thanks to his intoxicated brain that he allows himself to answer truthfully. "Baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice and smile softening in tandem. "You like when I call you baby, Stevie?"

Steve stares up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe this is really happening, and nods. "Yeah. That one."

Eddie is so close, now, that Steve can feel the warmth that emanates from his skin; can see the flecks of gold in his eyes amongst the molten chocolate brown. He's got freckles - Steve realizes. Tiny little dots across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that form constellations on his skin. Steve thinks, maybe a bit deliriously, that he would be perfectly happy spending hours tracing them, the way astronomers of old once traced the stars.

"Eddie..." he breathes, heart pounding as he begins to feel more and more desperate for...for something. Anything to let him know that he's not the only one succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

Eddie blinks slowly, and his eyes widen as though he's just realized something important. Steve watches his throat bob nervously before Eddie finally whispers, "Yeah, baby?"

Steve inhales sharply through parted lips - a soft, plaintive gasp that draws Eddie's eyes to his lips, and-

Oh.

That's what Steve wants, isn't it?

"I-" Steve tries, helpless to stop his own gaze from falling on Eddie's lips - pink and parted and just a little bit chapped, and so, so close.

"Baby," Eddie says again, and this time it's different. Unintentional. Like Eddie said it without meaning to. And maybe it's just the weed, but Steve swears he can feel the word burrowing its way into his chest and settling around his heart like a blanket. It makes his whole body feel warm - something only made worse by the hot coal of desire that begins smoldering low in his gut.

He's so lost in it all that he can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed when he whispers, "Please."

Steve waits with bated breath until finally, any remaining nervousness retreats from Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smiles in that way that makes Steve's stomach flutter. It's such a pretty smile. Steve can only watch as it grows closer, going cross-eyed for the briefest moment in his quest to to stare at Eddie's lips until suddenly his eyes are fluttering shut, because...because...

Because Eddie kisses him with lips still curled into a smile, and Steve thinks - utterly nonsensically - that feeling Eddie's lips against his own is so much better than just looking at them. The thought makes him giggle, just a bit, and he finds himself grinning into the kiss, too.

They part for a moment so Steve can let out another quiet giggle, and Eddie seems to pause for a moment, smiling down at Steve with poorly concealed affection. "Baby," he murmurs reverently, and then he's leaning down to capture Steve's lips in another kiss.

This time, Steve is ready for it, but it draws a muffled whimper out of him nonetheless. His nose fills with the scent of weed and cigarettes and cheap cologne - the smell of Eddie - and it's so overwhelmingly good. He lets his lips fall open on a gasp...doesn't close them when Eddie tentatively brushes his tongue against Steve's own. He shuts his eyes, because the press of Eddie's hand to his cheek and Eddie's chest to his own feel like so much more like that.

Eddie breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath, and inexplicably, that's what really sends every last bit of restraint in Steve's brain packing. It's so simple, so ordinary - the soft, quick sip of air Eddie takes in. It's a breathy little sound that Steve has heard from countless others before, but maybe that's why it puts him in this unfamiliar chokehold of wanting.

This isn't just anyone.

This is Eddie.

And Eddie is making those quiet, lovely little sounds because he's kissing Steve, and Steve is very rapidly realizing that he is utterly incapable of being normal about any of this.

He feels his cheeks go hot as he forces his heavy limbs to move so he can tangle his fingers in Eddie's curls, holding him close (because Steve thinks he might die if Eddie stops kissing him, now). And it's bliss. It's addictive. It's ruinously tender, and Steve feels himself unraveling from within. Feels the knots in his heart - left behind by absent parents, cruel friends, and distant girlfriends - turn to dust at the gentlest brush of Eddie's lips.

He whimpers into Eddie's mouth and clings to him even tighter, feeling his throat grow strangely tight as his eyes sting at the corners, and when Eddie pulls away he's got a small furrow in his brow, just under his bangs. 

"Stevie?" Eddie murmurs. His eyes dart to Steve's cheeks, and when he brushes his thumb along the skin just under Steve's eye, it drags a bit of wetness with it. Only then does Steve realize...he's crying.

And Eddie is wiping away his tears.

"I..." Steve croaks, eyes wide and spilling more tears with every blink. He drags his hands down from Eddie's hair to rest on his chest, beginning to curl into himself as the embarrassment sinks in.

Christ, he's crying. And all they've done is kiss.

Eddie's frown deepens, but he doesn't pull away completely. Instead, he lets their noses brush and breathes, "Baby..."

Steve's breath hitches.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Eddie continues, still brushing Steve's tears away with gentle fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Steve gasps hurriedly, because as far as he understands, it's the truth. "Nothing's wrong, I just..." He closes his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat and admits with a trembling voice, "I didn't know it could be like this."

He opens his eyes and sees Eddie's expression soften, but the concern remains. "What do you mean?"

"I just..." Steve tries, sniffling and letting out a quiet, distressed laugh. He slams his eyes shut again and rubs them roughly with his palms, trying to force the tears back into his body. "Jesus, this is fucking embarrassing, man."

"Steve..." Eddie murmurs. He sounds sad. Conflicted. Like he's not sure what to do or how to help - if he should stay or go - and that just won't do, because Steve is certain he'll drift away on the breeze without Eddie to ground him. He's got to try to explain, even with his thoughts still feeling syrupy slow from the weed.

He wants to tell Eddie that he's kissed dozens of people before, but kissing them never felt like this. He wants to explain that he's used to taking the lead, and that it's nice having someone else set the pace, for once. He wants to tell Eddie about the way most people he's kissed have done so - frantically...lustfully. Kissing has always been a simple means to an end. And it's never made Steve feel like this.

What he actually manages to say is slightly different, though.

"No one's ever kissed me like they love me, before."

His eyes are still covered by his own hands, so he can't see what is surely a stunned expression on Eddie's face, but he can hear the way Eddie gasps in response to Steve's words.

It’s too much, he thinks. He's said too much, fast-forwarded too far into the movie. It's too early to be talking about love. Steve knows this. It's just...

His stupid, floaty little brain can't envision a world where someone kisses the way Eddie does without being hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

"Shit," Steve breathes after several minutes of silence. Or maybe it's several seconds. He really doesn't know. Time feels funny, when he's high. "I know that's, like, way too much. I'm too much. I don't know why I-"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. He feels Eddie's hands wrap carefully around his wrists to pull them from his eyes. Eddie is being so careful with him...like he can't see that his tenderness is exactly the thing that’s ripping Steve apart at the seams.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to drag Eddie back down and kiss him until he can't breathe. Until Eddie's sweetness becomes warm and comforting instead of feeling like the scalding heat of jumping into a hot tub after a dip in the cold waters of the pool.

"Baby, look at me," Eddie says softly.

Steve is helpless but to obey.

Eddie's gaze is sad but kind when Steve finally meets it with his own. He's got the barest hint of a smile on his pretty lips - the same ones Steve so desperately wants to feel against his own, again - and Steve feels his stomach swirl with something he can't quite describe.

"It's not too much," Eddie continues, voice steady. "And neither are you, okay? You, Steve Harrington, are never too much. Not to me."

The words settle over Steve like a blanket, and he can't decide whether it's comforting or suffocating. He just wants to stop talking about things so they can move on. He just wants Eddie.

"Eds..." he rasps desperately. "I don't- I just want-" He cuts himself off with the hitching breath of what may be a sob. He's not really sure, at this point.

"What can I do, honey?" Eddie says, and he really needs to stop with the pet names, or Steve might genuinely fracture into pieces. "What do you want?"

Steve is sunk too deep into the syrupy slow feeling of the weed - too desperate to feel Eddie pressed against him again - to do anything but tell the truth.

"Just want you," he says.

Eddie smiles - eyes crinkling at the corners - and Steve breathes the sight in like oxygen. "You have me, baby," Eddie murmurs. He's rubbing small, comforting circle into the sensitive skin of Steve's wrists now, and it's perfect. It's wonderfully, disgustingly perfect.

"I do?" Steve asks dumbly. His brain feels fifteen seconds behind everything, but he thinks that's probably okay. Eddie seems to be just fine waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah, Stevie," Eddie chuckles quietly. "Had me for a long time, now. Just wasn't sure if you would want me the way I wanted you."

"You want me," Steve says breathlessly, more to himself than to Eddie. "You wanna kiss me."

Eddie's resulting laugh is a bit louder, a bit brighter, this time. "I do," he says. The sadness is fading from his eyes, giving way to something that looks an awful lot like elation. Steve remains still and watches, entranced, as Eddie carefully hauls himself up until he can swing a leg over Steve's to straddle him.

Still smiling broadly, Eddie leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, studying Steve with those big, brown eyes. "You gonna let me?" he asks Steve, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve nods, lips parted in surprise he can't quite seem to shake, and Eddie's expression softens.

"Gonna let me kiss you like I love you, Stevie?" Eddie whispers.

Steve's not sure when, exactly, his tears had begun to dry up, but he knows they must have at some point, because they're returning with a vengeance, now. "Please," he breathes.

Eddie shifts, and Steve expects Eddie to go right back to kissing him, but that's not what he does.

Instead, Eddie releases one of Steve's wrists and cups his cheek tenderly. This time, the feeling of his thumb brushing the tears away is a familiar one, and it makes Steve smile dopily.

"You know the reason I kiss you like I love you?" Eddie asks. Steve shakes his head and tracks Eddie's gaze as it drifts towards the place where his fingers are still wrapped around Steve's wrist. His lips quirk into a smile as he uses his grip to pin Steve's hand to the mattress, right beside Steve's head, and laces their fingers together.

Their noses are brushing, now, and Eddie's hips are resting on Steve's, and Eddie's hair has fallen around them like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out, and it's so much. Eddie is everywhere, and he's everything, and Steve is completely, unquestioningly in love with him - probably has been in love with him for ages, now, and just never let himself think too hard about it.

"I kiss you like I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie breathes, and their lips brush as he speaks. "Because I love you."

And the thing is…Steve has spent his entire life wondering what it would feel like to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was loved. It's something that's eluded him for twenty years.

So it's all the more miraculous when Eddie kisses him again, and suddenly, Steve knows. He knows that Eddie Munson loves him. He feels it in the way Eddie kisses him slowly and deliberately, like it would never have crossed Eddie's mind not to. He feels it in their linked hands, in the way Eddie squeezes his hand when Steve makes a desperate, wanton sound into his mouth.

He feels it when Eddie brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles before kissing Steve's forehead, then his nose, and then his lips again.

Feels it when Eddie's lips begin to wander down his neck.

When Eddie sucks a mark into the thin skin above his collar bone, just because Steve begs him too.

When Eddie pulls Steve's shirt over his head with careful hands, then lets Steve do the same, because Steve needs the intimacy of skin on skin.

He feels it when Eddie stops Steve's wandering hands from venturing too far south with a firm grip and apologetic eyes, because Eddie wants him - of course he does - but not when they've been smoking. Not when there's even the slightest chance that Steve might wake up and regret it in the morning.

And he hears it, too, later that night when they're laying in Eddie's bed exchanging soft, sleepy kisses, unwilling to drift off and let the night end, just yet.

Their legs are woven together - bare, aside from their boxers - and Steve has lost track of how long they've been tangled up in each other like this. He doesn't particularly care, though. He's pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

"Love you, Stevie," Eddie whispers against his lips. They both smile into the next kiss, and Steve's heart is full to bursting, because he believes it. He knows, now, what it feels like to be loved...to be adored.

"I love you," he murmurs in reply, relishing in Eddie's sharp intake of breath. He giggles a bit, for no reason other than the pure joy that's been coursing through his body all night. "God," he laughs. "I fucking love you, Eddie Munson.

Eddie is quiet for a moment before his face splits into a grin that could rival Steve's own, and he's so goddamn beautiful that Steve almost feels like crying again.

He doesn't cry, though. He just watches adoringly as Eddie smiles and nudges Steve's nose with his own. "Yeah, baby?" Eddie teases.

"Yeah, Eds," he answers simply.

And he's pretty sure Eddie knows - is pretty sure Eddie can feel it - because Steve kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, and he pours every ounce of his heart into it. 

Steve kisses Eddie like he loves him, because he does. God, help him, he does.

And Eddie?

Eddie kisses Steve like he loves him back, and Steve gets it now, because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s perfect.

It’s earth-shattering.

It’s everything.

--

Shout-out to @lyphyshard for the beta!

For more of my Steddie blurbs and one-shots, check out my masterlist!

"I would kill for you. I would die for you" would you take a break for me? Would you sit down and rest? For a day, a week, a year? Would you let others take care of your needs for me? Would you let yourself be held for me? By me?

Steddie Microfic

April prompt: score

Word count: 351

No warnings apply

Rated G

@steddiemicrofic

“He shoots,” Steve says, watching as Eddie prepares to aim at the basket, right hand firmly behind the ball, left hand steadying. He crouches, explodes up, and flicks his wrist.

The basketball goes in. Nothing but net.

“And he scores!” Steve yells, running and tackling Eddie in a hug. “You did it, dude!”

“Holy shit,” Eddie giggles. “I did!”

He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, looking first at the basket, then at the ball, slowly rolling away. “And if I’m not mistaken, my liege,” he glances over at Steve in his periphery, smirk playing along the edges of his lips. “That means you owe me.”

Steve’s grinning too hard to sound worried. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Eh,” Eddie says, “depends on how badly you don’t want to play D&D.”

Steve stops. “I- Ed, c’mon, you don’t want me to play. I’m not gonna be able to remember anything, I’m just gonna slow you down, even the simple math is gonna trip me up. I- it won’t be fun for you.”

Eddie turns with furrowed brows towards Steve. “It’ll be fun because it’ll be time spent with you, dude.” He sighs. “If you really don’t want to play, that’s one thing, but don’t put yourself down like that. Don’t call yourself dumb and uninteresting. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“It actually is the truth,” Steve argues. “I’ve gotten too many concussions to read, dude. And I’m just… me. Nothing special.”

“You are special enough,” Eddie argues back. “You’re kind and funny and observant and you always know what to say, whether it’s to make someone feel better or to make us laugh. You’re sharp as a fuckin’ tack and I hate that you can’t see it because it means we’ve all failed you as friends.”

Steve snorts. “Don’t give yourself all the credit. I was ruined long before any of you came around.”

Eddie kisses him. Hard. Pulls back with wide eyes and uneven breathing. “Steve-”

Steve’s breath hitches. “You mean it?”

“I do.”

Steve watches him lick his lips. “Do it again?”

Eddie blinks, grins. “Gladly.”

Yes just yes!

They are a band now