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snippetsnitch · 3 months

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(lmao, I'm back again and I won't even try to make promises I can't keep 😂 Many thanks to @kaiwewi who added me in the masterlist of @the-modern-typewriter for hero/villain blogs! 🥰 I think I can speak for all the inactive and partially active people when I say: We are very touched that people see our small contributions and think of us... It really means a lot. 🥰🙏🏻 So, please enjoy this snippet and have a good time. 😄)

#13 – Shame

Can I ask you something, [Villain]?

– Um.. Sure, what is it?

How did you end up working for [Supervillain]? You must've known that they were evil, haven't you? So what in the world brought you there?

– ...

Jesus, who cares about that, [Sidekick]? They've done more than enough to show us that we can trust them. Hey, [Villain], you don't have to share things you don't wanna talk about, okay?

– I..- Um, thank you, [Hero]...

"You know, [Sidekick] was right", [Villain] said, their eyes fixated on the ground. They had sat down next to [Hero] a few minutes ago, feeling the cool summer breeze that grazed their own skin and the one of their new teammate. "I've known all along."

[Hero] looked at their former foe in confusion. "What do you mean?", they asked, turning towards them.

"I knew who [Supervillain] was", [Villain] said with a hollow voice, "...What they did."

[Hero] frowned. "[Villain] you don't have to talk about this, if you don't want to. [Sidekick] shouldn't have said that an-"

"But they were right", [Villain] interrupted, "I must've known who they were and I did. I knew who they were. I knew everything and I joined them regardless."

[Villain] pulled their knees closer, resting their chin on them. Their expression became distant as they started talking: "You know, before I joined [Supervillain], my life was a mess. I grew up in a world that didn't have any mercy for weaklings or outsiders like me. I was hurt, angry and alone and I wanted nothing more than to be with someone who actually liked me. I wanted to belong somewhere... I wanted that feeling you and your friends experienced every day and seemingly took as a given."

[Hero] suppressed the urge to say something. They had not at all expected this kind of talk from their former enemy – especially not with them. Still, they nodded seriously to encourage [Villain] to keep talking. It seemed to work:

"I... I didn't even know that I was searching for something. I didn't know how desperately I wanted to feel needed... Useful, you know?", [Villain] let out a trembling sigh. They closed their eyes before they continued: "I didn't know that, but [Supervillain] did. It was easy for them to bait me with the interest they showed in me and my abilities. I knew that what they did was wrong, but I-.. I just thought if I worked hard enough for them, then at least someone would see something in me... That I could-", [Villain] pressed their eyes together as tears started to spill,

"Oh, Villain...", [Hero] murmured softly. They reached out to gently touch the other one's shoulder, but [Villain] pulled away.

"Don't." [Villain] whispered and wiped their tears away. They took a deep breath. Their face had hardened into a blank mask when they continued:

"[Hero], I don't deserve the place you offer me. I don't deserve to be in your and the team's presence. I don't deserve the kindness you gave me since I came here. I'm not worth-"

"[Villain], stop." [Hero] had put a warm hand on [Villains] wet cheek. The softness of the gesture startled [Heros] new partner who looked at them with wide eyes. [Hero] managed a small smile before pulling [Villain] into a warm embrace.

"Don't say things like that. You're here, because you did what was right. You came to us and helped us out, because you knew what [Supervillain] does is wrong. Because you couldn't bear it. That says a lot about you as a person.", [Hero] gave [Villain] a small squeeze before letting go. They put their hands on [Villains] face again and smiled as they locked eyes with their former enemy.

"You did some bad things and you need to take on responsibility for that, but you won't have to do that alone. You are with us now and we will support you, okay?"

[Villain] shook their head in confusion. "H-How can you take me in... Just like that?", they whispered while new tears stained their face and [Heros] fingers, "How could anyone possibly want me after I what I've done?"

To that, [Hero] knew the answer.

"I can, because I like you. Because we like you, [Villain]. Because you're worth staying and because you have good inside of you... Because you chose the light, even though your life was set up for darkness." [Hero] said warmly. They smiled at [Villains] unbelieving expression, before embracing them once again.

