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soundcrusher · 2 years

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When the Flame and Bird danced

Part 14 of Phoenix's story on board the sentient SG/Lost Light from @cuppajj is out, and I hope all of you will like it.

Trigger Warning: Manipulation, bad Memories

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Rodimus could see something was wrong as soon as Lightlost entered the room together with Phoenix. The way the youngling was holding himself spoke louder than anything he could say, and then there was the problem with his voice. If Rodimus wasn’t already mad at Lightlost for isolating Phoenix just because the kid finally got mad, then he would be mad for Phoenix hurting himself while he was in isolation.

Of course the youngling would sing to distract himself. He’s always done it, but Lightlost did not to intervene at the slightest sign of Phoenix hurting himself because he was over exerting himself and his voice, and that was something that only added to Rodimus’s anger. That, and the clear state of being Phoenix was in.

Rodimus couldn’t even take two steps into his brother's direction, without the youngling flinching or taking two steps back, as if he was something to fear.

And that hasn’t changed now either.

It has gotten better, Rodimus has to admit that, but he could see that being back in their room wasn’t helping Phoenix in the slightest. He was still flinching at the slightest movement. And when he wasn’t actively avoiding Rodimus, Phoenix was clinging either to his plating or servos. Clutching them tightly to the point Rodimus was sure, if his brother’s grib was any stronger, his borrowed plating would have dents. Which, while painful, would also mean that the kid was getting his strength back.

Strength Phoenix could definitely need right now. Especially with his blaster wound and voice box needing healing.

Rodimus let out a long sigh, before looking up from his radio and over to the youngling sitting in a corner of the room and staring at the wall. He never thought that he would be this worried about another Cybertronian, but, then again, who wouldn’t be worried about a young spark blankly staring at the wall, when he could do something else. Something that involved something like playing with his model ships or reading one of the many data-pads he’s collected. Granted, Rodimus wasn’t all that keen on reading, but if it meant Phoenix would finally do something else than, the captain would read. Damn Primus, he would even read to the kid, if it meant he could see his little brother smiling or laughing again.

Slamming his fist down on where his radio was sitting might not have been the best idea Rodimus had, because he could hear Phoenix letting out a shrill, off key, shriek, before seeing the youngling scrambling back to his bed and hiding underneath his blankets.

“Scrap, Phoenix! I’m sorry!” Exclaimed the Prime, as he, as quick as his body would allow it, moved over to where Phoenix was trying his best to hide. Getting on his knees, and carefully placing his servo on where he could make out the younglings shoulder plating. “Phoenix, I’m sorry. I got angry at something and I… I am not angry at you…. and I am sorry if I scared you… but… Phoenix, may I please see you? Could you… could you lift your blanket a little bit for me?”

Rodimus could feel the uncertainty radiating off of Phoenix. He wouldn’t blame the youngling, if he didn’t want to see him right now. After all, he doesn’t know exactly what he went through in his correction, but if it was anything like Rodimus’, then he could understand how it feels being isolated from everything. Your own thoughts, after all, are sometimes the worst punishment one could go through. That and being not able to walk and talk after years of not doing both.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Said Rodimus softly, while laying down on the side Phoenix made specifically for him on his bed to lay on. Even when he doesn’t know how to get back up. “I… won’t pretend that I know what you went through in that room… but… I know how it feels to be locked up with no way of getting out… I have been there…” Rodmus promised himself that he would never relive those memories, but maybe telling Phoenix what he went through could help him. Sometimes, others don’t need a strong figure that tells them how to feel or what to do. Sometimes, they just need someone they can relate to.

And it seemed to help.

The more Rodimus talked about his experience, he left the most shocking details out (he didn’t want to traumatize Phoenix even more), the more he could feel Phoenix start to relax. And, from the corner of his optic, he could see the youngling slowly start to peak out from underneath the blanket. That was good. Very good, because it meant that Phoenix was slowly calming down and starting to feel comfortable around him again. Something Rodimus was glad for. He didn’t want to imagine how lonely it would be again, if his little brother was avoiding him.

