#big boy Steve Harrington

[paperbackribs]

Steve, taking on the big brother/parental role with Max: "Blue balls is just a manipulative tactic."

Max, nodding fiercely while trying to remember what Steve had said before: "If it's so bad, then he can take care of it himself. He's a--"

Steve (so freaking proud of her): "That's right, he's a big boy, so he can damn well take care of it hims--"

Eddie yelling across the house: "That's not what you said last night, big boy."

[lapinelantern]

They moved in together in 1990

[steddielations]

Steve, Nancy and Robin go back into the Upside Down to get Eddie's body. They come across a fully transformed Kas, fangs snarling, clawed slashing, wings bared. He’s vicious and angry and very territorial, hissing at them. The whole group is really freaked out.

Until Steve steps closer and says, "Ed... Eddie?"

Then this ravenous monster goes full on Bambi-eyed and scampers over to them. Robin jumps back and Nancy slowly lowers her gun, both of them watching utterly dumbstruck as ‘Eddie’ excitedly jumps around Steve's feet.

Confused, but trying to keep Eddie happy, Steve’s like, “That’s it… nice little monster puppy?”

Eddie’s tail is wagging, butt wiggling, nuzzling Steve’s hand and making a purring noise when Steve carefully ruffles his hair, “Good boy…?”

Eddie’s wings flap happily in response.

This is how they find out that not only is Eddie alive, but his vampire-half is not subtle at all. Especially when Eddie finally admits he has feelings for Steve and to his surprise, Steve already knows, mostly because Eddie’s been ‘gifting’ him all the random shiny things he finds for weeks.

[judasofsuburbia]

something something the spicy six go to vegas and...slightly nsfw below

“Oh God, no” is the first thought that runs through Steve Harrington’s head as the morning light pulls through the windows and into his eyes. He buries his face into his pillow as he feels his stomach lurch, the sins from last night’s alcohol consumption returning with a vengeance. He knows he has to get himself out of bed and into the bathroom before disaster strikes but another thought hits him.

He’s naked.

Probably done in a fit of being too drunk and too lazy to leave his boxers on. He just hopes Eddie didn’t see him because they’re sharing a room on this trip. Though Eddie was just as plastered as he was so it’s unlikely he cares. Still, the idea of Eddie seeing him like that makes his face flush. That could also be the nausea though. 

Steve nearly jumps out of his skin when an arm wraps around his bare waist and a nose buries itself into his spine. There is hair, a lot of hair touching his skin.

Holy shit, did he bring someone home? To their shared hotel room?

Eddie must have bunked with Robin and Nancy or Jonathan and Argyle. They’re all going to be so pissed at him. 

Steve lifts his head just enough to turn over his shoulder and sneak a peek at this mystery person, already figuring out how to get them out of his hotel room before the others wake up and pound on his door for breakfast. 

It’s not someone sleeping next to him. It’s Eddie.

The someone as far as Steve’s heart is concerned. 

Steve’s head whips back forward as he tries to steady his breathing. Which ends up in not breathing at all as Steve stays completely still. Steve studies the way Eddie is curled up next to him. Not really holding him, more laying his arm on Steve’s hip. Hair tickling his back. Hot puffs of breath on his skin. It would make him smile if he wasn’t seconds away from throwing up. 

Steve exhales dramatically because his body is finally fighting back for air. Steve’s still naked, dear God, and Eddie’s kind of cuddling him, and this is bad and it’s going to be so awkward if Eddie wakes up in the midst of this.

Why are they sharing a bed? Why is Eddie so close to him? Does Eddie think he’s someone else? Is Eddie even conscious yet?

Something’s conscious but it’s not Eddie. It’s what’s attached to Eddie. 

Steve gets pulled back tighter into Eddie’s embrace as an erection is suddenly poking into the back of his thigh. Steve feels his stomach lurch again but this time it’s not the nausea. It’s everything he’s wanted over the last two years but he has no way of knowing if Eddie is even aware of his actions as he continues to snore right into Steve’s ear. Did they…how are they…they’re both naked as the day they were born in the same bed and nothing about this feels like a platonic mishap. 