"...One day, you will see that, too."

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ride-a-dromedary · 5 months

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The thing I love about the Orin kidnappings is that all of her imitated companion voices are a *fraction* higher and reedier/unbalanced and than their regular voices - I think that's a neat detail as a give away. Just subtle enough that you might not be able to spot it right away, but jarring enough that you can tell something is different right off the bat.

#BG3 Musing #also dave jones delivering that 'bellyfull of orphan flesh' with the little titter of a laugh SIR I AM GOING TO THROTTLE YOU #Aside from Halsin who's voice is already very deep and therefore you can tell very easily when it jumps up an octave #the other three are so subtle you might miss it but if you listen closely it's evident the VA's are pitching on the higher end #excellent little detail #also 'halsin' is the only one who is crying throughout so his voice sounds more choked and stuffed up and minty sounds terrified #halsin is also just a whimpering mess like a kicked dog and gale sounds like he's *mad* with it #excellent voice over performances bravo 👏#the orin kidnaps are so ripe for angst exploration

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coconut530 · 6 months

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a bride blighted by blood becomes a beast

#Blue Eye Samurai #6 #Hi hello everyone so episode 5. Messed Me Up #As it did with everyone I think #It was so dang beautiful and expertly crafted and thought out like come on #The angst of like Mizu getting stabbed in their stories (stop hurting themmmmm)#The puppet show #Seeing their mom and meeting Mikio #The tenderness of Mizu and Mikio #Their SPAR WAS SO BADASS #MIZU GETTING OUT FROM UNDER THE DOOR AND TRANSFORMING THEIR SWORD #THEM TRYING TO PLEASE MIKIO ONE LAST TIME AND THEN FIGHTING THE MEN GETTING BLOOD ALL OVER THEIR WHITE KIMONO AND SMUDGING THE MAKEUP #HOW IT ALL ENDED!?!?#LIKE THIS SERIES DESERVES 700 EMMYS AND OSCARS FOR THIS EPISODE ALONE #I LOVE IT SO MUCH #GAHHHHHHHHH #anyways take this art I couldn’t resist smudgy makeup and blood-soaked kimono #it actually turned out so cool what the heck their face looks real #Just go watch Blue Eye Samurai if you can like for this episode alone #💙

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agentark · 11 months

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live look at me bringing Beckett to the coroner's office, failing the stat check to get the doctor talking, BUT getting whisperings of ass kicking B:

#b: *imagining breaking the laptop*#me (sitting on their shoulder): do it #I truly accidentally keep messing up the stat checks for the coroner but it's ok because these have been some of my fave moments #fumbling another stat check: ugh whatever shall I do - enjoy my friend sticking up for me? oh no 😈#me @ b after that scene: aren't you tired of being nice? don't you just want to go apeshit?#rubbing my hands together like a scheming c-grade villain #until I remember the state I left B in at the end of book 1 and the confirmed angst incoming #you know what's scarier than whatever is going on in Fernweh? B being upset with MC #me: haha ooh I can't wait to see angry B it's going to be so in- wait 🤐#fernweh saga #fernweh saga spoilers #b 'do no harm but take no shit' warrick

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thebookworm0001 · 2 months

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Did not realize that accepting Bhaal gives you the ability to cast Power Word Kill

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #the dark urge #bg3 spoilers #made Rey accept him for the angst of an end where she’s Bhaal’s chosen and astarion is ascended #they’re a terrifying murder couple #so she has the slayer form now #and the ability to cast that spell one time #so gonna save it for the elder brain obviously #but that’s freaky #also ascended astarion’s kisses are. messed up #very well executed but damn do they show just how unhealthy that relationship is

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grapesodatozier · 1 year

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apologies as always for how incoherent I get when talking about mileven lmao but I’m having thoughts about them again and how important mike is to el, and how consistently there for her he is, and how that plays into st4 vol 2 especially.

