#I have some words for Steve

[boldlyvoid]

What’s the name of that Eddie x reader fic where she’s Steve’s friend and he knows she’s in love with him but he’s too busy being a whore so eddie steps in a shows her how a real man should treat her?

[flowercrowngods]

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

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.

[montanabohemian]

since i'm back in my stucky feels, i just need to know why they chose "it's been a long long time" to reintroduce bucky to steve. i mean what in the actual fuck were they thinking if they didn't want us to be absolutely unhinged about them?

[meeple-inc]

A small question for the employees running the blog; what's it like to work at Meeple, or even the HQ specifically if you happen to be there? Any cool workplace stories?

We do in fact work at Meeple HQ, at the MeCloud! Unfortunately, Meeple policies prohibit me from discussing anything about what happens within the workplace in detail, but I get plenty of desk space and I enjoy the presence of my coworkers!

[shirozora-draws]

Listen.

I can explain. I saw a Tumblr post about shoulder kisses a month ago if the time stamp on my Discord messages are anything to go by. Then I saw a very evocative quote tweet about eroticism. And I, uh, I was feeling really spiteful. If you know, you know.

Anyway, I lost two days of writing and a lot of sleep to this. Rip my fucking sanity.

[collectivecloseness]

Omg some more Robin pls?! Maybe some angst or smth?

Enough Sweetness

Robin Buckley x reader

Steve tilted his head up to watch Robin, yet again laughing under his breath, at her humming to another cheesy love song blasting through the radio of family video. This time she was even dancing to it. Again!

He’d let her enjoy her happiness. She genuinely deserved it, and he was kinda living through her vicarious joy in her love life right now. But not when she was about to abdanon him during his shift, and leave him with a tonne of shit to sort. “Hey! Wanna pick up those tapes on the fooor, for the dozenth time?” Steve chirped at her, but he still shook his head as he smiled, when Robin span around to him, beaming widely herself.

Her teeth shone, dancing with the large bag of candyfloss she hadn’t realised she’d been hugging for the past twenty minutes now. “Y/n’s picking me up early. I’ll do it when she gets here!” She waved Steve off, although hopped over to his side, putting away the sugary treat and grinning up at him, so glad each other’s positive energy was bringing the other up more and more! She was still just bouncing on her feet as she stood next to him, asking him yet again if she should change into the other shirt she brought with her, needing his advice with what she should wear on her first date with you.

Yesterday had been massive. An amazing event in Robins usually perilous life. The first time her heart had beat that fast and it wasn’t because of a panic attack, in months. You had asked Robin out, on a date. You!!!

Robin had been desperately and deeply crushing on you for months, ever since you moved to town and became friends with her and Steve! Robin was so pleased you were actually gay, because she had no idea if you had actually been flirting with her when she had with you, holy shit! And thank god you’d been brave enough to make the first move and ask her out, because Robin knew she would’ve been too scared to speak up. Well, minus a trapped life or death situation. Like how she told Steve her... situation.

The entire end of yesterday’s shift, the phone call between the two that had lasted all night, and all of today’s shift, had literally just been Robin and Steve discussing your date tonight! Robin thought Steve was nearly as excited as her. She was so so so glad she could just talk with him about it! Over and over. Even when she was basically just repeating the same thing for the millionth time, Steve still got excited with her when she brought it up, even asking more questions about it that he’d thought up!

They mostly, however, talked about what you two would do, since Robin, half stupidly, said she wanted to be the one to think of the date idea, since you’d been bold enough to ask her in the first place. She panicked until Steve helped her with some ideas, and she finally had decided on a good date! Robin had it all planned out, every detail perfect. She’d even gotten you a present! Just some chocolates. One of the big selection boxes, a brand you specifically brought up liking.

Robin always remembered those things about you. Steve had teased her for an entire month, when on a shopping trip you two had tested loads of perfumes, and then Robin secretly bought the one you liked the most. She did literally douse herself in the stuff, but Steve teasing her about spraying it extra hard whenever you came in, didn’t help her red face when she was trying to get it on with the ladies! Rather, one particular lady. But... those chocolates were golden. Steve said that type of present was okay for a first date too.

Something Robin asked Steve about yet again. Her bag was by the candy section near the front of the store, since you’d be here soon enough and no customers would be at this time. She opened up her bag, showing off the selection box to Steve in person, and not just a peek through her zipped bag. “Are you sure it’s big enough? Or- or is it too big? Or-?”

“Robin it’s chocolate. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Steve chuckled. But Robin only rolled her eyes at him. “You’re a guy, you don’t get it.”

“Well I get dates, since I’ve actually been on some.” Steve teased, raising his elbow up to defend him from Robin’s shove he knew was coming, but both friends still had smirks on their faces. It’d been a part of the reason Robin was so excited anyway. She kept bringing up the last 24 hours how this would be her first proper date!

“Look, y/n will love them. I swear. You didn’t even need chocolate, she likes you.” Steve solemnly vowed, hand to his heart, and the other coming down on Robin’s shoulder. Who just started vibrating under him at the knowledge, like a puppy on a sugar rush. Steve had to physically take his hand back off, she was making it tingly. He still looked at her. Holy shit. Had she just been vibrating this entire time?

“Yeah, but it’ll definitely score points!” Robin chimed, knowingly.

“Well you know what would score points with me? Picking up those tapes I’ve asked you to clear. You said you wanted to split into sections today.”