Steve is trying hard to remember anything. Any detail of last night but it’s all a blur. He rubs his hands over his face and groans into his palms. He’s going to be sick and it’s no fault of the beautiful man lightly scratching on his stomach, making his cock slowly stir. As much as he wants to live in this fantasy world where he gets to wake up next to Eddie naked in the mere hours of the morning, he gently yanks Eddie’s arm off of him and rolls out of bed. 

He darts to the bathroom and crouches over the porcelain bowl as his body makes him pay for his crimes. 

After he’s emptied everything from his system, he stands shakily and turns the faucet on to rinse out his mouth. He looks positively debauched in the mirror. Hair standing at all angles and holy shit…hickies littering his neck and chest. His hands instantly go to them, pressing into them to make sure he’s not making them up when he notices a ring on his left finger. 

Eddie’s mood ring. 

No fucking way. 

[hawkinsbnbg]

Stepbrother Eddie who just wanted to protect his innocent little brother and thought that no one would ever deserve his baby.

He’d chase off Steve’s new boyfriends and return home with bloody knuckles—a result of his wrath—because how dare they lay their dirty hands on Steve?

Every day, when Steve came back from school, he’d check Steve’s pretty cunt to make sure the omega hadn't let some random alphas take his virginity.

If it required him to use his tongue and fingers for a thorough inspection, then no one would be the wiser. And if he knotted Steve’s cute ass once or twice every time before he fell asleep with a purring omega in his arms, then it was a little secret between him and his baby.

In the end, Eddie was the one who took Steve’s virginity because no one could protect his omega better than him.

[imthursdaysyme]

Final installment of the wrestlers 3/3: Steve runs his 5’8 mouth

[travelingtwentysomething]

POV I'm a photographer for a magazine photoshoot and we're having Joe Keery on set for his interview doing promo for his next Djo album. I'm selling him the idea of the shoot-

"This one's for the Tumblr girlies. I'm talking soft boy, neck moles, dumb face, tummy, boys in crop tops, big brown eyes, The Yellow Sweater, chest hair, wet, pretty, freckles, thighs, boys in shorts, cuddling and snuggling, cozy, glasses, But Daddy I Love Him, shirtless. Got that?"

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie: So, Chrissy's made out with Steve at a party once, I know for sure that Nancy's kissed Steve. . .is there anyone in this room besides myself who hasn't kissed Steve?

Of Jonathan, Argyle, Vickie, Steve, Chrissy, Nancy, and Robin. . .only Jonathan and Vickie raised their hands. Everyone looked at Robin in surprise.

Robin: *shrugs* I was curious. . .I still don't like men like that, if you're wondering.

Jonathan: Wait. . .Argyle, when did you kiss Steve?

Steve: A couple of months after he got here, he lured me into his van with weed, and we started talking about our hair. . . Well, one thing led to another. . .

Eddie: Damn. . .I feel left out.

Steve: Well, you can always change that.

Eddie: *to Chrissy* Baby?

Chrissy: *laughing* Go ahead.

Eddie leans over and kisses Steve.

Argyle: Schmackin.

Eddie: Vickie? You want a hit?

Vickie: *laughing* I'm good with only kissing Robin, thanks.

Steve: *grinning* I'm not for everyone.

[stevesbipanic]

Somewhere out there there's a blooper of Joseph Quinn kissing Joe Keery I feel it in my bones that those goofballs couldn't help it.