as soon as mike meets her, he’s listening to her. he doesn’t tell her it’s weird when she says no to closing the door, he finds an in between and asks her if it’s okay with her before walking away. he spends 353 days listening for her, and reminding her that he’s there for her whenever she’s ready. he listens in s3 and thinks over what she said, and even in the midst of all this when she’s hurting or in trouble he shows up for her and defends her against flayed billy and holds her when it’s over and she’s exhausted, then apologizes and encourages her to be her own person and pursue what makes her happy, while making clear that he wants to be there with her when she does. he pays attention, and he remembers what happened when el turned herself to dust to save them all in s1 so he stands up for her in s3 when she won’t stand up for herself bc no one else there (except lucas, who also comes through for el in a big way) understands what el has been through and how far she’ll push herself for others bc she feels like it’s all on her. mike again is there for her in s4, crossing half the country to prove that he’ll always be there for her.

and to me that’s the crux of his speech to her. el’s series-long arc, to me, is about guilt and feeling solely responsible and alone. so it’s so powerful to me that she tells brenner he’s at fault, not her, and at the end of that she has mike right there, who led a multi-day, endless search across the desert for her, showing her she’s never doing anything alone anymore. but, naturally, when faced with the stress of seeing max being hurt, she slips back into the guilt and gets incredibly overwhelmed (especially bc she has henry constantly blaming her), so what helps her get through is mike. and to me it’s not even really about the “I love you,” to me it’s about the “I’m right here” and the “i can’t lose you” and “I need you to fight.” that’s what it’s always been about. when el is faced with all this pressure and is falling back into that place where she thinks it’s all on her, when she’s feeling powerless and alone and immense guilt, mike is there to say “this is not all on you, I’m right here, I’m always gonna be right here, you’re never alone in doing this anymore.” and to me, that’s what that scene is all about. he says I can’t fight this the way you can but I’m here for you and I always will be. please come back to me. and she does! she always comes back to him like he always comes back to her 💕

there’s a beautiful children’s book I love about grief, and in it one of the characters has a huge block she has to drag around, and her new friend comes up to her and asks her to hang out, and she says “maybe tomorrow?” bc she doesn’t feel she can move the block or let go of it. and over the course of the book, the new friend keeps coming back, and listens, and helps the grieving character pull the block until she can talk about her grief, and the block gets smaller. it doesn’t go away, and it’s still hers, but her new friend helps her with it and stays with her and it gets smaller. and it just makes me cry all the time bc like…that’s what love is!!!!

and that’s what mike does for el. el has gone through so much terrible shit, but mike is always there to listen to her and help her carry it. he never stops waiting for her, he never stops writing to her, he never stops looking for her, he’s always there at the end of each season to listen to her.

and we hear from mike that el still thinks it’s all her fault, but she told mike she feels that way!! that is a huge step!! even if she does still feel solely responsible at this incredibly low point, she knows that she can share that feeling with mike. a part of her knows she’s not alone even in the moments she feels most alone bc mike always shows up for her and listens to her. when visiting max in the hospital, el leans on mike. even in her darkest moments of isolation and guilt, she knows instinctively that she can lean on mike.

and that’s where their relationship is for me. in every single time they say to each other, “I’m here.”

#god i love them so much do you understand how much I love them #st said healing is not linear and mike will be there to weather every up and down with her #yeah they’ll mess it up sometimes bc they’re both traumatized kids but in the end they’re always gonna be there for each other #mileven #st4 #grief tw #angst cw #abuse mention

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steddio · 1 year

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steddie, 3.4k, rated E, also on ao3

Eddie is three quarters of the way through their set, lost in the heat of performance, soaked in sweat from the stage lights, when he spots a glimpse of yellow near the bar. He almost stumbles over a chord, because surely that can’t be… But that yellow sweater is seared into the back of his eyelids. He’s seen it a dozen times on a bedroom floor, in the backseat of a car, and clinging to the shoulders of—.

Shaking himself, Eddie recovers and tries to refocus on the music. He loses himself again in the indulgence of performing, of hiding in plain sight, embodying the cool, rockstar persona that still feels like role playing but is more and more the foundation of his livelihood. Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, Rolling Stone’s up and coming band of the year. No matter that most of the time he still feels like a scared teenager hiding in a rusty old boat from high school bullies and small town mobs. It’s hard to regret leaving that life behind. And yet there are still moments, in between the gigs and interviews and photo shoots, when Eddie has spent far too long sitting on a tour bus, when he’s itching out of his skin and oh so lonely. When he remembers what it was like to be seen, and not just observed.

