#i keep making these like 1k+ words that'll by its taking me fuckin forever

[stevebabey]

hiiiiiii ruby i LOVE you and i would like to request a ❤️‍🔥 from the hundred different kisses list! 46. a swirling reunion kiss <3 love u xo @familyvideostevie

 hiiiii em <3 i love YOU and i hope u sincerely enjoy whipped as fuck boyfriend stevie <3 he's pathetic and i desire him carnally MWAH @familyvideostevie 1k+

It’s not often you and Steve are apart.

Definitely not for this long. Call it codependency or call it ‘we survived some tumultuous life-changing-but-in-a-bad-way shit together’ but it’s become a habit between the two of you.

You can have a couple nights apart, here and there, of course. But between the nightmares and Steve’s affinity for touch, it’s never too long before you wind up back attached at the hip.

A lifetime ago, before you knew anything about demogorgans or how to wield an axe to save your own skin, you would’ve kept yourself up at night wondering if you were being too clingy. Would’ve consulted gossip magazines and toed the line of flirty and playing hard to get.

Steve leaves no room for doubt; he’d have you around always if he could. It’s shown in his utter delight upon seeing you or in his pouty disappointment every time you have to go.

It just makes it all the worse when you do have to leave — this time in particular, it’s a week away, to visit your grandparents out of state.

Steve thinks a week is entirely too long and tells you so with a grumble, his face tucked away in your neck. You’re both tucked up on your bed but really, he’s supposed to be over to help you pack. Your suitcase sits open on your floor, untouched since Steve’s arrival and subsequent flop on your bed.

“It’s just a week,” You say, aiming to cheer him up, even just a little. Steve’s resounding grumble tells you that it hasn’t worked. In fact, he wrenches his face out and somehow, the crinkle between his brows gets impossibly deeper.

“Just a week? Are you even hearing yourself?”

You don’t mean to smile but your boyfriend is so dramatic that sometimes you can’t help it. You hide it behind a cough and try to school your expression back to seriousness — you are going to seriously miss him.

A week will be hard. But maybe not quite the impossible feat Steve seems to be making it out as. He looks as though you’ve asked him to consider raising a demodog together, all aghast in the face.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” You assure him sweetly. Reaching out, you card a hand through his soft hair, the strands fluttering against your fingers.

Steve sighs, his entire chest deflating a bit, and he wastes no time burying his face back into your neck. You manage to catch a faint mumble of what if i forget what you smell like? and this time, you actually can’t stop yourself from laughing aloud.

This only encourages Steve’s grumbling. He pinches your side, not meanly, and you squeal, batting his hand away. 

“It’s a serious concern!” He insists, wiggling his face out once more to face you with a pout.

You giggle lightly, just moving forward to press a quick peck to his puckered lips. Steve’s lashes flutter, momentarily distracted by the feel of your lips against his. He chases your lips, more disappointed when you don’t let him steal another kiss.

“You aren’t taking my boyfriend concerns seriously,” He whines, his hands setting alight with movement. Your apprehension grows as they near your sides, prime tickle zone, yet you can’t stop your smile.

“Guilty as charged.” You admit with a sheepish smile. His fingers move before you can seize the chance to wriggle away, beginning a relentless attack.

Very little packing gets done that night. You blame Steve when you show up at your grandparents with just two pairs of pants packed.

The week is hell. Mainly, because your grandparents are old-school and had frowned deeply when you had tried to sneak off to call Steve on the first night. It results in an accidental week-long detox from your boyfriend, no phone calls, no nothing.

By night three away, you have to admit, all his grumbling was correct — you desperately miss the sound of his voice, the scent on all his clothes. His boyfriend concerns were well-founded and you find yourself wishing you had stolen a sweater of his before you left.

It also means, by the time the week is done, you’re practically dancing in your seat with anticipation the entire drive home.

So, to see your doorstep empty, not even a glimpse of Steve’s maroon BMW on the drive in, sinks your heart just a bit. You're sure he'd come meet you today. All the excited energy you harbored seems to dial down a bit and suddenly, your suitcase seems even heavier than on your original departure.

You lug it up the stairs, steps heavy, and ignore the faint calls from your parents telling you they’re heading out to grab some takeout for dinner. Your appetite seems to have dwindled in your disappointment. Your only hunger is for a kiss.

It feels as though your heart has crumpled, just a bit, at Steve’s absence. For all his whinging and whining, you would’ve thought he’d be here the moment you returned. Worse, you know he doesn’t have a shift today. Your chest screws up a bit tighter at the knowledge of that.

Nudging open your door with a shoulder, you must look a picture of downtrodden, head hung low, feet dragging along the carpet. With a pathetic sigh, you all but drop your suitcase carelessly and begin to toe off your shoes.

You let out a little shiver at the breeze coming through your window — wait, your window? You didn’t leave your window open...

Head shooting up, you get about one second to notice him before Steve is on you. His arms are around your waist, head burrowing into the crook of your neck and you barely get out a surprised noise before your feet are up and off the floor.

“Steve!” You manage to squeak out, a bewildered noise of happiness. You waste no time in wrapping him back up in a hug, though it’s not as you have much choice with the way he swirls you around, all brazen and wild.

“Baby, baby, baby,” He’s muttering sweetly, barely stopping even when he finally places you back on the ground. His hand is on your face, sweeping along your jaw and he seems ecstatic, body buzzing like a live-wire, “You’re back.”

You nod, a bit overwhelmed by the love. You suddenly feel silly for even considering he wouldn’t be here.

“I’m back.” You affirm, a happy laugh tumbling out.

Steve eyes are a bit misty but you hardly get a moment to coo over him when they dart to your lips and he moves like a man possessed. His lips capture yours, passionate and strong, a kiss he’s been saving up all week. It smooths out every crease in your heart, makes your chest tingle until it feels utterly light inside and you’re positively glowing from love.

He’s breathing hard when he pulls back, staying close enough to press his forehead to yours. He’s flushed a bit in the cheeks and his grin is wide, betraying his pure glee.

“Hi.” He pants, tongue darting out to lick his lips momentarily. “Welcome back.”

You laugh, unable to help yourself, so delirious with happiness; so content with his love. “Might be worth going away if this is the welcoming committee I get.” You say, teasingly.

Steve’s hands on your waist tighten and without missing a beat, his feet begin to tug you both backwards in the direction of the bed. You stumble after him, completely enamored and warm in the face. Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“You thought that was the welcoming committee? Sweetheart...”

By the time you wander downstairs to nab some dinner, what feels like hours later, your mom fixes you with a particular look. The hickies on your neck are too high up to cover and you’re too happy to notice them, until the look you receive. She just smiles, rolls her eyes teasingly, and pushes the takeout container in your direction.

“Fix him a plate too, and tell your boyfriend I said hi.”