[hotluncheddie]

omg it's been said before but your autistic Steve series is so good so life affirming so precious to me..... and so I would like to share my own thoughts on the matter...... Steve who did sports bc he had so much excess energy!! and now he gets the zoomies all the time and needs NEEDS to get outside and run around when the weather is nice...... Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask and Robin who says she likes him better without it!!!!.... Steve hyperfixations (feat Steve who reads and frequents the library my beloved, he's so casually curious it just makes sense with his characterization I think)...... Steve full body stimming with Eddie or Robin and feeling amazing!!!!!...... Steve who has set up his space Exactly The Way He Likes It.....

love and light to you ♥️💋🥞🏄🏻

lovely 2jug2head!!! hello!!! ur so sweet!!!

but autistic steve!!! my love!! my guy!!! yesssss!!!! these are all so good! so sweet and lovely and perfect!!! ty for sending me this!!!

(sorry this reply took a little to get too, i've been on my freak shit but finally got few ideas down for u <3)

i think steve would take time learning what stimming and being overstimulated and understimulated means. i think after the upside-down especially, but a lot before that too, he got too used to detaching, kind of separating from his body in order to survive. so now, sometimes, he gets these itches and urges and weird feelings and he just doesn’t know what to do about it. [and i think sport definitely helped him in the past, but i dunno if he would make that connection right away.]

but, he watches robin flap her arms with her sweater sleeves covering her hands. and watches eddie get fucking breathless head banging to a song. he sees robin skip to his car at the end of a shift, looking up at the sky and letting out a 'AHH!' with so so much feeling, cheeks flushed and eyes bright that the day is done, getting in and fiddling with the radio like it’s no big deal. he watches eddie jiggle his leg and bite his rings and stand up and pace when he's talking about something he loves. and steve tries them.

he tries all of them.

he fists his hands and shakes them until something dislodges in his chest, till he can finally take a full breath. he sings loudly along to bruce springsteen and wham in his car in the mornings, sometimes not ever really singing, just making noise. he jumps around his room with robin when she plays blondie, he asks eddie to show him how to head bang, tries it and laughs and kisses him breathless when the song ends. he gives robin his keys and takes off running in a lap around the building after work, sometimes near sprinting, sometimes circling five, six times, going till he's panting and the faces of all the people he had to see that day are washed away, until he can't feel the plastic on his fingers, can't smell the bleach or the too much cologne some guy used. until he's reset, until he's him again, not theirs, not who anyone wants him to be. until he feels good again, lets himself feel good.

sometimes, now, he jiggles his leg the same way eddie does, at the same time, until robin says she has to move 'feel fuckin' seasick over here with you two goblins.' and eddie just laughs. and steve can curl up into his side, if he wants, can pick up eddies hand and bite his rings if he feels like it, eddie would let him, maybe call him cute, wouldn't judge him. neither of them would, if he did that, if he did more. they would never, and its so nice.

<3

["Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask" ;-; that's my fcuking GUY. he would and its so :(( !!!! ]

but yeah, robin would hate that fake plastic smile he puts on to mask sometimes. and she'd tell him, with so much love. 'stop it. show me you.' because she just wants to be with steve.

but she’s so wonderful, he just, she gets it. sometimes things that he didn’t even know were bothering him will build and he’ll snap and rant and moan to finally get it all out. lungs heaving as he empties everything out before her. but she’ll just look at it, and seem to place it all in a way that makes sense, a way that’s small and fits in his pocket. she’ll say ‘woah yeah, that seems like a lot / would be stressful / i’m not surprised you're overwhelmed’ and it’s just. it’s so simple. he’s seen, he’s listened too and validated. it still makes him pause, in stunned silence, and it’s like there’s a plaster placed on his heart with every instance that it happens. sometimes it seems to strike such a chord it's like it's hitting a deep wound that he buried inside, a scab finally healing and falling away. sometimes it makes him sob in her arms, overwhelmed and amazed and so so moved by this person he's met, this wonderful angelic creature that he gets to call his.

the next time he has his super masked, customer service face on when its just the two of them, she threatens to bite him. and steve smiles for real, laughs, feels another plaster sticking over the others.