As the last note meets the roar of the crowd, Eddie lets his eyes wander, soaking it in. This dream that he’s made a reality, this second chance life he built for himself. His eyes catch again on a splash of yellow and, trailing up a freckled neck that he’s kissed and bruised a thousand times, meet the only eyes that have ever seen him.

In a blur he somehow gets off the stage, and winds his way past congratulatory pats on the shoulder to the bar. Steve is leaning against it, cooler than cool, his perfect hair unruffled, a smile playing around his lips. Eddie can’t even look at him, his heart beating so loudly in his chest it drowns out all other sounds. He thinks Steve says something but he catches none of it, instead waving down the bartender for a shot of whiskey. And then a second.

With liquid courage beating back the adrenaline in his veins, Eddie turns to look Steve in the eye. The smile is gone, replaced by a faint look of concern and worse, fear. Of rejection? As if Steve could ever be unwelcome in Eddie’s life. He clears his throat.

“Hi Stevie baby.”

Steve’s eyes soften, and the smirk is back.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Eddie’s stomach is swooping, his mouth dry despite the whiskey.

“You looked great up there,” Steve says, tentatively reaching out a hand to touch Eddie’s arm, before catching himself and pulling back. “I can’t believe—”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie interrupts. Steve’s smirk disappears. He bites his lip, eyes downcast.

“I didn’t know you guys were playing, really. I was just here with—.” His eyes glance to the hallway with the bathrooms. “Well anyway it was a surprise, but a good one.” He looks up, an unmistakeable glint of mischief in his eyes that makes Eddie’s breath catch.

“Seeing you in eyeliner and leather pants is definitely being added to my list of favorite sights.”

And Eddie has no defense for this, for the Steve he fell for and bled for and loved. Before he can stop himself, he’s falling back on old habits, “Well, baby, maybe we need to add eyeliner and no pants to that list.”

The mischief in Steve’s eyes is eclipsed by naked want, the intensity of which takes Eddie by surprise. Steve shouldn’t want him. Not like this, not at all, not when Eddie left him, alone in Indiana, breaking both their hearts in the process. But Eddie is a weak man. He would do anything to feel wanted, anything for Steve to look at him like he’s looking now, eyes dark and mouth parted.

He leans in, and puts the final nail in his coffin: “Want to come sightseeing backstage?”

Steve is nodding, and Eddie is taking his hand and they’re running (why are they running) into Eddie’s dressing room, breathless and laughing. The door shuts behind them and suddenly they’re too close, there’s no air between them, and Eddie is kissing Steve, pushing him back against the wall. Eddie is kissing Steve and Steve is kissing back, making breathy noises that Eddie wants, needs, to hear more of.

Steve’s hands are in Eddie’s hair, on his hips, on his ass pulling him closer, and Eddie is singly focused on getting that yellow sweater off and on his dressing room floor, another image to be forever imprinted in his mind. Eddie sinks to his knees, pulling Steve’s jeans down with him, mouthing at his hardening cock, soaking his boxers with spit. Steve, above him, is shaking, repeating Eddie’s name like a prayer even though it’s Eddie on his knees, Eddie who is at worship.

As Eddie takes him into his mouth, Steve’s hands are gentle and tender in his hair and the wild thing inside Eddie rears its head.

“Use me, baby,” Eddie pleads, watching Steve’s eyes widen and darken further. “Take your pleasure. Fuck my mouth.”

Steve is hesitant at first, but when his fingers pull at Eddie’s hair and Eddie lets out a sinful groan, mouth vibrating around Steve’s cock, Steve lets go, fucking into Eddie’s mouth eagerly. Eddie just hangs on, gripping familiar muscled thighs, choking on spit that has never tasted sweeter.

“Eddie, sweetheart, I’m gonna—”

Eddie only grips harder, encouraging Steve as he bruises the back of his throat, needing more than anything to have a bit of Steve inside him, needing to fill the void created when he left a beautiful boy behind in Hawkins.