“Ah, but all those memories are something I don’t really like to think about. So… Hmm… How about I tell you about the time Drift and I accidentally got so drunk on Engex that we started dancing on the table and… Don’t look at me like that Phoenix, you probably never even had Engex.” Rodimus could feel Phoenix’s light glare on him, which caused him to laugh. Poor kid probably doesn’t even know what Engex was. And that gave Rodimus an idea. A stupid one, but an idea none the less. “You know what Phoenix? One day, I will take you to one of Cybertron’s finest bars and buy you the best Engex they have. And then you will know why Drift and I danced on the table. Just you wait.” Would a responsible older brother buy his little brother Engex? Probably not, but who said that Rodimus was like a regular older brother?

Rodimus was still laughing as he felt Phoenix carefully take his servos in his. Still with the same light glare on his face.

[You shouldn’t laugh like that. Dancing on tables is dangerous.]

Rodimus doesn’t know how long they were talking with each other, or when he slipped into recharge… Wait… HE SLIPPED INTO RECHARGE! Why? How? When!? Where’s Phoenix? By Primus and Unicron together, Phoenix wasn’t sleeping next to him anymore! He couldn’t feel his brother. What if Lightlost took him away again. What if Thrillchaser did something again!

He was quick to get up at the last two thoughts. How he did it, Rodimus didn’t know because all he could think about were two things. First, where is Phoenix, and second, will he have to hide a body. But those thoughts quickly left his mind as he saw the youngling over by the spot he placed his radio on. With the kid softly swaying his body and arms to a tune coming from the little machine.

Huh, who knew his radio was still functioning. And who knew his little brother could dance. Although… he wasn’t so sure if he should be proud about Phoenix doing the ‘Hustle’ or not. Either way, Rodimus could see how happy he was. So, he quietly walked closer and leaned against a console while keeping his eyes on the dancing youngling. Although, as the music changed, he suddenly felt two servos grabbing his arm and pulling him closer to the radio.

Apparently Phoenix wanted to dance with him, and who was he to not indulge the younger spark.

“Normally, I would love to dance with you.” Said Rodimus, while picking up the radio. Twisting and pressing the buttons to scan the galaxy for something faster. “But I don’t like slow music. Don’t look at me like that. I don’t have anything against your music taste, but seeing how you asked me to dance, it would only be fair if I was allowed to choose the next song.” It took him a while to find a song, but the search was worth it, because it seemed like his little brother liked that song too.

“Okay, I will show you the robes and you follow my steps, deal?”

Phoenix nodded as an answer.

Their dancing, in short, was wild. There were jumps, stomps, shuffles, and an attempt at something resembling square dance, but neither Rodimus nor Phoenix even knew what a square dance was. And if someone would have walked in on them without knowing what they did, they would probably think that chaos was happening right now. But, they were dancing and having fun. That was all that mattered to the two right now. Even if their dancing didn’t follow any rules and mostly was made up on the spot, they still had fun. Maybe this was even the first genuine fun Phoenix had in his entire life, and Rodimus wasn’t going to let it end any time soon.

So, he took the radio again and switched through some more channels. Stopping as he heard the starting words of one of his favorite songs.

“You got the Touch!~”

And thus, another whole dancing session was started. With both of them dancing side by side to the radio without a care in the world.

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march-harrigan · 1 year

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Hi )))

"You never bend, you never break You seem to know just what it takes You're a fighter!