<3

and steve library frequenter yes yes!! i agree that he is curious and practical and i think a hands on kind of guy! so i think he goes to the library and gets books about cars. i think he likes learning about how to fix his, trying to understand what could go wrong, how it happens, what you do in different scenarios. i think that's something him and eddie and wayne bond over, helping to fix their cars. steve and eddie even work together to do up wayne's van a little, getting it a new bumper and a couple parts scavenged at the junkyard. it's fun for him to work out what's missing, what’s changed, how and why and then putting it into practice. taking something apart and putting it back together. makes him feel proud of himself, something he really doesn't feel often. makes his brain zone in and flow and focus for a couple hours and it just feels so nice, its a happy time for him.

also, speaking of special interests - ✨sport stats✨. steve can name the players of all the basketball teams currently playing professionally, likes watching the tactics shows that come on before and after the games. likes talking at eddie and explaining why its actually really cool that they swapped out that player to give this new guy a chance, he's big news, a young up and comer and has a really interesting play style, its gonna work well with how their current manger organises the court. and eddie just smiles at him, squeezing steves hand in his lap and trying to understand what he sees on screen, follow along (he struggles to take in all the information, it's just not his thing. but it makes him so happy when he watches steve watch.) and steves happy little keens when something interesting happens, mindlessly fiddling with eddie’s fingers and tapping his other hands fingers against his knee, 1, 2, 3, 2, 4, 2. relaxed and focused and sometimes he rocks when it gets really tense and eddies heart bursts.

because it wasn't always like that, it was a struggle and a near pleading for eddie to just get steve to tell him what he likes, talk to him, get to know him. to just let eddie in. because eddie wanted to know everything and steve just didn't know how to deal with that. why would eddie care? no one ever listens to him. he's embarrassing and annoying and gets to loud and eddie doesn't like sports so why would steve tell him anything? it took soft words and gentle encouragement and reassurance again and again that he's listening, he wants to listen, wants to know. 'always, always wanna listen to what you have to say stevie.' so when steve comes over to the trailer after work, talking about the latest switch they announced in the paper, how last nights points shifted the league around and now he doesn't even know who's going to win, isn't that cool? eddie fucking beams because this is his boy. his bright, beautiful, exited baby and he’s talking to eddie, he's letting eddie see him.

<3

steve and his space though. thinking very much about that. he doesn’t have the strictest schedule, he’s learning that sometimes its okay to leave the sheets for another couple days, that the dust can settle for another week before he needs to wipe it away. but some things are just, they just have to be right. he needs to know where things are, needs the important stuff in the same place every day so he doesn't forget. needs his products in the bathroom out and in order so he can keep track of when something needs replacing, so he's not left without something he needs. wants this one specific pillow at night, and one for between his knees and a duvet on year round, needs it to feel warm and safe and right in his bed.

and his clothes, its not even about the sensory stuff for him, like yeah most of his tops are soft, his jeans pretty worn in. he has some really old sweatshirts that are special, that come out on the worst days. but it's also about how clothes look, how they make him feel. he want his jeans to fit right, sit right on his shoes. wants his shirts to make his shoulders look nice, make him feel comfortable and confident and like a normal fucking person who can exist in the world. its another part of the mask, maybe. but it works and its his and most of the time he thinks he looks good. and that's okay. he's learning and its healthy and its practical and it helps.

but he also adores wearing eddies t-shirts. when he's at home all day or to sleep at night. especially if eddies not there, when steve misses him, when he wants him. steve wears eddies t-shirts to bed. they're all ones eddies left after staying, they're old and soft and the tags have been cut out and they smell like eddie. like his eddie. like he's there. steve loves it, wraps himself up in it, helps him feel soothed and taken care of even if he's alone, maybe its a little sad, makes him feel embarrassed, too much. but he's learning not to care.

sometimes eddie talks to him and touches him in a certain special way that makes steve feel so so foggy and taken care of and amazing. so, if eddie's not there but he craves that foggy feeling, steve wears eddies t-shirts and he speaks to himself like eddie would and he makes himself dinner and looks after himself and tucks himself into bed and rubs the fabric of the collar against his nose. and tries not to feel embarrassed if he needs more, if he has to suck on his fingers/thumb for a while, clutching the fabric in his hand. tries to let himself whimper or even cry a little if he needs, at how nice it feels, how gooey and needy he can allow himself to get. accept it as part of himself, that eddie likes it, still likes him, still loves him. just something he needs sometimes. and steve falls asleep, wearing eddies t-shirt.