“Luckily I don’t need to score points with you, I already know you love me.” Robin sung, Steve having his turn to roll his eyes at her now, as Robin moved back over to the wrong side of the room.

“Hey! At least take your bag to the break room. That way I won’t break my neck on that as well.” Steve teased, lifting it up for her to snatch out his hands.

“Okay!” Robin said, balancing her tray of chocolates in one hand and the strap of her bag in the other.

“Y/n will definitely know you’re a creepy stalker if she sees you just staring out the windows.” Steve teased, tidying the tapes on his side of the room, Robin not even caring about giving a comeback today, too cheerful, only a snort, as she turned her back.

But Robin’s luck did have to run out at some point. While she woke up with a great skin day, and she’d found the bottle of conditioner that always made her hair look extra soft, and her best looking clothes had dried in time for her to wear/pack in her work bag... Robin made a mistake.

Robin skipped over to the front desk, where the break room entrance would be. Only to trip over the pile of tapes on her path, and go flying into the dirty carpeted floor.

“Shit!” Steve swore, running over to where he’d seen Robin topple, only hissing as he saw her gift for you, crumpled between her hands and the floor, and the chocolates scattered across the entirety of it. It was broken. But Steve had to quickly move onto Robin, who was face first on the floor, taking her arm and lifting her up a little. “Robin? Hey. Are you okay?” He asked concerned.

Robin felt dazed for a moment, the heels of her hands slightly burning, and embarrassment flooding through her at eating shit like that. But then, as Steve helped her sit up, Robin took sight of all of her chocolates, smashed and thrown around the floor. It was ruined.

Everything was ruined!

Steve’s heart sank deep into his stomach when Robin immediately burst into tears. “Shit, Robin.” He rubbed her shoulder as he stood her up by himself, very little help from his friend, as he quickly determined she wasn’t properly hurt. She was just upset. Her face not red from bashing it, but from how her tears started to flow.

“Sssh ssh ssh ssh. Hey, Robin. It’s okay.” Steve promised, rubbing both her shoulders quickly to try and comfort her, feeling awful as she buried her hand into her face, after staring at more at her gift strewn about.

“Sssshh. I promise y/n won’t mind, eh?” Steve spoke with a smile. But it didn’t work. Robin shook her head vehemently, rubbing the back of her hand against her nose. “No. It’s all ruined!” She sobbed. Steve gave her a quick hug, murmuring a “No it’s not. It’s not ruined.” into her hair, before pulling back with his hands still planted firmly on her shoulders.

Robin only stood in his hold. “I’m so stupid. You told me to pick them up.”

Steve couldn’t have his best friend talking like this, especially not on what was supposed to be one of the best days of her life! “Nah. I’m too bossy, not surprising my words go in one ear half the time.” Steve shrugged, to which, to his glee, gets a small laugh from Robin.

“You’re not bossy.” She moans, sniffling that tiny smile away again.

“Thank you.” Steve still smiles, gratefully holding onto Robin when she pushes herself into his chest for a hug this time. Squeezing her tight in his arms as she hugged his back, his smile dimming a little as he sees the open box, crumpled on the floor. There wasn’t a single chocolate left in the red plastic of the packaging, nothing salvageable. But it wasn’t that big a deal. He just had to focus on Robin right now. Get her happy and date ready again like she was a minute ago.

But then as he pulled back, because he swore he heard her crying more, even though Robin still looked like she needed that hug, Steve’s eyes wandered down. And his face softened in empathy. “Hey... What happened?” He asked gently, looking down to get Robin’s attention on her pant leg, that was very ruffled and messed up, high on her calf.

Robin sniffed, keeping one hand on Steve’s bicep for leverage, as she pulled up her pant leg, and started to feel the small sting of pain now she was moving it about, now she’d noticed it. She had a scrape on her knee. Little dots of blood around a tiny cut, the skin all looking very flushed.

Steve hissed through his teeth, mostly to show Robin he saw it, as he rubbed his hand up her back. “Come on. Let’s go to the break room, get it fixed.”

Steve walked her there, turning on the lights before he propped Robin up on a stool, grabbing the first aid kit and gently dabbing at her scraped knee with an antiseptic wipe. As Robin used the tissues he’d brought, to clean up her snot. Although she was still crying. Steve carefully pressed a bandaid to her knee, before settling on his knees by her front, gently nudging her hand with the back of his finger. “Hey. What’s wrong?” Steve learnt to ask that more than ‘no need to cry’ after that had been ingrained in him as a child. He’d only gotten rid of it after his King Steve days, even then when he was trying to comfort people he cared about.

“It’s okay! You’re still gonna go on your date and have an amazing time. It doesn’t matter that much, really Robin.” He assured her, but he chewed on his lip as Robin didn’t respond, tears still following heavily, only shaking her head with a groan, disagreeing with him.

Steve sighed, deciding to sit down properly at her knees now, knowing that under the layer of glee Robin had for this date, she also was bursting with anxiety. “Why’d you think chocolate would be the end all?”

“It’s not about the chocolate. It’s because it was a gift for her.” Robin explained despondently, her breath hitching with cries as she scrubbed harshly at her cheeks. Who cares? Her make up was ruined now anyways!

“Okay, why do you think a gift would be that important?” Steve decides to ask instead, his own breath catching in his throat at the miserable look Robin gives him from where her head is bowed. Fringe a mess, mascara dabbed under her eyelids, skin flushed under her freckles, and eyes dejected.