“Eddie, oh fuck, I’m coming,” Steve bites out and Eddie drinks it all down, feeling Steve pulse in his mouth. He rests his head against Steve’s hip, eyes closed, breathing shakily, listening to Steve’s racing heartbeat.

“Did I hurt you?” Steve is all concern and tenderness, running his fingers down Eddie’s cheek and neck and shoulder. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

For a moment Eddie can’t breathe, he’s choking on the affection freely given, when he doesn’t… doesn’t deserve this kind of softness. He is a dark creature, too sharp, hard edges that break things. That break hearts and leave people behind and deserve roughness and not this, this gentleness. This devotion.

“Turn around,” he grits out. And before Steve can voice his confusion, Eddie is towering above him, flipping him so his chest is to the wall and Eddie is pressed against Steve’s back, hard length digging into him. Eddie grinds against him once, wrapping a hand around Steve’s throat, drinking in the whimpers and gasps Steve seems unaware of making.

“Hold still,” Eddie challenges, before he’s back on his knees, face buried between Steve’s cheeks, lapping sloppily. Eddie loses himself in the taste and feel of Steve, getting him messy and dripping, covering Steve in his spit, in him. He circles his thumb around the rim, feeling Steve jerk before relaxing. He pushes in his index finger to the second knuckle, then deeper.

“That’s it, let me in, baby, you’re opening so sweetly for me.” Eddie adds a second finger, relishing each gasp and moan and whimper that Steve lets out.

“You’re being so good for me baby, holding so still.” Steve is practically shaking with the effort to not grind back on his fingers.

“Eddie, please, I—“ Steve begs.

“I know what you need, angel. You’ll get it, just take one more finger, there you go baby.” Eddie has three fingers deep in Steve, rings catching on his stretched rim, Steve breathing hard like he’s just run a marathon.

Eddie withdraws slowly, standing to his full height. He is so, so hard, cock straining against the ridiculously tight leather pants he insisted on wearing. And well, they did get him here, pressed up against the source of every wet dream he’s had for the last decade. With one hand he pulls himself out, leaking and aching and needy. With the other, he reaches around to find Steve in a similar state. Both desperate for each other.

“Eddie,” Steve whines.

“I know baby, I know you’re so empty,” Eddie teases, licking a long stripe up the side of Steve’s neck before sucking a hickey there. Marking him.

“I got you,” he whispers, falling off the hard edge he’d been balancing on, into the residual softness of first love, of summer evenings, of slow kisses and talks of forever. He catches himself before he can get too far, slamming himself into Steve in a fluid motion, to the hilt. Steve moans, egging Eddie on as he withdraws and drives in again, and again, pressing himself deep into Steve, hips flush against Steve’s ass, teeth against his neck and shoulder, hands gripping his hips so tight they will inevitably leave bruises.

Eddie loses himself in that tight, wet heat. It feels like coming home, so much better than the quick fucks he had on tour, unsatisfying orgasms that don’t hold a candle to this, to the slapping of skin on skin, to Steve’s hands braced against the wall, pushing them closer together. It’s not enough, Eddie knows. Never enough.

Keeping one hand on Steve’s hip for leverage, Eddie closes the other around Steve’s throat. They’re so close now Eddie is grinding more than thrusting, hitting that spot inside Steve relentlessly, bringing them both to the brink. Steve is gasping Eddie’s name and Eddie can’t help but do the same.

“Stevie, baby, you feel so good. So good for me,” he mumbles into Steve’s neck, hips nearly losing their rhythm as his pleasure builds. “Are you going to come for me baby? Come on my cock?”

Steve is nodding, gasping, breathless, Eddie’s hand tightening around his throat, his other moving from Steve’s hip to his swollen and leaking cock.

“That’s it baby, let go for me.” With a gasp, Steve comes, covering Eddie’s hand and the wall of the dressing room. Eddie presses in deep one, two more times before he’s following Steve, pumping into him, mouth against his neck, pressed close against his back.