<3

gonna tag a few people who might want to see, hope that's okay? wanna spread him around and show him off!! look at him!!! our best guy!!!

@pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @spectrum-spectre @just-a-tiny-void @steventhusiast @cherrychapsticksteve @lil-gremlin-things @finntheehumaneater @irethsune

[ryan-waddell11]

it’s also been a year since this scene altered my brain chemistry.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 31: New Year's Eve Traditions & Activities

Happy New Year everyone! Just a short little Steddie ringing in 1987 to round out steddiemas. Thank you so much to @steddieasitgoes for creating and hosting this event. I had so much fun writing festive Steddie things all month and I hope everyone enjoyed!

“Happy New Year, Stevie,” Eddie says as he shimmies under the covers.

He hums contentedly, curling a grabby hand up from under their blanket, beckoning Steve to join him.

“Is it twelve already!” Steve exclaims, one knee on the bed.

He stills, squinting at (his) clock on Eddie’s side of the bed but can’t make out the numbers.

“Nope,” Eddie hums, “It’s only 10 pm. A hard-earned early night, I’d say.”

He grins, his closed eyes crinkling at the edges.

Steve scoffs, folding back the plaid bed sheets.

“Who are we?” he mutters, “10 pm…”

He moves into position with ease, tangling his legs with Eddie’s and resting his head on his chest. Steve tucks his hand just under Eddie’s long-sleeved flannel sleep shirt, resting his palm against puckered skin that has only just started to feel like it’s healing. Well, as best as the half-chewed-up left side of Eddie’s body can heal...

He squeezes Eddie tight, greedily holding him as close as possible, wishing away thoughts of this past Spring.

Eddie must sense it because soon a hand is in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. His eyes droop at the sensation.

“Plans for ‘87, sweetheart?” Eddie wonders aloud, breaking a long moment of silence.

His chest thrums with every word, a steady heartbeat going along with it.

“A year with you…” Steve sighs, letting his eyes fall shut.

“Sap,” Eddie chuckles, even though he still kisses the top of his head.

“And…” he yawns, “Not a monster in sight.”

“Sounds… good,” Eddie agrees, just as sleepy.

[momofadhd]

Eddie calling Steve by cheesy nicknames. secretly, Steve loves it.

[starrystevie]

steve likes to drink. nothing in too much excess, nothing too terribly terrible, nothing to really worry about. he likes a beer that turns into four, he likes to throw back shots and see how long he can last without grimacing. he likes to go to the dance floor in seedy little dives or bigger clubs or house parties and twist around with his hands on someone's hips. he likes the floaty feeling he gets when his blood feels warm and his face is flushed and the voices in his head quiet down to a murmur, how he can just be without any inhibitions holding him back.

eddie isn't too big of a drinker. it's a bit of a downer really, but after watching his mom drink herself away and hearing the angry echos of his dad's screams in his memory once he'd had a million too many, drinking never really seemed fun. and it's not like he needs anything to loosen his limbs or his tongue or his spirits, he's already wild enough as it is. it becomes an unspoken rule that eddie will be the designated driver whenever the crew wants to go out even though no one likes his driving anyway.

he's ordering a shirley temple at the bar when an arm slings over his shoulders, pulling him close into the soft side of someone who smells heavenly, all musky and spicy and enticing.

"eddie," is all but yelled against his ear against the music, lips brushing over the sensitive skin there, and yep, that's steve. "hey, we going home soon?"

steve is warm from either dancing or vodka and eddie finds himself drawn in like a lovestruck moth obsessed with a bright and shiny lamp. he shuffles even closer and covers steve's hand on his shoulder with his own before throwing a grin his way. he likes how steve's eyes zero in on his mouth and the way he licks his lips before he mirrors his smile back at him.