“Oh jeez, you’re really nervous aren’t you?” Steve realised, rubbing his hand over the back of his head.

“It’s-“ Robin had to take a deep breath, the action immediately stuttering in her throat, and causing her to sob again. Wiping at the tears still leaking out of her eyes. “It’s not just that it’ll be my first actual date. Or that, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to date that many people. Because I can’t exactly go around saying that I...” She swallowed, tearing up further as her lip trembled. “Saying I like women.”

Steve shuffled closer, resting his hand on her good knee.

“That like, I might not get many opportunities to date. It’s not just that, I-“ Robin heaved a breath that sounded pained, spit flecking out as she breathed. “It’s that... I really, really like her Steve. Like, I don’t just like y/n, I...” This one, Robin found harder to finish. She didn’t wail more, or cover her face, She just needed help in saying it. He nodded in understanding. He already knew. Squeezing her knee, he moved until Robin could catch his eyes. “I really really really like her Steve. I like her so much. And I just... I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t like me that way. If we go on a date, and she wasn’t really that serious, or she decides I’m not good enough-!”

“Hey! Nobody could think that.” Steve shook his head as he stopped her there. Eyes serious but empathetic up at her.

And Robin nodded, taking his hand that was on her knee into both her own. Holding them tight, as she tries to come down.

Steve can tell she really does believe him, so he shimmies a little closer, his feet jammed against hers as he adds. “I mean hey, didn’t she ask you out?”

Robin laughed. A shy and excited little “Yeah.” leaving her lips, like she still couldn’t quite believe it herself. It was really a good for her moment. And she squeezes her best friends hand in excitement as she recalled the happy memory, Steve squeezing back.

“What the hell happened in here?!?”

Robin and Steve’s heads both shot to the closed door of the break room, instantly recognising your voice. And realising you must’ve seen the scene of scattered tapes and ruined chocolates all over the floor, with no one in sight.

The two both froze, before turning back to look at each other. With only knowing looks, no words, passing by the duo, Steve easily recognised that Robin wanted him to go out first, and get you.

Which is what he did, Robin watching him stand and open the door, hearing him mumbling to you about her, as she sniffed, and desperately tried to wipe at her eyes. Oh my god. How much snot did she have in her? And why could she still not stop crying??!

When you entered the break room after Steve had somewhat explained the front, your heart broke as you saw your Robin. Sitting there on a stool, looking so small, as she looked up at you with a tear streaked face, pant leg lifted and a bandaid on her knee. “Hey! Hey sweet girl. What happened?” You asked, walking towards her.

Robin looked up at you sadly, eyes blurry from her tears, feeling like her shaky lip was about to form a pout. And all she wanted to do was reach her arms up for you.

But she didn’t need to. Because you swooped straight down to her level, enveloping her in a big hug. Robin cried more into your shoulder as you did so. Not loudly, but knowing she was letting drool and tears onto your jacket and still clinging to you anyway. Little hiccups leaving her as you pulled gently away, rubbing her leg up and down above her sore knee. “Hey sweetheart, you’re okay. What happened?”

Robin took some shaky breaths, still clinging onto your jacket as you held her arms, her voice a little shaky too. “Th- the chocolates.”

“Were they for me?” You asked, with a sweet and surprised smile.

Robin nodded. Wanting to bemoan ‘I ruined it’, but finding herself unable to with that smile you were giving her.

“Oh Robbie, that’s so sweet! Thank you honey.” You hugged around Robin’s neck, swaying her a little, with your cheek pressed to hers. And Robin couldn’t help but close her eyes, and take a breath, clinging onto your arms that were wrapped so lovingly around her neck, and just letting you sway her.

“It’s okay, thank you for the gift anyway sweetie, I saw it. That was so sweet. They looked nice.” You spoke warmly.

Robin nodded, sniffing as she clenched her hands back and forth over the arms of your jacket. She was about to say, that she just wanted everything to be perfect, to prove to you, but she was cut off by you talking first.

“I don’t think I need that much more sweetness though, do I honey?” You grinned wide, before leaning up and giving Robin a big kiss to her cheek.

It made her giggle, actually giggle. Even though it was sappy. But she knew that was the point. You were trying to make her laugh.

But as Robin’s giggles died down, you gave a tilt of your head with a small shrug, saying a causal “Also” before pulling out from your bag, the exact same box of chocolates.

“Holy shit.” Robin laughed in a breath, still sounding a little congested. You wiped her tears softly with the back of your hand. “Yeah. Seems like we have a lot more in common than we thought. And we haven’t even started the date yet!” You smiled, and Robin smiled shyly but excitedly back, hiding her freckled face that was red for a different reason now. “So I think you’re doing a pretty good job so far.” You winked, and your hands dropped from Robin’s shoulders to her lap. Where Robin could pick them up into her own, and hold them.

Robin sniffed, most of her tears having stopped now at least, and you freed one hand to rub at her hurt leg again. “C’mon. Let’s clean up that pretty face, after Steve took my shining knight moment of helping your poor leg.” You smiled, taking Robin’s hand to help stand her up, and keeping a hold of it, as well as still looking at her, while you walked her over to the basin in the room.

Robin stammered out, finally able to make a joke “I might’ve bled out first, before you got here.”

You grinned at your date. “Well, did Steve get to do this?” You asked, getting on your knees in front of Robin, and kissing her sore knee.

Robin sucked her lips in with her smile as you did so, holding her hand out for you this time, to help you up. Something she felt so grateful for, to feel you holding back. “No.” She sniffed. “Bastard.”

You threw your head back at her joke, eyes shining on hers as you laughed with her hand still in yours. And Robin beamed with pride banging in her chest.

She finally relaxed as she let you wash her face up. Blowing her nose a little disgustingly, but you didn’t seem to care. You stroked back her hair that was sticking to her cheeks with the water, before giving a smiling pout, knowing her tears and your wet cloth had kinda messed with her look. “Oh your pretty make up. I know I worked hard today on mine too.”

You made Robin shy, looking to the trash can before binning her tissue, pivoting a little on her feet with a burning smile. How long had you been doing and redoing your make up? Were you freaking out about what to wear like she was? Just for your date with her?

“Guess I’ll have to freshen up your make up for you, huh sweetheart?” You took Robin’s face in your hands, wiping your thumbs on the glowing parts of her cheeks where tears had rolled before. Robin nodded at your grin, loving that you were holding her face. And knowing you were hinting at touching it more, by doing her make up for her. “Yeah,” Robin started, finally feeling the flirty part of her beat the anxious one, as her hand stroked the back of your own affectionately. “I think I still feel all lightheaded from the fall, so...”

You wanted to kiss Robin right now. You’d tell her that, later, after your first kiss. You’d tell her all the times you wanted to kiss her beautiful face. But instead, you held yourself back by nodding. Gently squeezing her warm cheeks once more, before tilting her head closer to you and kissing her other cheek this time. “Okay then. And you’ve still got to tell me where you’re taking me on our date! I’ve been so excited since yesterday!”

Robin’s eyes widened. Finally clear enough to see you again, and so wonderstruck grateful at what she saw. God, she couldn’t wait to kiss you!

[kkpwnall]

wine & dine

or: the quickest way to a man’s heart (and parts beyond)

((edit: now on ao3))

[ @corrodedcoughin laid down a reverse uno card, and i am extremely susceptible to gentle persuasion. i know you asked for headcanons, but apparently i have lots of thoughts about eddie taking a cooking class to wine and dine steve so this one got a bit away from me. anyway, hope you like it, and hope your day got better. ]

“Shit!”

Steve’s steps up the trailer stairs falter when he hears Eddie’s shout. He balances a tray of cupcakes and a bouquet of red daisies in one hand and knocks on the door.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts again, followed by a loud banging and clanging.

“Eddie?” Steve knocks again. He’s been here often enough since they started dating that he knows he doesn’t have to knock, that he’s welcome to just walk right in. But it’s their date night, and he wants to do this right.

More banging, more clanging, more cursing. Then the alarm starts. That’s enough for Steve.

“Eddie!” He bursts through the door and skids to a stop halfway to the kitchenette. The trailer is full of smoke and Eddie is right in the middle of it, waving a dish towel in front of the screaming smoke detector. Steve drops the cupcakes and the flowers on the small kitchen table and grabs a flaming pan of… something off the burner, moving it to one of the empty burners further back on the range and cutting the gas.

Eddie gives up trying to fan the smoke away, and climbs up on the counter to rip the alarm out of the ceiling instead. Steve grabs his abandoned towel and flings open the kitchen window, fanning the smoke out as Eddie manages to get the thing off the ceiling without bringing the tiles crashing down on their heads.

He rips the batteries out of the back of it and turns to look at Steve, panting like he’s run a marathon. Eddie’s thighs are eye level with Steve, who has to drag his eyes up and away from his favorite gray sweatpants, the ones that always make him a little crazy, past the old sleeveless band shirt cropped above Eddie’s waist, to finally look up at him. Eddie’s curls are spilling loose from the bun he’d tied them up in, framing his flushed face and wild eyes.

“You’re early,” is all he says, looking Steve up and down. He suddenly feels over-dressed, standing there in the middle of the tiny kitchen with his maroon button down securely tucked into his best pressed khakis. He even wore the leather shoes with the little tassels on them.

Steve tugs self-consciously at his shirt and looks around the kitchen. “It’s date night,” he says simply. “Thought I'd see if you needed any help with dinner.”

It looks like Eddie’s used every dish in the house. Twice. He’s crouched on the kitchen counter now, looking like a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movements. Steve slowly reaches out a hand and tucks some of those stray curls behind Eddie’s ear. “Seems like you’ve got it handled though.”

Eddie sighs and flops down so he’s sitting on the counter. He puts his head in his hands and mumbles, “this isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here, you’re here, you made us…” he looks over at the softly smoldering pan, trying to figure out what exactly Eddie’s been making, “dinner? Sounds like the perfect date night to me.”

Eddie just groans and shakes his head, hiding behind his hands and his hair.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad, it’s only a little burnt. We can still salvage it.” He throws the towel on his shoulder, and unbuttons his cuffs, starts to roll up his sleeves. “What are we having?”

“Beef stroganoff,” Eddie mumbles through his hands.

“If you’re going for medium well, I think it’s done.”

Eddie just groans. “Steve…”

“Hey, hey,” Steve puts his hands on Eddie’s wrists, gently pulling them away from his face.

Eddie looks close to tears. Steve brushes Eddie’s bangs out of his eyes with one hand and cups his cheek with the other. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, I didn’t know you could cook like this. I thought we were gonna have Macaroni a la Eddie tonight.”

Eddie makes a face, and looks away, mumbling something so quietly, Steve wouldn’t have known he’d said anything if he didn’t see his lips move. Steve dodges down and around, trying to catch Eddie’s gaze again as he plays keep-away with his eyes.

“Didn’t catch that, Eds.”

Eddie sighs dramatically and half shouts, “I’ve been taking a cooking class down at the learning annex!”

“Oh…” that pulls Steve up short. That’s time, that’s effort, that’s… serious.

“The head chef at Enzo’s has a class every Thursday night, and it went fine when I made it there! I don’t know what happened tonight!”

“Well there’s your problem, you’ve got an Italian chef teaching you a German recipe.”

“Pretty sure it’s Russian, dude,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “And it’s not just Italian, she teaches a different recipe every week.”

“Ok so, let’s figure this out. Where’s the recipe?”

Eddie looks around and fishes out a slightly singed, very crumpled piece of paper from under the corner of the cutting board with a half-chopped onion on it. It’s less a recipe and more doodles and half-written thoughts in Eddie’s chicken-scratch. Some of the ingredients don’t even have a measurement next to them, just ‘brandy,’ ‘Worcestershire,’ ‘beef’. Nothing like how Steve bakes, with everything carefully measured out and plotted before he even starts mixing.

It also becomes rapidly apparent that Eddie doesn’t have half the ingredients the recipe calls for, as Eddie directs Steve from his perch on the counter, translating his hieroglyphic scrawl and making substitutions on the fly. But together they manage to cobble together something that might resemble a technical definition of beef stroganoff. It’s got beef at least, all the burnt parts scraped off, and noodles. Steve figures it’s close enough.

Eddie rinses out an old coffee grounds can to put the flowers in while Steve plates their dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches Eddie holding the bouquet to his nose, a soft smile on his face.

When they sit down at the scratched and dented and much-loved table, Eddie quickly scarfs down several bites. He chews thoughtfully and makes a face. Steve’s barely got the fork halfway to his mouth when Eddie whisks his plate away and throws the whole thing in the garbage can.

“Hey, I was eating that!”

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says fiercely. “You’re not getting poisoned tonight.”

Steve takes the bite on his fork defiantly and stares Eddie down as he chews. It’s somehow both over-cooked and underdone. He chews and chews and eventually swallows, and does not make a face.

Eddie stares back, hands on his hips, working his jaw back and forth. Steve twirls his fork in the air. “I came hungry tonight. I’ll eat it out of the trash can, don’t tempt me.”

He holds Eddie’s gaze for a beat longer, then he’s up and out of his chair, pivoting around Eddie like he’s on the basketball court. He just manages to stick his fork in the trash can before Eddie jumps on his back.

“At least let me get the plates out of there!”

“No!”

They wrestle for a few minutes, knocking things off the counter, and making a bigger mess than the one Steve walked in on tonight. Eddie grapples for his hands, but Steve’s arms are longer so he gives up and puts his hands over Steve’s eyes, making him stumble backwards into the refrigerator. The cereal boxes on top fall off as Eddie gives a small “ooft” and slides off his back.

Steve whirls around and pins Eddie to the fridge with his hands on his hips. His lips find Eddie’s and he kisses him fiercely, already breathless. Eddie holds out for a moment, just for a beat, then he winds his arms around Steve’s shoulders and sinks his hands into Steve’s hair with a deep sigh. His mouth parts and Steve deepens the kiss, titling his head just so, tongues brushing, hot, desperate, feverish. He drags his hands slowly up Eddie’s waist, toying with the raw edge of his cropped shirt, thumbing over his ribs. Just as slowly, he drags his hands back down, plucking at the waistband of those stupid sweatpants. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along Eddie’s jaw, down his neck. He drags his tongue over Eddie’s collarbone and scrapes his teeth over the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Why have you been taking cooking classes?” Steve breathes into his neck, trailing his nose back up under his ear.

“Don’t make me say it…” Eddie says with a groan.

“Eddie…” He sinks his teeth into Eddie’s pulse point, and soothes the bite with his tongue.

Eddie growls, he actually growls. Steve feels it rumble from Eddie’s throat under his lips as Eddie gently tugs on his hair in frustration. It sends a thrill of electricity straight down Steve’s spine, making him press closer. “Because I wanted to learn how to make fancy recipes for you! You deserve better than box mac and cheese!”

Steve pulls back, just slightly, just enough to see Eddie’s eyes, just enough so Eddie knows he’s serious.

“I love box mac and cheese. Especially when you cut up the little hotdogs to put in it? With the hot sauce? That’s what makes it Macaroni a la Eddie.”

“You’re Steve Harrington,” Eddie says desperately, “you deserve to be wined and dined. And I—”

“Hey,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hips in his hands, shaking them gently. “You’re Eddie Munson, if anyone deserves to be wined and dined it’s you. I’ll get dressed up and take you out every night. Candlelight, roses, you name it.” He can’t resist, doesn’t even try to resist, diving back in for another kiss, gently dancing his fingers from Eddie’s hips to his waist, then smoothing them back down. “I’ll hold your hand and shout about it from the rooftops. ‘I’m dating Eddie Munson and we’re more in love than you’ll ever be!’”

“Always a competition with you jocks,” Eddie rolls his eyes and grouches, but his tone is fond.

“It is, and I’m winning.” Steve pecks a kiss on Eddie’s nose.

Eddie catches his lips, draws him back down for another kiss. It’s less frantic but just as heated. Until Steve’s stomach growls and Eddie breaks away laughing.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I came hungry,” Steve laughs, pressing his forehand against Eddie’s.

“Yeah, well… sorry I messed up dinner. I think my cheffing days are over. Glad you like box macaroni, ‘cause that’s all we’re having from here on out.”

“No way,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I just got used to fancy home cooking, I need to taste your other recipes. And you need a sous chef.”

Eddie looks at him skeptically. “Steve, I almost burnt down the trailer tonight, you really want to try that again?”

“Absolutely,” Steve says immediately, kissing him lightly again.

Eddie still doesn’t look convinced though, so Steve says, “let’s make a deal, ok? You can experiment as much as you want in the kitchen, try anything at any time, as long as you let me help. And, if it’s truly inedible, which I do not for a single second believe is possible, I’ll buy us a pizza. Deal?”

Eddie’s eyes flick between both of Steve’s as he thinks it over. He bites his lip and nods. “Deal.”

“Good,” Steve kisses him again, sealing the deal. He pulls Eddie away from the fridge and nudges him towards his bedroom with a wink. “Go get changed, we’ve got a date tonight.”

Eddie laughs, “what, you don’t like the sweatpants?”

“I love the sweatpants,” Steve says with feeling. “Which is why you need to get changed right now. Otherwise I won’t be able to keep my hands off you for the rest of our date.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a cheeky wink of his own.

Steve playfully slaps at his ass and starts looking for the phone book. “The Works?”

“No olives,” Eddie reminds him.

“Extra olives, got it,” Steve says, picking up the phone.

Eddie sticks his tongue out at him, backing away towards his room.

Steve quickly dials the number and fumbles through the order. They’ve got at least thirty minutes before the delivery shows up. If he hurries, maybe he can take those sweatpants off with his teeth.

[whynotimtired]

Something something S4 shows through Nancy how someone can be pressured into a relationship by well meaning people, how easy it is to project your significant other onto someone familiar when they're gone, something something Nancy only started giving Steve eyes during situations he reminded her of key moments in her relationship with Jonathan, how you could see all over her face that she was going to reject him, how the audiences emotions are lined up with Steve and not her and the fact that Steve wants a girlfriend so badly means the audience wants him to have a girlfriend too bc he deserves it ! He's grown so he can do better this time ! She CAN love him ! Look ! The people who just officially met them this week think they're true love ! But Nancy is in love with Jonathan. But Steve wants a white picket fence life at the end of a cul-de-sac with 6 children, which Nancy said herself is like her worst nightmare. But Steve was never the problem in their relationship. Nancy didn't love him. Nancy is not a prize. He doesn't deserve her for changing. And the people trying to matchmake them DO NOT KNOW BOTH PARTIES WELL. Robin JUST officially started talking to Nancy, all she really has to go off of is whatever Steve has told her and EDDIE met BOTH OF THEM officially like three days ago. All he knows is their reputations really, and that "act of true love" was entirely typical of Nancy's character and she would've done it for just about anyone she cares about, he doesn't know that though because he doesn't know her. And she ended the season in her bf's arms setting up their conflict in s5 while Steve ended the season alone but with his friends.

[imavikingo]

Everything Steve Grant Rogers knew about love was heartbreak and loss.

First it was Molly from second grade, Susan from his english class in seventh grade followed her, after that it was Michael and Jonathan from his figure drawing class.

Of course not all of them were of romantic love.

When he was told of his fathers death, that broke him a little too, It was more manageable because it happened before he was born.

And then… his mother took her last breath alone in an hospital bed, and that was the worst pain he could endure in his life, or that was he thought at the time anyway.

No.

The worst pain of his life was losing Bucky and keep losing him every damn time, no matter what he did and no matter the circumstances.

First it was losing him in the arms of pretty dames with soft voices and softer lips, then to the war when he was finally drafted.

When he knew of his status as missing, of course he got to him without a second thought of doing stupid things like wasting time for backup or approval.

It was imperative the speed of his rescue mission, Buckys life was on the line and Steve wouldn’t sacrifice him for stupid and unnecessary rules.

Without Bucky there is no Steve Rogers after all, not a sane one anyway.

The train incident made him break completely at last and he couldn’t take it anymore.

They didn’t even let him go looking for Bucky.

How dare they?

At least that way he could’ve gotten a little bit of closure, but no.

The missions were more important of course.

Of course….

When the opportunity of sinking the Valkyrie was presented to him on a silver platter, he just took it without hesitation.

At last, he could be reunited with Bucky and the endless cycle of heartbreak could end.

.

.

.

Of course that wasn’t what happened, of course that couldn’t be his end.

[forcedhesitation]

this undeniably has to be one of the worst opinions I've seen about this season. like out of the plentiful failures season 4 had... you really couldn't choose one to talk about? max's mental health was one of the only things that I felt season 4 handled pretty damn well.

I do think it could have been better written, yes. the ending of her arc in season 4 was....insulting at best.

but overall? the show does a great job of addressing that max actually hated billy (she literally fucking admits to wishing for his death) and that her grief is more complicated than just missing a person. because she wasn't missing a person! she was ultimately glad billy was gone. but even in death, he torments her.

she watched a person she grew up with be brutally murdered by some fleshy abomination, RIGHT in front of her. her shitbag step father bailed on her and her mother after billy died, forcing them to move to the trailer park. her mother abuses alcohol and is never home because she's always working so they can afford to live in the trailer park. her friend group has been split in two by the byers moving away, which took el away from her too. she doesn't know how to reach out to lucas, deep down doesn't feel she deserves his love & concern, despite lucas' best efforts (vecna literally taunts her with lucas turning on her at the final confrontation). she wished so badly to have someone like steve in billy, but she knows that billy would never be that person. he was the complete opposite & she can't just have steve in his place. she mourns the brother she never had. she is devastated by the way billy still hurts her, even after he's gone.

she's what. fourteen??? when this all happens?

like the death of an abuser is never so simple as "hooray! I am so very joyous now that the source of my pain is gone!" the damage an abuser inflicts on you is not some cut to the skin that can be healed and one day forgotten. it's so much more tortuous than that. especially for a child.

[emberglowfox]

(he has never seen a single episode of stranger things)

[flowercrowngods]

in which steve is sick, eddie is in love, and floor time is being had

Eddie is in the kitchen when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. The smile is on his face before he even turns around to catch a glimpse of Steve, gloriously disheveled from all that sleep he’s been catching up on. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s big, fuzzy sweaters that Steve always hogs when he’s sick — which, thankfully, isn’t all that often —, a thick pair of sweats and mismatched socks.

Sickness is the time to wear mismatched socks without judgment, Edwin Munswin, Steve had huffed the first time Eddie saw him with a runny nose and ridiculous socks that definitely didn’t belong together. It had been the first time he admitted to himself that he was absolutely gone for Steve Runny Nose Harrington.

And so it doesn’t come as a surprise to him that his heart stumbles in his chest and the smile on his lips widens. Steve might hate being sick, but Eddie can’t really help but love him even more when he gets like this. When Steve allows himself to be a little weak and for Eddie to take care of him.

“Hi, sunshine,” Eddie says, turning down the heat on the stove to go over to his Stevie, wrapping his arms around the blanket Steve still has around his shoulders. “Sleep well?”

“Mmh.” It’s nothing more than a raspy grunt, a pathetic little noise as Steve cuddles further into Eddie, seeking out his warmth and comfort so freely that Eddie presses a kiss to his slightly sweaty forehead. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he promises, running a hand up and down Steve’s back. “Just made you tea while the soup is warming up. Because you’re gonna have to eat.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, sounding solemn as he does, and Eddie wants to laugh. Gods, he’s so in love, it’s disgusting. Ridiculous. Absolutely laughable. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” A whisper, another promise, another kiss. He unwinds his arms and looks back at the giant pot of soup he made yesterday. “Do you wanna go back to bed or stay here?”

“Here,” Steve sighs and promptly sinks down the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Eddie with those beautiful brown eyes, so big and and full of love that Eddie can’t resist ruffling his hair, which earns him a little giggle from Steve.

Oh, right, he’s had the good stuff prescribed from the doctor. This is going to be fun in a few hours.

“You ridiculous man,” Eddie murmurs, trailing his hand from the crown of Steve’s head down across his cheek all the way to his chin in a gentle caress.

“Go back to your soup, you most ridiculous of men,” Steve says in retaliation, but he reaches for his hand to hold as Eddie returns to the stove.

“Technically it’s your soup.”

“That’s what I said.” Eddie looks down to see the most adorable of frowns on Steve’s head, and his heart explodes a little in his chest.

He snorts and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Sure is, baby.”

“See? I’m smart sometimes.”

“No argument from me there,” Eddie says, and he means it.

A hum comes from Steve and then he leans his head against Eddie’s leg. “You’re so nice to me, Eds. I like that you’re nice to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then it’s quiet, and the weight of Steve against his leg becomes heavier by the second to the point where Eddie is pretty sure Steve’s fallen asleep again. He doesn’t dare to move, but dear God he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to scream at the world how much he loves this ridiculous, adorable, possibly delirious and high on cold medication man who is wrapped in his blanket on their kitchen floor.

“Stevie,” he whispers at last, the soup hot, the tea just cool enough, and cards his hand through Steve’s hair to wake him. “Sunshine, wake up, I have soup for you.”

“Soup?”

“Soup.”

“But I love soup.”

“Then I have great news for you,” Eddie laughs and tilts Steve’s head up so he’ll meet his eyes. “It’s plenty, it’s warm, and you can have some. It’s right here.”

“You made me soup?”

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie chuckles, his heart tearing itself apart at the way Stevie looks up at him with such wonder and awe and love. “I made you so much soup. All for you.”

Steve nods, thinks for a moment and then looks up at Eddie again. “Can we share?”

“You wanna share your soup with me?” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s on eye level with Steve and can brush a kiss to his forehead again.

Steve nods again and reaches for him, clinging to Eddie’s sweater — well, it’s Steve’s technically. “Wanna share everything with you.“

“Even your blanket?”

Steve smiles and nods again, lifting one arm to invite Eddie in, which earns him a laugh. “Alright, let me just…”

He grabs two bowls of soup, Steve’s large mug of tea, two spoons and two pillows from their chairs so they can eat the soup on the floor without uncomfortable heat in their laps.

Later, when soup is but a distant memory of half an hour ago, Steve lets himself fall to the side and slumps into Eddie, head nestled on his shoulder.

“Sleep time again?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Steve slurs, definitely already on his way to half asleep. “Just. Just love you.”

Eddie hums and leans into Steve in return, warm underneath their blanket, surprisingly comfortable on the floor, backs against the counter. “Just love you, too, sunshine.”

And if Eddie closes his eyes, too, lulled into a sleepy state of comfort and warmth, then that’s just one more thing that happens with a sick Steve around.

In sickness and in health, he thinks with that same smile on his lips.

for @seidenbros, i besmooch your forehead with this 🌷🤍

[slutabed]

18+ - ch. 3 preview: "He Carries the Reminders" from Where the Ragged People Go

...all of a sudden, Steve seems to want his title back. 

It’s ridiculous, and Robin nearly snorts beer out of her nose laughing in her haste to remind him what a dork he truly is. Jonathan grins and chimes in about how far King Steve has fallen off of his throne, and how it’d be pretty tough to sit back up there with a broken ass and no crown.

But Steve is grinning wildly, all shining lights in his eyes and just a flush of red high up on his cheeks, looking every bit the golden captain of the basketball team he’d been even during his team’s losing streak. 

“If Munson wants my title,” he says to the room at large, passing Eddie another beer and grabbing one for himself, “he’s gonna have to fight me for it.”

Blood swims in diametric streams throughout Eddie’s body, half rushing to his face and half rushing south to what could become a dangerously embarrassing situation if he doesn’t get a fucking grip soon. 

Fight Steve? Eddie could die from one knock-out punch and be satisfied, if it means Steve gets his hands on him. 

But while Eddie is busy trying to shove his horny brain back into his mental closet, Steve pulls a multitool out of his back pocket and flips the knife open. 

“I’m assuming you have one of your own?” Steve asks, entirely too calm for this shit, as if it’s completely normal to – what, invite Eddie to a fucking knife fight in his living room? 

Eddie blinks and does the only thing he can think of while he fumbles for the switchblade he keeps in his pocket: he runs his fucking mouth. 

“Aw, so it was just a knife in your pocket after all, huh, Harrington? I thought you were just happy to see me.”

Robin and Jonathan boo him from their respective seats while Steve rolls his eyes, grabs Eddie’s collar and hauls him to his feet. 

“If you’re too chickenshit to shotgun for the title, Munson, just say it,” Steve croons before shanking a hole into the side of his beer can, popping the top, bringing the hole to his mouth and sucking, hard. 

“Oh shit.” 

[cowboyhorsegirl]

Steve is most likely to end up in a lavender marriage and Tony's most likely to end up in a “married for tax/immigration/inheritance fraud” reasons.

They meet as married men and pine for each other hardcore and are also trying not to read too much into how their interest seems reciprocated and oh nooooo both Immigration/the IRS and the the Church/in-laws/DADT era army dudes or whatever are snooping around at the same time at each of their marriages and they have to be so good at being married at the people they are married to oh noooooo and they other guy doesn’t know why they are suddenly being iced out and maybe they were just imagining things? maybe it’s for the best with all these eyes around on them…

[delta-piscium]

WIP wordsearch game!

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

thaaank you @sidekick-hero for the tag <3 <3

my words: fine, bed, slow, blink, nose

Fine:

“In my defense, you have very nice hands,” Steve tells him shrugging. 

Eddie whips around turning his full attention on Steve, eyes gleaming. “And what exactly about my hands do you find so nice?”

And like always, Steve gets pulled right in. “They’re pretty, makes me wonder what they’d look like-”

Robin very loudly clears her throat interrupting him. And okay, fine, Steve can’t really blame her. 

Bed:

And it’s such a mistake, Eddie thinks as Steve pushes him down onto the bed and intertwines their hands. Fucks into him slowly and deeply. Makes Eddie see stars and gasp for air. Makes him desperately dig his nails in and hold on tighter.

It’s such a mistake because Steve Harrington doesn’t make it quick and dirty. He doesn’t push Eddie’s face away and into the pillows to chase his own pleasure. 

No, Steve makes love and Eddie can’t. 

Slow:

“I’m still mad,” Eddie says against Steve’s lips as he backs him up against a wall.

“I know,” Steve breathes out.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” he speaks against his jaw, in between slow kisses and sharp bites.

“Yet,” Steve can’t stop himself from adding.

Blink:

Steve smiles, doesn’t take the bait, “wouldn’t you like to know, sweetheart.”

There’s a flash of shock on Eddie’s face, his eyes widening and lips parting. Steve hasn’t used pet names for him before. He blinks twice before seeming to collect himself and smirking at Steve.

“Careful princess, talk like that and I’m gonna make some assumptions.” 

Nose:

He falls backward, sliding down some of the hill. He closes his eyes and brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He takes two deep breaths before opening his eyes again and when he does he’s looking up at someone. They’re bent over him with a bright grin on their face.

“Careful there, it’s slippery,” Eddie Munson says. 

Eddie Munson, who Steve hasn’t seen in over four years. 

some of these I had completely forgotten about so this was great for reminding me that I actually have stuff written and not just ideas floating around. No pressure at all but tagging @outpastthebrakers @scarcrossdlvrs @ghost--enthusiast @corrodedbisexual @scoops-stevie @wynnyfryd

your words: laugh, wear, sleep, look, thigh

(why was coming up with words the hardest part of this)