There is a moment of afterglow before reality crashes into Eddie like a train wreck.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, you’re filthy now, let me find a towel,” anxiety running his mouth, hands waving everywhere, unsure where to begin to fix the mess he made. Steve is slumped against the wall, breathing quietly. He winces as Eddie slips out of him, turning to meet Eddie’s gaze. His expression is hard to read, equal parts adoration and discomfort. Eddie flinches back, throws himself into cleaning them up, fixing the mess that’s his constant need to reach for what he doesn’t deserve.

Steve takes the offered towel with a small smile. Eddie turns away to give him some privacy. In a soft voice, Steve shatters any lingering post-orgasm bliss: “I, um… came here with someone.” Eddie doesn’t turn, fiddling with his belt. “He’s, uh, probably wondering where I went.”

Eddie doesn’t know what makes him feel worse. That Steve is dating. Or that he seems so guilty about it. A dark part of Eddie likes that Steve feels guilty, wants to have some claim to Steve as if he hadn’t lost that privilege years ago, when he left in the night without looking back, knowing that if he didn’t leave Hawkins in that instant then he’d never leave at all.

Steve is saying something, softly and oh so gentle, and Eddie tries to tune back in.

“I’m glad I… ran into you.”

There is a scribbling sound and suddenly a folded piece of paper is being pushed into Eddie’s hand.

“Here’s my address. I’m going to have him take me home. My date. And then I’ll be there. Alone. If you want to talk.”

Eddie can’t help but hear the hope in Steve’s voice, and it hits him like an arrow to the heart. As if he still is worthy of Steve’s hope. As if he hasn’t failed him a thousand times. He must have taken too long to respond, because he feels a squeeze to his shoulder and then he’s alone in the room.

—

Steve collapses on his couch, flinging his shoes across the living room and hooking his knees over the arm rest. He knows he fucked up. Joseph, the perfectly respectable and handsome and sweet accountant who had taken Steve to that goddamn bar had politely ignored the hickeys littering Steve’s neck, his mussed hair and stained jeans, and the smell of sex that no doubt surrounded him. He’d not argued in the slightest when Steve had asked in a low voice if Joseph wouldn’t mind taking him home. There had been no kiss at the door, no promise of a later call.

He knows he should feel guiltier but the truth is, he would humiliate himself over and over again for Eddie. For mere moments of his attention, begging like a dog for scraps. Something broke in him that day Eddie left, no note or explanation. He’d never felt deserving, like he was enough, until Eddie. Eddie who made him feel valued and valuable, who let Steve take care of him and in return helped Steve learn to be cared for.

In his rational brain, Steve knows that Eddie’s decision to leave was the right one, that Hawkins held nothing for him but bigotry and small mindedness (even if a small part of Steve screamed that he was here, in Hawkins, and shouldn’t that count for something). But in his weaker moments, Steve can’t help but feel that if he’d just been more, been better, Eddie wouldn’t have left.

He knows they need to talk about it. It’s why he invited Eddie here, to his home. They haven’t spoken in nearly a decade, going from kids in love to practically strangers overnight. Meditatively, he goes through the motions of showering, changing into clean sweatpants, settling back on the couch.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, still waiting for a knock on his front door that never came. His neck is cricked from sleeping on the couch, a foul taste in his mouth. Steve sits up, both wincing and reveling in the ache, the echo of Eddie in him, remembers Eddie whispering in his ear, telling him that he is good, that he is worthy.

He scrubs his face with one hand, trying to focus his half asleep brain. For a blissful minute, all he can think about is Eddie prowling around stage like he was born for it. Eddie mouthing at his cock, those brown eyes blown wide and desperate. Eddie biting his neck as he came. Until his mind wakes up enough to begin cruelly playing the evening back to him, highlighting each time he should have said more, done more, been more. So that maybe, maybe, Eddie wouldn’t have run away again.

The day passes. Steve busies himself like he always has. A long run around the neighborhood. Coffee with less cream than he would like, but he can’t indulge, look where that got him. Reruns on TV. A peanut butter sandwich eaten at the kitchen counter. He briefly debates going down to the park, shooting hoops with the neighborhood kids, but that feels beyond him somehow. He is still bruised, still stained, impure with longing.

He’s just settling into bed, resigned to a sleepless night since his brain won’t leave him in peace. Steadfastly not looking at the pile of dirty clothes on his floor that would still smell like Eddie, like them together.

He almost doesn’t hear the knock at the door. It wouldn’t be the first or third or even tenth time today he’s daydreamed about Eddie swooping back into his life, a knight in shining armor to rescue him from the dragon of his own inadequacy. But after a moment the knocking comes again, louder this time, insistent.

Steve pads to the front door, warily peering through the peephole. Eddie stands there, hair askew like he’s been pulling on it, eyes wild, biting his knuckle as if debating whether to knock again. Steve slams the door open, swearing when it catches on the chain lock. He finally gets the door open, and before he can get a word out, Eddie is rambling.

“Stevie, baby, I’m so sorry, I’ve been sitting in my van since last night, wanting to run away because I’m a fucking coward but needing to see you, I just have to see you, I think about you every day, I can’t get you out of my head, I think I’m losing my mind. Last night was a fever dream, and I don’t— don’t deserve to have it again but I want it, I want you, so badly and—”

“Do you want to come in?” Steve interrupts. He doesn’t know what else to say, his interminable daydreaming and rehearsals of his moment still haven’t prepared him for the reality of a flustered Eddie on his front step.

“Yes,” Eddie breathes, suddenly hopeful. He steps inside and Steve leads him to the couch. They sit across from each other and it feels familiar, the way they’re pulled toward each other, binary stars in orbit, and yet this is so, so new, the way they’re walking on eggshells.

“I’m—”

“Let me—”

“You first,” Eddie concedes, always the gentleman.

Steve draws in a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to feel, Eds,” he begins. “Last night was the best night I’ve had in a long time. But it felt too good to be true, I don’t, I haven’t—.” He swallows what he wants to say, that he hasn’t done enough to earn Eddie back, that he’s sorry he’s not enough, that his stupid heart can’t help but hope anyway, that he needs Eddie and that he’s been so alone without him.

“Shit, baby, don’t cry.” Eddie is on his knees before him, cupping Steve’s cheek, wiping away tears that Steve hadn’t realized were streaming down his cheeks.

“Last night was so good for me,” Eddie murmurs. “You are so good, Stevie, so much better than I could ever be.”

Steve chokes back a sob before the words he’s been avoiding come tumbling out. “You left,” he gasps, feeling a weight lifted from his chest, the truth of it suspended between them. “You left me, Eddie.”

Suddenly he is surrounded by Eddie, pulled onto his lap, Eddie’s face buried in his hair, his hands rubbing Steve’s back. They sit there for a moment on Steve’s living room floor, Steve trying to calm his breathing, indulging in Eddie’s warmth, in the feeling of home. He pulls back, needing to see Eddie, needing to confirm with all his senses that Eddie is still there, holding him.

Eddie’s hands move to Steve’s face, wiping away more tears before gently gripping his chin, wordlessly asking Steve to look at him.

“I did leave,” Eddie whispers. “I left and I haven’t stopped looking back.” Steve tries to look away but Eddie holds him firm. “I’m ready to stay now. If you’ll have me.”

“Eddie,” Steve breathes. “Stay.”

—

Eddie is prepping for their set, tuning his guitar, triple checking their audio, messing around with the guys. He feels comfortable up here, on stage, performance becoming routine and yet no less thrilling each time.

He scans the growing crowd, and his eyes are drawn to an unmistakable splash of yellow near the bar. Above it, Steve’s familiar face is animated in conversation with Gareth’s partner, laughing at something. He glances over toward the stage and Eddie catches his eye, relishing how Steve’s smile changes to the one reserved just for Eddie, softer and yet heavier with certainty and with promise. Steve waves, and Eddie is waving back and winking just to see Steve blush. His heart swoops in his chest, and he turns away before he himself blushes tomato red, his soft underbelly exposed.

Later, there will be time for blushes and winks and softness. As Eddie is so fond of reminding Steve, they have nothing but time. Eddie’s not going anywhere.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #cannot get these two and their issues out of my head!#have some angst with a happy ending #A writes #tumblr messed up the formatting but I think I fixed it!

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