"you done dancing?"

steve mumbles in affirmation and nuzzles his face into the side of his neck, coming around to press himself against eddie's front and wrapping his arms around his waist. there's a hint of lips at the column of his throat and fingers digging into his sides that decide to travel down, down, down and-

with a chuckle, eddie regretfully pulls away the hands that he wants around him at all times and motions for the bartender to close their tab.

"okay, stevie. let's get you home." eddie laughs at the overdramatic frown he gets in response and drinks in how steve's arms pull at his too tight t-shirt as he crosses them over his chest. he presses his hips against eddie's to get as close as possible, causing eddie to stumble back. "geez, you're needy after a few cocktails."

"cock... tails," steve mumbles after a few seconds before he snorts out a laugh and the facade of anger is gone, leaving only a wide toothy smile and pretty pink cheeks that eddie could stare at for hours. "i'll show you cocktails."

his hands reach for eddie's waist again who has to wiggle away from his boyfriend to grab his card from the bartender with an apologetic grin. eddie shoves steve towards to the door lightly, both of them giggling and happy, and admires the view as he walks behind him.

"yeah, yeah. you can show me at home, big boy."

[hitlikehammers]

nowhere without you

rating: t ♥️ cw: post-final battle, hurt/comfort ♥️ tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, BIG emotions, even BIGGER love, as in: soul-deep love, softness; happy endings always ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day eight: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

(also probably the humble love-soaked endlessly-devoted beginnings of the rockstar!husbands in je ne regrette rien)

The weirdest part is how, in the aftermath, Eddie doesn’t speak. Like, at all.

Scratch that: it’s the weirdest and the most concerning part. Eddie makes noise, mostly pained kinda moans that make Steve’s chest clench, ache more the admittedly-decently-deep wounds slowly—but reliably, like, consistently—stitching themselves together, and Steve begs him to get looked at again, because something has to be wrong to cause those kinds of sounds but Eddie doesn’t even shake his head, doesn’t really move at all save that sometimes he trembles, and it’s…

It fucking breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s almost gotten used to stroking Eddie’s hair in silence—so wrong; worthy Eddie that’s just so wrong—and working any tangles out so, much as it’s getting a limp and greasy with days of neglect, at least it’s smooth; but he’s almost resigned to this for the long haul because he’ll weather anything he has to for Eddie and they’ll work through this, whatever this is, they’ll worth through it together and—

“How did you stand you it?”

The sound is more a scratch than anything, glass on sandpaper, and it’s down to Eddie lying where he hasn’t left for the last four, going on five days—as in, not once while Steve’s been awake has he existed without Eddie’s weight situated just so against his chest, sinuous and deliberate in where he presses against, careful as a rule of Steve’s worst injuries and delicate about how he rests against Steve’s body, but not…hesitant.

More, kinda…kinda desperate.

So it’s down to him being pressed so close and sure and unwavering that Steve feels him speak more than anything, matches the motion of his lips against Steve’s gown to words rather than the wind, or something outside his door to the halls of the hospital beyond; it’s down to the tension in the whole of him, the all-too-present shaking that Steve matches the scrape of the question to a hurt that’s…that maybe Steve doesn’t wholly understand just yet, but that really and truly does cut him deeper and closer and more critical at the core of him than the Upside Down ever could have clawed in: Eddie lives in him, nothing else can really…ever hope to be deeper.

“How are you,” Eddie rolls gravel across more words, and Steve’s missed his voice so fucking much, he didn’t realize how much until it’s here again for him to hear and hold but, Jesus fuck, it’s like…it’s like it’s drowning; like Eddie is drowning and then his breath is hitching, and oh, god, that voice is cracking around the edge of a sob, watery and wavering as he damn-near close to begs:

“How did you survive it?”