It's in the blood, it's in the will It's in the mighty hands of steel When you're standin' your ground"

#ask meme #TRANSFORMERS 86 SOUNDTRACK YEEEEEEAAH #YOU GOT THE TOUCH #YOU GOT THE POWER

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panstarry · 26 days

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my final from last semester that i made into a zine. cooked this one up in a couple hours before the critique (the ink was still wet!), so it's very raw and kind of sloppy but the sentiment is there. i love you trans people of color. we are the backbone of this community 🌟

#pan draws #pan designs #zine #risograph #i'm not gonna lie i don't love how this one turned out OTL and i think the wording is not done but well... a deadline is a deadline #i'll probably touch it up and rewrite it in the future but who's to say.. i need to stew on how to articulate my feelings coherently #anyway my transness is so closely tied to my experience as a person of color. the current political climate is so fucking ass to exist in #but more than anything i am pissed off at white punks & leftists & trans people that refuse to have meaningful solidarity with us.#so yeah anyway. i was stuck on this one forever and only really got anywhere with it after attending 2 punk noise shows in a row where they #actually used their fucking platform to do like. anything. our struggles are connected you need to careeeee YOU HAVE TO CARE........ ok bye #tdov #trans day of visibility #<- i was sitting on uploading this for a while so the stars kind of aligned for it to be today huh.... happy tdov i love you

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inkskinned · 7 months

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love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.

love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.

love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.

love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.

maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.

recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.

#writeblr #warm up #ps edited so it is more clear where “half” of men is coming from:#15% literally don't even touch water #an ADDITIONAL 35% ''wash'' by just running their hands under water WITHOUT SOAP #15+35 =50%#like that is not washing ur hands. go back and use soap #btw the numbers for women are 4% never washing and 15% ''just water''#which is still gross but like. sooo much better yikes #ps i know we're all gay on this site but watching ppl ''correct'' my math on this has been wild #i have a learning disability im genuinely bad at math so i check EVERY time someone corrects me #but no they're just confidently wrong.....#182 hours is a week babes. 182/24 (number of hours in a day) is ~7.6 #that's where i got that number from. also from rent we know there's 168 hours in a week.#ALSO btw if u read this and ur response is ''men are also struggling rn tho'' like babe you missed the point of it tho #this doesn't even make fun of men it's legit just pointing out that bigotry against women isn't founded #in anything men actually CARE about . like they don't actually CARE about ''being clean'' when they make fun of armpit hair #or they would be WASHING THEIR HANDS.#men pretend to be rollin' in cash and Apex Predators and instead they are trained to be lazy and unwilling to act in emergencies #i have never and will never make fun of men for asking for more support on important topics like DV and mental health.#this is so clearly not about men; it's about how common just being plainly misogynistic has become.#like they don't try to hide it anymore.

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months

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Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

#dungeon meshi #laios touden #toshiro nakamoto #chilchuck tims #kabru #BF in this context could be boyfriend or best friend. The line is so blurry.#Chilchuck less so but whatever is going on between Shuro and Laios & Kabru and Laios is giving strong:#“dude if you were a girl I'd date the hell out of you”. And from the genderswap extra's that sentiment is canon for BOTH.#This was made prior to the translation of the Laios & Kabru & Shuro restaurant date comic and honestly I am just feeling vindicated.#I don't even know what to call this dynamic other than a situationship. There is so much going on between all of them.#Even on a purely platonic reading - the miscommunication and male yearning for friendship hurt so bad.#When we got the Big Hug scene in the epilogue arc I was whooping and hollering! Pure catharsis moment!#I also don't like hugs very much so I really felt it went Shuro ('hates being touched') went in for the bear hug.#Do not get me started on the agony of 'always lying' Kabru telling the truth (I just wanted to be friends)#and 'always believes' Laios thinking it's another lie and brushing him off.#I am once again supporting dungeon meshi day by posting art. Please watch dungeon meshi.#obligatory edit because I’m tired: YES. Chilchuck cares for Laios and him admitting it was a huge part of his arc #YES he is more just fed up with him that actually hating him.#I needed a third guy to be canonically done with his ass for the THREE WEED SMOKING GIRLFRIENDS reference

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rhinocio · 1 year

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no touchie

bonus: they have a system now

#rottmnt #tmnt #rhinociart #apritello #april o'neil #donatello #Touch Me Without Permission And I’ll Kill You squad #they’re besties your honour #the lineart quality in that first one got absolutely deep fried and idk why #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt

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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !