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flowercrowngods · 11 months

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day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch.

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch.

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream.

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.”

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet.

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave.

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now.

Remembering the words.

What are you doing?

Changing the world.

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does.

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is.

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse.

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin.

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside.

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up.

Everything. You're everything.

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin.

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise.

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody.

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is.

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second.

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers.

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too."

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror.

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love.

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie.

I love you.

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days.

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie.

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now.

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs.

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient.

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other.

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie.

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord.

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it."

And so they do.

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means."

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them.

You know, I always figured it would be you.

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be.

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too."

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys."

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his.

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!"

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time.

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile.

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you.

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression.

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?"

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you."

"Hmm. I love you more."

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?"

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers.

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask.

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future.

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieweek2023 #steddie week fic #i feel like this one's a bit disjointed but i kinda like that about it?? little snippets that make a happy ending you know??#idk i hope you like it too (i always get anxious about endings tbh catch me vibrating out of my skin)#dio words #i cannot believe it is done. i cannot believe what a ride it's been. i'll find the words for it later i think. first we read. and we bask 🤍#morcantinon i am ENDLESSLY sorry i forgot to tag you even after you sent that wonderful ask please forgive me 😭🤍#i also forget a bunch of people who asked in the reblogs but dear god i hope you find this anyway i am all over the place #i will edit this and work in more chrissy/robin when i post it to ao3. but this is steddie week. and these are 15k words of an au #that happened spontaneously and within 2h each night of me flying by the seat of my pants. xD

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tigorrrr · 2 months

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𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲 || prompt::sitting close together, touching each other

Ship(?): Diya x Baraka

Rated: mature

Warnings: blood, open wounds/holes, blood kink (?), off-canon, I'd say teratophilia but Diya can't be a licensed monsterfucker 'cuz Bara' ain’t a monster in her book 🤍

When the curtain of night fell upon the group, that's when the Lin Kuei Kunoichi got concerned about one of their teammates that have been gone for two hours or so in his tent.

She understood the importancy of privacy but she sometimes forgets not to cross over their shade because all she wishes to do is help. And after she had tested the water with where she stands with him, when he so vulnerably let her get close, she didn't want to get distanced unless she can't help it.

Diya had been fascinated by Baraka since she saw him, a member of their 'adventure' group and a fellow prison mate for a while.

He was tall - taller than her at least, with broad shoulders and a ruggedly handsome face - even though the half of it was scarred and deformed. Shriveled up to the raw muscle from his mouth up to his cheeks and enlarged talon-like teeth filled in the space.

Tarkat was and still is quite nasty, but it didn't stop her from feeling some kind of attraction towards Baraka.

His personality was a charm on its own. Baraka has years of life experience and it showed. Tarkat, no matter how contagious and how much the symptoms may be gruesome, he has excersised his mind and body around it. Adapting to the new him.

As a medic, Diya had to take care of her responsibilities first. Her Earthrealm friend Kenshi needed more attention than before, to his annoyance, and she understood it. Most men hate to be taken care of like the weakest child. All three of her older brothers made the same fuss about any kind of injury that she have had treated.

She treated Kenshi by the campfire while the others were preparing the tents. His world was suddenly plunged into eternal darkenss, Diya's heart ached for his. Being able to see all your life to suddenly lose your sight is the biggest torture than if one is born that way, althought they are equally as horrifying to lose one of the important senses.

"I- I'll be okay for now...!" Kenshi protested against her care, tipping his head to be somewhat out of reach. "This is not necessary!"

"Darling," Diya's sweet tone took a low dip to sound stern. "It will get infected if you won't let me clean it. I already gave you something for pain, if you worry it will hurt too much."

A low laughter turned both their heads Johnny's direction, the american strutted over to his buddy and added small twigs into the fire before sitting beside them. "I'd watch out Kenshi, just because you don't see the stern nurse's face doesn't mean it isn't there."

Kenshi would so love to roll his eyes along with Diya at his friend right now, but alas, he cannot.

When wet cotton dabbed underneath his eye he drew back his whole upper body with a hiss. It didn't hurt but it took Kenshi by suprise.

"Was für ein Kind..." Diya tutted softly, her hand already had a grasp on his coat's collar to thrust him back forward. Kenshi didn't fight the medic on duty but he wasn't pleased about it either.

Johnny's brows rose until it wrinkled his forehead. "Wait- wait. You speak English, Japanese, Chinese and now German?"

Diya smiled while working on cleaning her comrade's wounds without stabbing his already stabbed eyes since he's refusing to stay still. "And a little bit of French and Czech, too." she added, pride swelling her chest before she exhaled it to concentrate on her task.

Whistling was how the actor expressed his impression. He likes pretty girls with pretty, smart brains.

"I don't know how you do that. A few people can be multilingual."

"I guess I'm on top with very few, darling." Diya smirked impishly and the way she shot it at Johnny briefly had made him at a loss for words, he could only grin in return.

Kenshi's long exhale made his tiredness of being the third wheel between these two, he couldn't understand how he ended on that spot when those two have their back-and-forth. He grunted softly when he felt a familiar cloth press against the bridge of the nose before it was tied at the back of his head.

"Now, as your doctor, I order you to go rest." with gentle pats on her patient's shoulder Diya stood from her knees and cleaned her dirtied thighs.

When Johnny took his friend's offered hand to get Kenshi on his feet, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Shouldn't it be recommended?"

"Nope~" Diya cooed and put her hands against her lower back, watching Johnny lead his blind friend to the nearest tent.

She's glad Kenshi has someone in his time of need.

Diya decided to take a stroll around the camping ground as soon as everyone settled. As she wandered around, admiring the beauty of her surroundings, she stumbled upon Baraka's tent and remembered she'd wished to pay him a visit before retrieving to her own bedroll... with hope that she would lay in someone else's that night instead.

The unsureness of how to approach didn't stop her from nearing the current residence for tonight of Baraka's.

Her hand stalled in the air as soon as it gripped the sheet when pained, growly grunts was what she heard coming from inside. Diya strained her ears to hear more, but the longer she waited the more her suspicion had her tip her toes in the cold water of anxiety.

Curiosity finally getting the best of her, she quietly lifted the sheet and she peeked inside.

What she saw made her heart skip a beat and then jump in her throat at the same time.

Baraka was standing in the middle of the tent with his side view profile facing the entrance, bloodied and sweaty, equally as bloody spikes with pieces of meat and skin at his feet, his face contorted in pain.

Then, Diya could hear the squelching of raw muscle tissue and skin, as he began to tear something from his forearm.

A sickly crunch followed and another small boney apex hit the ground with the rest of the spikes. Because Baraka had to go deep for this little spike, it was painful and he epressed it by repressed, throaty growls.

Diya gasped, a little delayed because of her stupor but the thud grounded her, the sharp inhale that came from her lips was barely audible, her widened eyes furrowed and scrunched in concern.

As she stood there, frozen in shock, Baraka's eyes met hers when he turned to the nearly silent sound of breathing. The pain and determination in his eyes was replaced with a hint of embarrassment.

In that moment, Diya realized that she was not supposed to see this, neither were others. Baraka wanted time for himself to let his guard down while working on his private issue before returning back to socialize.

"What are you doing here?!" he demaned her to answer tone lowered and it made him hiss through his mouthfull of teeth, he was nearly panic-stricken — for how long did she stood there? Did someone else saw him?

Now that he turned completely Diya's eyes fell upon the sight of his bare chest and limbs covered in bloody holes, wearing nothing but his trousers that had not been spared from the crimson liquid.

Diya immediately rushed inside, gaze focused only on his wounds. "Darling— Why? How much does it hurt?!" she piled him with questions, her voice filled with worry while she pulled out her clean cotton handkerchief to dab at the rivers of blood on his chest.

Baraka watched the ivory hands tenderly work and place on his glistening skin, as the crimson substance coated her fingers then the rest of her hand his jaw grew taut and it became harder to swallow.

Blood looked appetizing on her skin.

He had to hold back his elongated tongue in his mouth as it hankered to caress her hand up to her wrist until it would be clean pearl-colored flesh again.

Baraka tore himself from her body heat and with his bloodied clothes he sat down on his bedroll, trying to dissolve those nasty, invading thoughts.

It would scare her away...

"I...I did not want you to see this mess." Baraka avoided her gaze as he tried to process how he should confess, staring at his lap.

Without hesitation she joined him, sat right by his side and again left so little space between their bodies.

"But why would you even do this to yourself?" Diya searched his gaze for answers, hand carefully placed on his inked bicep and her palm and fingers spread around the chissled muscle, avoiding the gaping holes but accidentally smearing more blood across his flesh.

He held his breath, savoring her caresses, and very slowly exhaled through his nostril. "... You are keen on touching me and I didn't want to risk stabbing you."

"Oh, Baraka..."

Diya's airy exhale was too close to his pointy ear, it made him ever-so-slightly shiver and his spine to straighten.

Baraka has no idea when but she already had the front of her body glued to his side, her bent knees dug into his thighs. Painted nails tenderly raked over the lines of bleak black deep under his skin, silently marveling at the artistic piece.

He was about to face her but the contact of his temple against her forehead prevent him to do so, Diya was so close yet so far from his reach to hold her properly as any consistent lover should and she still deserved much more attentiveness.

"You're so solicitous, ダーリン." Diya cooed, lips against his jagular vein, feeling for his spiking pulse.

Baraka's breathing turned raspier when her praise replayed in the hippocampus, he needed to double check, make sure he heard right. His blemished facial features still tinted with the redish flush. He could only respond with grunts that huffed hot air from his enlarged mouth against her pale lashes, making her flutter her eyelids like wings of a butterfly and tickle the underside of his jaw.

Diya's hands, ever so curious, stroked each side of his right arm up to his knuckles drenched in blood, she wasn't squeamish to get her hands dirty. When travelling over the holes with extra carefulness, Baraka didn't flinch an inch, to her inner relief.

When the small hands cupped at his on top of his lap, fingers knead at the inside of his palm, Baraka was close to moaning. Diya cuddled closer, upper leg hooking over his above the patella and he welcomed the weight and her body heat like a weighted blanket.

It was beginning to be quite tempting to pull Diya over him, at his lap, into his arms, for her to lay on top of him. Baraka wanted all of it at once. Yet, he didn't give in. His sanity could succumb into the unpredictable need of yearning, Baraka's not ready to risk it, who knows what... violently affectionate being he could turn into.

Under the blanket of the night with no worry about tomorrow, in the privacy of this tent, just the two of them — this could be one of the very few, if any at all, opportunities they could take advantage of. Right here, right now.

And she's only waiting for him to make up his mind.

"Touch me?" Diya's enticing request carried a peck, two, from his throat to his jaw where she could reach.

It loosened his fear that gripped at him, now he can't hurt her unless he'd want to. It made him that much eager and indecisive with where to start.

Baraka freed himself from her bloody paws to have something to lean against, the freed hand rested just behind her back and rubbing over her hip. The contact over her clothes made Diya feel like it left a scorching print on her bare flesh, it sent excited shivers down her spine.

"Gladly." Baraka throatily rumbled, as if purring with delight.

#Diya #Baraka #Kenshi Takahashi #Johnny Cage #GIRLIE IS LIVING MY DREAM TBH 😩#Bara's THAT ONE skin makes my brain go bbrrrr @_@ like SIR- did you saw those spikes off or is it that easy to get them off???? what???#does he feel relief if he gets rid of them #? Like scratching an itch?#Like when you have Psoriasis and you have to scratch it bc it gives you relief??#mind you I'm living with a person who has Psoriasis and it's nasty. when you scratch the dead skin you bleed so f*cking much #but fortunately It doesn't hurt them. Just relief cuz it itches #so much blood in my life damn #I headcanon Bara has the same with the Tarkat and that it's SOMETIMES painful. depends on the spot ig #he just loses the spikes on his forearm he grows as weapons for a moment so why can't the other spikes around his body do the same 🤷‍♀️#...... Yes i am making up excuses so the two would have a safe bang session for now #— next time it would be with all the shebang and Bara will be less anxious abt it

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