Steve feels it clench in his ribs, because he thinks he…he thinks he’s putting it together. The strain, the agony in that voice, that voice he loves so fucking much, from this man he loves with everything, but then—the way Eddie presses into him. The force, and the position, and the pattern. The way he’s been quiet, unfailing, but never…never seems distant, seems the opposite: seems focused; intent. The way Dustin had come in and caught him upon the things he’d missed in one of the almost-nonexistent windows where Eddie sleeps, hand lines alongside his sternum and head curled in the most uncomfortable pretzel Steve can imagine, forehead all scrunched and eyes squeezed shut so goddamn hard, looking like any sleep he manages is nothing close to rest by any measure: but Dustin had came in and told him Eddie was the first to him; Eddie ran faster than he’d seen a person run; Eddie’d looked devastated, broken when they’d caught up, and they’d been so afraid, feared the worst, and—

Steve’s starting to fit the pieces together. Maybe.

“No,” Eddie whines, pitchy and fervent and almost ear-splitting, like a wail of sheer gut-wrenching pain that Steve can’t find the reason for in the here and now because it’s just them in a hospital room, they’re okay, and his hand presses heavy, gentle around his wounds still, always gentle and so, so careful and Steve doesn’t know what’s caused the reaction, but then—

Then he can feel his fucking heartbeat for how hard Eddie’s pressing. It’s weird, how it makes him feel…strangely alive, the sensation of it kept and held like that, specifically in Eddie’s hand. And he’s not paying attention to the monitors really, tuned them out as quick as he could but when he listens, okay. Okay, maybe faster than normal, but Steve’s fucking worried, okay, he’s—

“Fuck, no,” Eddie moans and twists his head, no, not just his head, his ear and leans harder into Steve’s chest, his breathing shallow and Steve hates it but he doesn’t know what to do, how to help, what to fix because he’ll fix it if he knows, he’ll climb out of this bed and crawl on the goddamn floors of he has to, but he doesn’t know where to go, what to find, what demon’s left to slay—

“I’m just, I’m grateful you did,” survive, Steve survived…

He survived, like, now?

“But grateful’s such a weak word, it doesn’t,” and Steve takes a breath, and reaches, rests his hand on Eddie’s wrist just to see: his heartbeat’s somuch faster, it’s like a flutter of a flutter felt strong enough to break through skin, it catches in Steve’s heart just to touch—

“You’re so much stronger than I could ever, like,” Eddie’s going on, still breathless and fuck, Steve can see why; “fucking hope to be.”

Shit, but that’s…he wasn’t stronger, fuck, Steve wasn’t stronger than Eddie, Eddie nearly got eaten alive, Steve nearly couldn’t staunch enough of the bleeding, he almost lost—

Eddie keens, horrible and hurting and Steve stills: the monitor. The thundering of his own pulse at the memory.

How did you survive it?

Losing. Almost losing. That’s…that’s what it is.

That’s why Eddie’s pressed against his chest, his his head and his hand have been a fucking frame, goddamn, like, parentheses surrounding Steve’s beating heart, proof of life, Jesus—

“But I need to be,” Eddie’s voice is quiet, but steadier, and his chin dips like a nod to himself; “I need to learn how,” he’s firm with it; “for you.”

Oh, god. Oh…oh Eddie.

“I can’t ever lose you, Steve,” Eddie presses trembling lips to Steve’s chest and then presses close again, so close and oh: he wasn’t just intent where he’s been silent so long.

He was listening.

“Never ever,” he breathes against Steve, hot and damp; almost kinda breathless again, or still: “never ever.”

“Eds,” Steve begins, not even entirely sure where he plans to go, just knows he needs to do something, say something, but Eddie’s turning Steve’s hand in his, where he’d circled Eddie’s wrist; he’s turning it and mirroring the hold, gripping Steve’s wrist in kind.

“I couldn’t find it,” he gasps, and the sound makes the sob clear before Steve feels the wetness soak through to his skin; “I couldn’t feel it at all, you were, it,” he presses his fingers in hard, squeezes so goddamn tight, and Steve can’t…he doesn’t want to imagine what Eddie had to do, what Eddie found and felt, he doesn’t but he can, because he remembers the mirror image so stark, it took him so long because he couldn’t find a pulse either, he’d had to press on Eddie’s heart at the source and even then—

“I couldn’t feel you.”

Oh. Fuck. He—

“Oh, baby,” Steve’s elevated enough at an angle that he can at least kiss Eddie’s hair, barely brush his scalp but it’s enough, for the breath that punches from Eddie against his chest it’s at least something; “that’s…”

“I won’t survive that again, Steve,” Eddie sucks in, unsteady and drenched with tears, with sorrow, but also…also more than anything else, they’re filled up with so much love.

A love big enough to hurt that hard.

“And I can’t…” Eddie gasps, breath catching; “I can’t handle not feeling it,” and his fingers tighten; his hand on Steve’s chest and his cheek across from it press down that extra little bit so Steve knows his own heartbeat in those moments full and deep.

“Have to feel it always,” Eddie whispers like he’s telling himself, and Steve, and Steve’s heart through flesh and bone, some cosmic secret no one else can know: too sacred. Too precious.

“You can feel it any time,” Steve lets his hand fall from Eddie’s to cover the hand Eddie’s got splayed ln his chest, counting time; holds him there almost protectively: “all the time,” and he slips his fingers between Eddie’s and shifts his palm close to the beating, so he can still feel what he needs as he murmurs with his heart literally in Eddie’s hands, with his entire goddamn soul:

“All of me. It’s yours.”

Unshakable fucking fact. He doesn’t even have to will it, or hope for it; his heartbeat knocks that heavier against their hands for those words like it knows.

It knows.

“Don’t leave me,” Eddie bursts out, begging; almost something primal, and Steve can feel the tremoring of his lips where they drag against him; “please. I’ll do anything, I swear it, just don’t—“

“Be you,” Steve braves the whimper that comes from untangling his hand from Eddie so that he can reach for Eddies cheek and cradle him in closer, and oh, fuck, thank god: something in him sighs out and loosens, ever so slightly—finally.

“Everything you are,” Steve presses on, runs his thumb back and forth through Eddie’s drooping curls; “let me love you, past living and dying,” and Eddie’s breath catches, for that, but Steve holds him tighter for it, drowns him as best he’s able in the proof he needs so bad; “don’t leave me,” and Eddie huffs a little for that, like it’s beyond believing, impossible, and Steve smiles to himself for it, tries to lean enough to press the grin to Eddie’s head, hopes he manages as he murmurs there close:

“That’s it, Eddie,” and he lets his fingers spread wider, cradle Eddie all the more: “that’s all I need.”

“That and more baby,” Eddie answers him between the double-beat of his pulse, immediate; “you’re the music and the rhythm,” he nuzzles a little against him, and Steve smiles a little wider for it; “you’re the reason my heart beats,” and Steve finds that heartbeat for himself at Eddie’s jaw, now; a little calmer. Not much. But: something.

It’s a start.

”I don’t have a reason without you,” Eddie exhales, vehement; “I don’t want a reason, without you.”

And Steve should maybe push on it, or be scared by it: but neither seem right, not for this.

Not for them.

Steve just holds Eddie’s pulse under the pressure of his touch, and holds Eddie’s cheek closer still into his chest as he breathes:

“You’re my whole heart, Eds,” and he lets a second pass, and then another, for that heart of Eddie’s to pump evidence unshakable against him, to play the song and rhythm straight into his waiting ear:

“Was never going anywhere without you.”

♥️ ao3 link here

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

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[infinite-orangepeel]

this photo literally feels like getting struck by lightning. his eyes are so soft, the little scrunch of focus between his brows, his hair all pushed back and pretty. the twin moles on his cheek. he’s an angel i’m sure of it.