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stevieschrodinger · 3 months ago

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Part One Thirty

Couple of things - I've been going through it lately and just wanted to get this bit out. I do have more planned but I need a break after this. The Carpenters song referenced is 'all you get from love is a love song' and if you don't know it you can give it a listen and then you'll get the 'broken arm' joke.

They squish together into the phone booth, Steve hitting the numbers almost on reflex now, going through the motions of briefly speaking to Robin’s mom.

He angles the receiver so that Eddie can hear too, their cheeks practically touching, “Steve! Chrissy’s here-”

“Why?” Eddie cuts her off immediately, “not time to close the shop,” he almost sounds a little critical when he says it, making Steve smile.

“I know I know,” Chrissy says, “but he came back!”

“So we waited for him to leave, and we followed him,” Robin adds enthusiastically.

If Steve couldn’t hear for himself that they’re both at Robin’s place, and they’re both absolutely fine, he’d be panicking now, maybe he kind of is, because he’s sort of snippy when he says, “Robin what the fuck, it’s not safe, you two aren’t- you’re not Cagney and Lacy for fucks sake.”

“Steve it’s fine,” Chrissy tells him, “he went to Starcourt, so we went home and called Hopper right away.”

“Good,” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, “okay, so what now?”

“We don’t know,” Robin admits, “we’re just waiting to hear now. See what happens?”

“Okay we could...Eddie, you want to kill some time in town, and we can call again later?”

“Yeah” Eddie pulls back his sleeve to check his princess watch, “...lunch. And shopping?”

“Sure thing baby.”

Chrissy squeaks down the phone, “oh you’re both just too cute together.”

“Oh my god don’t encourage them.”

“Oh!” Chissy starts, “I met El and all the rest of the kids, isn’t she just, so cool? She made some pens float around!”

“El is the fewest bad kid. She’s quiet,” Eddie agrees, but Steve is absolutely certain Eddie’s warmed to the kids a lot over the last couple of months, so he knows Eddie doesn’t really mean it like that.

“Least,” Steve corrects softly, “she’s the least bad. Probably.”

“Best of a bad bunch?” Robin hazards.

“Maybe,” Eddie tells her, “we can come home soon?”

“Errrr…I mean, see what Hopper says, I guess? We might know later, but you guys shouldn’t come back today anyway, it’s a few hours drive, and you’ll need to pack up and everything, right?”

Steve frowns, as Eddie, very briefly, looks sad, “maybe tomorrow,” he says to Eddie more than the girls, “is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “I...like the flower shop?”

“You miss it?”

“Yes, and Chrissy. Miss them. I know they’re not gone but...they’re not here.”

“Oh Eddie honey, I miss you too, okay? And when you get back you can come into work, there’s stuff to catch up on,” she whispers then, “Robin isn’t good with the flowers like you.”

“Hey! I’m trying my best here-” but she gives up, everyone else laughing over her.

The payphone starts to beep, “we’ll call later okay!”

Steve’s pretty sure Eddie’s jar will be empty again after today. He’s bought four more records, more Led Zeppelin, plus a Dio record because ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ was playing when they walked in and Eddie really liked it. Steve absolutely certain that the girl with a green Mohawk wearing a Dio shirt sealed the deal, but he's not going to tease Eddie about it.

Eddie comes out of the changing room of the second hand clothes store, showing Steve the jeans he’s trying on. He’s been making do all this time with Steve’s draw string sweats and jeans with a very cinched in belt, so it’s definitely time for Eddie to choose his own things but...Steve wasn’t expecting Eddie to choose anything quite so tight.

“Stevie? What do you think?”

Steve swallows thickly before he answers, he swears Eddie’s only getting away with wearing them because his dicks on the inside, the thing would get strangled otherwise, “you look really good Eds. You like those ones?”

“Yes. Black, like my tail. And look,” Eddie scratches at the ripped fabric, his knees on display, “see my knees. I like to see them, they’re new.”

Steve bites his lips briefly to suppress the chuckle, “you should definitely be proud of those knees, you did grow them yourself.”

Steve frowns at the sight of Eddie in a leather jacket; it’s so very far removed from everything he’s been wearing. It’s so different from all of Steve’s clothes, but Steve can’t deny he’s making it work. It definitely suits the look Eddie’s starting to cultivate. He’s very much leaning towards darker colors, and he was really pleased when he turned up a Led Zeppelin tee shirt out of a pile.

The difference between the Eddie that comes out of the dressing room and the Eddie that went in is startling, Steve’s pullovers and polos all tend to be lighter colors, so all the black is very different.

“You like it?”

“I mean, as long as you like it, sure, you’re the one who has to wear it. But yeah, yeah I do like it. You look good.”

Steve has to stand by while Eddie rummages across a tray of cheap jewellery, “they’ll turn your fingers green,” he warns vaguely. Eddie shrugs, probably not understanding what Steve means as he tries things on, he likes the shiny silver ones that definitely are not silver, “you’re such a magpie.”

Eddie chooses two chunky rings that are so cheap he will get change from his last five dollars, but he clearly likes how they look on his fingers; he doesn’t even take them off to pay for them. Steve knows he’s just here to hold the bags, but he doesn’t mind. Eddie’s worked hard for this money, he should spend it on the things he wants.

Steve meanders through the store, it’s mostly second hand furniture and ‘antiques’, but Steve figures that term is being used very, very loosely. As near as Steve can tell it mostly looks like house clearances and that sort of thing. He spends a little while at the glass cabinets, staring at all the little figurines. 'Dust gatherers,' his dad calls them. There’s some tiny little jade ones, big tall porcelain ones and everything in between.

He’s distracted away from them by the sound of twanging. Bad, uneven twanging on an acoustic guitar. Steve follows the sound, finding Eddie just fiddling with the strings, the guitar still lying on it’s back. It doesn’t have a case, and looks pretty beat to hell to Steve, covered in stickers and all scratched up, but Eddie is entertained by the noises, and he looks up, smiling, “you going to buy it?”

Eddie shakes his head, “not enough left.”

“How much are you short?”

Eddie checks his pocket, and then the little label hanging from the neck, “six dollars?” he hazards.

“Okay, well, I’ve got four left on me, so maybe you can haggle the guy down.”

“I’ll try,” Eddie grins big, taking the change from Steve.

They’ve dropped everything off at the car and, with nothing left to do to kill any more time, they head back to the phone and smush into the booth together.

“He wasn’t there when Hopper got there,” Robin tells them, and Steve sighs, disappointed, “but! El looked into my head real quick, and she says he’s called Doctor Owens. She knew who he was, and she says he’s...nice.”

“Nice,” Steve repeats, deadpan, “a man who facilitated experiments on little kids. Nice.”

“Well...I mean maybe as nice as he could be given the circumstances. I got the impression he never...he wasn’t cruel about it. If you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Steve hazards, “Eddie?”

Next to him, Eddie’s kind of staring into space, frowning, “Owens. Yes. Remember that word, maybe?”

“Okay. Okay, so what are they doing now Robs?”

“Well, Hoppers keeping an eye out and he’s going to try the Motel right now, but if he’s not there he’s going to start doing drive bys of Starcourt and stuff, and hopefully he turns up,” Steve can hear in her voice that she's shrugging, “but Hopper says since no one else is asking any questions, he’s hopeful that it’s just this guy working alone, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Eddie listens to his new record while Steve makes dinner. He has his guitar over his lap, and occasionally plays a note or two. He understood the mechanics of it already, but Steve figures he must have seen someone with a guitar on TV at some point.

Steve’s absorbed in what he’s doing, and doesn’t notice at first that the twanging noises have stopped. The record ends, but it feels like it’s been a long time of quiet, and Steve looks over to find Eddie, expecting him to be flipping it.

He isn’t.

Steve turns off the stove, covering the two pots he’s been carefully nursing. Eddie isn’t in the cabin; Steve finds him on the dock. He’s just...standing there, in the near dark. Just...staring out across the lake.

“Eddie? You okay?”

Eddie looks around again, “heard something. Had to check it’s safe.”

“You could have said,” Steve comes up close, wrapping a hand around Eddie’s hip. Eddie turns in reflexively, looking for a quick, soft kiss, which Steve is happy to give.

“Think the trees look like The Upside Down.”

“Do you?” Steve looks around; all the trees have leaves on, they’re dense and alive and nothing like the dead twisted things that litter The Upside Down, “I don’t think they do.”

Wind moves through the trees, the susurration of leaves is kind of loud, “sounds like bats. Many many bats,” Eddie shifts closer, pressing himself against Steve.

“You okay?”

“I don’t...I think I don’t like it here.”

“Oh...well,” Steve makes a decision, “since they’re pretty sure it’s just the Owens guy, how about we go home tomorrow? I mean, you might not be able to go to work and stuff until they find him-”

“Yes. Home tomorrow.”

Steve looks around again, tries to see it through Eddie’s eyes. Tries to see what reminds him so much of The Upside Down. Maybe the panic attack in the shower knocked some stuff loose; Steve doesn’t know. Eddie’s been making do with strip washing from the bathroom sink the last couple of nights, and that’s been fine but not ideal. Eddie’s hair needs a wash.

“Okay, we’ll call when we go through town, okay, let them know?”

“Yes...take my book back.”

“You finished it?”

“Almost.”

“Lets go inside, I can finish dinner and you can tell me what it’s about?”

“So they’re...stealing treasure from a dragon?” Eddie nods, his mouth full of dinner. “Okay, fair enough.”

Eddie swallows, “I want to read The Lord of The Rings.”

“Okay, I’m sure we can get it at the library.”

“You promise dragons aren’t real?”

“Yup. Definitely not real, and there’s no hobbits or wizards or- or elves or any of that stuff. And magic isn’t real- well. That kind of magic isn’t real, at least,” Eddie frowns like the book committed a crime.

“But...dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were definitely real, you have those in your book?”

“Yes...dragons can fly though. And breathe fire.”

“Well...some dinosaurs could fly, and they were big like a dragon, some of them.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes go wide, “I thought from my book like...cow sized?”

“Hu uh,” Eddie excitement is actually palpable, “definitely a dinosaur book next, some of them were like...as tall as trees,” Steve doesn’t actually know, he was most definitely not a dinosaur kid, but he’s pretty sure at least some of them were tall like that.

“All the time, used to do this. When I had a tail,” Eddie’s voice is muffled where he’s bent over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah...I guess I did,” and it’s true, Steve was washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day when Eddie still had a tail. He feels the back of Eddie’s head almost reflexively at the memory, following the ghostly, barely there ridges with his fingers through the suds, “it’s getting so long again already.”

“Good. El said Max makes nice braids when it’s long enough.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “oh yeah? That’s going to look great, now eyes and mouth closed, I’m gonna’ rinse.”

Eddie has his head resting on Steve’s tummy while Steve plays with his hair, hand buried in his curls, massaging his scalp, “what you doing baby?”

“Hear.”

“Hear? Oh what, you’re listening?”

“Listening to Stevie’s inside.”

“Anything interesting?”

Eddie nods, his cheek dragging against Steve’s skin, “funny tummy noises. And bumping.”

“Bumping? Oh, beating, my heart right?”

“Yeah. Stevie, we can definitely go home tomorrow?”

“Sure thing babe, we can get packed up in the morning,” Steve yawns, “you want to go to sleep?”

“Maybe. There’s bad dreams here.”

Steve blinks his eyes open to look down, a weird shiver raising goosebumps on his arms, all the way down to where his hand is still buried in Eddie’s hair. Eddie didn’t have to put that quite so creepily. “I think it’s just...maybe it reminds you of things here, so your mind is kind playing tricks on you a little? There’s nothing bad here baby, I promise. What do you think?”

“The water reminds me of Barb.”

Steve frowns, “Barb? How do you know about Barb?” Under Steve’s hand, something crawls unpleasantly beneath Eddie’s skin.

Eddie shrugs, “Nancy told me you killed her.”

“Stevie!” Steve fights, briefly, confused. “Stevie love, it’s okay. Bad dream.”

Steve’s kind of sweaty and panting, but he quickly realizes that it’s Eddie whose holding him, so he quits moving, “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out slowly, trying to calm himself down, “I’m fine. Thanks. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

“You want to tell me? Here, water.” Steve takes the glass, sipping it carefully. He can feel the cool water go down, grounding him.

Steve has no desire whatsoever to talk about it, so he deflects, “what time is it?”

“Five?” Eddie leans over, checking his watch before putting it back, “half five.”

“I miss you saying five and a half, it was cute.”

“I can say five and a half,” Eddie takes the glass again before snuggling in.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Already awake...bad dreams.”

“Fucking hell. We need to go home just so we can get a good nights sleep. What did you dream about?”

“You. Lost you, in the trees...we were here but...Upside Down trees? I tried and tried to find you. Could hear you, ‘help help,’ really scared.”

“Maybe it is this place,” Steve settles down again, pulling Eddie close, “weird that we’re both having bad dreams right?”

“I don’t like it.”

“No but...lets just rest a little, and then breakfast and we can get packed up, okay?”

“Okay, Stevie love.”

Eddie waits outside the phone booth, leaning against the car where it sits parked by the curb. Steve calls Family Video today, knowing that Robs should be at work, “hey Bird-”

“He got him! Hopper! He got the Owens guy!”

Steve feels himself relax, one less thing to worry about, “good. Good, we’re coming home.”

“Okay, Hopper does think it was just this guy. He was staying at the Motel, Hop had to wait around a bit, like proper stake out!! But he did get him. Said he couldn’t find any evidence of him like, working with other people, and El’s going to talk to him or something. Make sure. I’m not sure about that bit but-”

“Okay, okay, so where is he?”

“Hopper’s got him at the Motel. Probably like, tied up, do you think? Steve what if he’s like, working for the government though. Or or the Russians-”

Steve rubs his forehead, “Birdie, I know you do love some empty speculation-”

“I do!”

“But how about we wait until we actually like, know?”

“Spoil sport.”

They say goodbye and end the call, Steve offering the keys to Eddie, “want to do a little of the driving?”

Eddie grins big, clearly surprised and pleased by the offer, “yes I do!”

“Okay, careful though, you don’t know the roads like at home. And no getting distracted by the cows.”

Eddie ‘moos’ really loudly in response, once in the drivers seat, he pauses for a second, “should have bought tapes,” he laments.

“Well, unlucky, I’m thinking some Carpenters.”

“Nooooo,” Eddie laughs.

“Shut up, I know you love it. Now sing to me about how the best love songs are written with a broken arm.”

“I think that’s what she said! Broken heart makes no sense,” Eddie grumbles, Steve still laughing.

Eddie had caved after two hours of driving, but still, considering all Eddie had done before today is short journeys around Hawkins, Steve figures he did really well in an unfamiliar place, and he told Eddie so. Eddie has turned into a surprisingly careful driver, Steve doesn’t know if it’s his consideration for Steve’s beloved car, or if it’s Steve’s constant reminders that Eddie cannot afford to draw any attention to himself. Either way, Steve feels safe in the passenger seat.

“Okay, I think I should take you home to unpack, then I can figure out how to call Hop and see if I can go over.”

Steve’s not even surprised by Eddie’s response, “both go, you mean.”

“Eddie...I’m not sure it’s-”

“Stevie,” Eddie manages to make it a complete sentence.

“Look...I’m not going to take your choice away, okay, if you want to come, then that’s fine. But...you get I just want you to be safe, right? And I feel like the less this guy knows, the better?”

“I know...I know,” Eddie has his thinking face on, when he’s wrestling with how to say something. It’s been happening a lot less lately, but this concept must be more complicated. “The people had me in a tank. They...hurt me. I was scared. Now...Owens is in the tank? He has to...he has to say why. To me. And sorry.”

“I...is that what you want? For him to apologize? To...explain?”

“Apologize and explain. Yes. And...I will not hurt him. I’m Eddie. I’m not people.”

Steve shouldn’t be surprised, not really. He feels like he knows Eddie inside and out, but his natural compassion, his...kind of innate goodness still blind sides Steve sometimes. Steve had vaguely considered that a realistic outcome of this may be that he’s helping Hopper hide a body. Maybe. It was kind of an abstract thought he hadn’t wanted to poke too hard but, realistically, they’re talking about a man who experimented on children, on Eddie.

Steve is clearly no where near as forgiving.

Hopper meets them both outside the room. Steve has no idea what to expect, really. The rasp of Hopper stubble is loud when he scrubs at his face, “El thinks this Owens guy is legit. He already knows Eddie has,” Hopper gestures vaguely, “human parts.”

“How?”

“After Starcourt happened, he went back to poke about, and he saw you both. More importantly Eddie, driving a car,” Hopper’s words are full of accusation, like ‘see I knew him driving would be trouble.’

Eddie waves a hand dismissively, “I can go in?”

Hopper sighs, but Steve isn’t going to fight Eddie on this. He knows what he wants, and he’s so fucking smart. Steve’s sure Eddie doesn’t fully appreciate the risks, not since he doesn’t get fully grasp how stuff like actual governments work but...yeah. It’s Eddie’s life, but Steve still takes his hand. If they’re doing it, they’re doing it together.

Hopper just sighs and rolls his eyes.

Steve figured that, somehow, this guy would just...look evil. He doesn’t. He looks like a harmless old dude, sitting on the edge of a sagging motel mattress, looking over some papers. He cannot disguise his interest when Eddie walks in.

He’s not restrained or anything, he’s just...there. There are books and pens and folders and shit spread out on the opposite bed, like he’s been working.

“Owens?” Eddie checks.

“Yes. Yes hello it is...so wonderful to see you again. And to hear you speak! How good is your understanding-”

“I think we have questions, first,” Steve cuts him off sharply. He doesn’t seem threatening, just...genuinely pleased to see Eddie. The guy has to be up to something, Steve can’t shake the suspicious thought that the guy must be one hell of an actor.

“Yes. Of course. I have everything, all of my notes, from Starcourt, so any questions you have I will do my best to answer.”

“Okay, where the fuck do you get off experimenting on people?” Steve’s pretty sure his voice is reasonably calm. He’s vaguely aware of Hopper coming in behind them, pulling up a folding chair he must have gotten from his truck.

Owens closes his eyes briefly, before addressing Eddie,“yes. Of course. I am so so sorry for what you were put through but..the work we were doing. I was not fully aware of just how intelligent you were. Are. I didn’t at first fully comprehend that we were even dealing with a sentient specimen-”

“He’s not a specimen, he’s a person,” Steve snaps.

“I am very smart,” Eddie adds helpfully.

“Yes. Yes you are. And the transformation you have undergone is nothing short of miraculous, if I could take some bloods-”

��Absolutely the fuck not. What were you doing with the Russians?”

“Oh,” Owens seems genuinely confused by the question, like it hadn’t really occurred to him, “when the original labs were closed, the funding ended. Of course we were aware of the mirror dimension-”

Eddie looks at Steve, “he means The Upside Down.”

“-Oh, is that what you call it? Well, it was deemed for too dangerous, and not worth the expense, to continue, not after such a catastrophic failure. The Russians however didn’t seem to have any such issues and were interested in opening a gate; I had to go where I could to continue my work, you understand. And then they brought you back with them. What should I call you?”

“Eddie. I’m Eddie.”

“And you’re working? And you’ve learned to speak and drive a car...your ability to process new information is staggering. The physical changes, did they just happen? What was the-”

“Stop, just stop. What do you want with him? Why have you been asking around?”

“Stevie,” Eddie says quietly, pulling Steve back a little by his shirt. And yeah, okay, Steve may have taken a step forward.

“I just...want to continue my studies. Eddie’s change...the differences in his make up, his body’s ability to rewrite itself – it could lead to...well, significant discoveries. The data I could gather, imagine the effect on modern medicine, what we might achieve – the potential to help people could be immeasurable.”

“We could...help people?” Eddie echoes.

“Yes, well. We could try. Like I said I would have to do some tests to understand-”

“No,” Steve crosses his arms over his chest.

Next to him, Eddie asks quietly, “what tests?”

“Just...take some blood, for now. Just try to understand how this happened and...what the changes mean on a genetic level.”

“Look, Eddie, you do not have to do a single thing for this guy, okay? This could be dangerous, they could come and take you away again-”

“I would most certainly like to avoid just that,” Owens interjects.

“Oh yeah, right. Sell me on that then,” Steve snaps at him.

“Look,” Owens spreads his hands, he hasn’t moved from his seat on the bed, “I’m the only one who knows about this. The little contact I’ve had with my previous...employers implies that they’re done with the site, they’ve scrubbed the remains of Starcourt, it’s already being filled in. I only know you even exist because I just happened to see you. No one knows Eddie is alive right now, that he didn’t die in his tank, except for me. If I tell anyone they will take him, potentially back to Russia, and I’ll loose access to him. If I inform the American team, I’ll have to admit that I was working for the Russians, which would cause some obvious fall out for me. This way I can just…continue with my work.”

Steve rubs his eyes. It sounds...legit. He guesses. Logical. “Hopper?”

“El says he’s on the level.”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve huffs, walking in a circle.

“Stevie? I want to help people.”

“I know you do baby.”

“Oh, are you two in a relationship-”

Steve finds himself leaning over to point in Owens face, “do not.”

“Okay, okay,” Owens spreads his hands, “look, I think you need to see this from the other side too. What if Eddie gets sick? What are you going to do, take him to the doctor? And what about El, and her powers? What if something comes up with her? I’m more than happy to-”

“I’m sure you are,” Steve stops him, “and you agree with that Hop?”

“I mean, he’s got a point. Don’t think we could take Eddie to a regular doctor, and El was fine with letting him look her over. I mean I maybe don’t agree with the shit he’s been involved in but...I don’t currently have a lot of choice with getting my kids brain powers looked at.”

“I don’t like it.”

Hopper shrugs, “nope.”

“This is such a bad plan.”

“Not as bad as-”

“Don’t you dare-” Steve starts.

“Letting some fish guy-”

“Hopper!” Eddie adds, affronted.

“Bite your toes off.”

Part ThirtyTwo

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature #robin buckly #chrissy cunningham #buckingham

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puppy-steve · 4 months ago

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fourteen hundred hours

don't look at the timezones too closely, the idea of eddie on tour and leaving steve voicemails to wake up to in the morning was too cute to pass up ao3 link

"steeeeeve harrington."

eddie's sleepy voice rumbles away in steve's ear. there's no one else around so steve doesn't bother to hide his grin as he snuggles further under the blankets.

eddie chuckles, breathy and giddy, like he's telling a private joke. "good morning, sweetheart. well, morning for you. sun won't be up here for another–" there's a pause, then a shuffle, and steve can picture eddie rolling over in his hotel bed to look at the alarm clock even though he could just look at his phone, "–five hours, christ alive."

steve's grin turns gooey when eddie lets out a loud yawn into the receiver. he hears the sheets shifting and he has to reel his mind back in from the gutter.

"the boys say i'm stupid for leaving you all these voicemails," eddie tells him once he's comfortable. steve pictures them both laying the same way, facing each other. "they call me whipped every time i pick up my phone, but guess what, stevie?"

he pauses, like he's waiting for an answer.

steve can't help but to whisper back, "what, eds?" into the quiet of their bedroom.

"i miss you so much, sweetheart."

steve feels his heart jump to his throat so suddenly that he almost chokes on it. butterflies erupt in his belly and he can feel himself blushing. his lips wobble with the attempt to not make some embarrassing expression, even though he's the only one in the room.

it's been over a month since they've seen each other in person. photos of their teary eyed send off were still making the rounds on twitter and instagram—steve tucked into eddie's side at the check-in counter with their hands in each other's back pockets, them waiting in line at one of the airport restaurants because the flight was delayed so they had another two hour wait time. the fan video of them making out in a hidden alcove away from the band.

there's been facetime calls, but it doesn't replace the longing need to have eddie physically with him. to kiss him. to hold him. to bury his face in his neck and never let go.

"i don't think i tell you that enough, when i leave," eddie continues, his voice still soft and gravelly from lack of sleep and singing for three hours straight. "but i do. i'm so used to you being the first thing i see when i wake up that i get sad when i open my eyes and you're not beside me."

steve grips the blankets and lets out a pathetic whine, his chest tight.

"i miss holding your hand, i miss being able to kiss you, i miss hearing your laugh and seeing your smile." eddie sighs, deep and sorrowful, and it breaks steve's heart.

he wants to take his love's face in his hands and kiss him until he no longer sounds so sad.

"just fourteen hundred more hours and i'll have you back in my arms. call me after you listen to this, okay? i love you so much."

the voicemail ends and steve sits up, his bedhead wild and unruly. he taps out a message to chrissy asking for the next available flight they could put him on and sighs in relief when she says they can fly him out tomorrow night at the earliest.

mentally going over everything he needs to pack, steve falls back down onto the bed while his phone rings out on speaker.

"hey, babydoll."

at the sound of his boyfriend's voice in real time, a calmness washes over steve as he sinks back into the pillows.

"hi, baby. i got your message."

buy me a ☕?

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #.txt #.doc

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bugsmunched · 11 months ago

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"Love you too, Sugar " - Steve Rogers X GN! Reader

WC: 825

Warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff

Summary : Steve refuses to let you go in the morning.

--------

You blinked slowly, the bright light of the sun hitting your eyes as the startling sound of your alarm filled your ears. Your boyfriend never understood why your alarm HAD to be so ‘alarming’, even though you had explained to him a multitude of times that you could easily sleep through a hurricane. As you shifted to sit up, a warm, muscled arm wrapped around your torso, keeping you effectively pinned to the mattress.

“Stevie…” You murmured softly, turning your head to face your boyfriend- a very sleepy Captain America. You wiggled your arm out from under his grasp and gently pushed away a few blonde strands from his face so you could see his eyes, that was a mistake. You could now see his piercing blue eyes, looking up at you with all the sadness - albeit mostly fake sadness- in the world.

“Steve, honey bunches, I’ve got work today.” You murmured affectionately, placing your hand on the side of his face, which he promptly nuzzled into. You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s actions. He was quite like a clingy golden retriever puppy, especially on days where he had nothing to do and you had work.

“You don’t need to go to work, I make enough to provide for us both…” The stubborn blonde murmured softly in return, nuzzling into your hand.

“What do you expect me to do when you’re at work, sweet thing? This job may drive me insane, but it also keeps me sane when you’re away on missions,” You explained softly, pulling your hand away from his face which left the strong man whining.

He wrapped both arms around you in protest, pulling you close to his chest and refusing to let go. Your face was situated between his pecs, a place you wouldn’t normally mind being, except that you had to be at work in about an hour or so, so you needed to start getting ready. “Steven Grant Rogers.” You said sternly against his chest.

“Y/n M/n L/n” He said back in a sing-songy tone.

“Sweetheart, I need to take a shower and get ready for work, as much as I would love to stay nestled here all day, I really can’t.” You said in a stern, yet gentle voice. Reluctantly, Steve let you free from his arms, a pout clear on his face.

“Awe, don’t make that face…” You said softly, playfully hitting his shoulder. “You know I’ll be back! It’s not like I’m leaving forever, sweetheart. “ You said as you sat up, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “But thank you for being good and letting me go. I love you.”

Steve smiled a bit at the praise, that was always his soft spot. “ Love you too, sugar.” He said softly, pulling you in for a quick kiss before letting you go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you made your way out of the bathroom, hair freshly dried and new, clean clothes on, you smiled a bit as the scent of fresh breakfast hit your nose. Steve always loved to spoil you with the promise of fresh breakfast. Today it seemed like it was french toast, sausage, and eggs.

You walked into the kitchen and the sight before you made you smile: Steve was standing there in an apron overtop his gray sweats and bare chest, plating up two plates of food as soft music played over a bluetooth speaker you had gotten him a while back. “Smells delicious my love.”

“Delicious enough for you to stay?” He asked with a cute little smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Unfortunately not, baby.”

“Dagnabbit,” he said in a playful little voice, slapping his knee in fake frustration.

“Dagnabbit? Sometimes I forget that you are simply very old.”

“Very old? Why you little-” He started as he placed the food down on the counter and made his way over to you, grabbing you by the waist. “brat.” he finished in a teasing voice, grabbing your chin and pulling you in for a very gentle and loving kiss that simply made you melt.

Your knees got a little weak and you felt like your teeth were going to rot out of your head from how sweet that kiss was. Soon enough, your beloved old man pulled away, just holding you in his tight grasp for a moment longer, before finally letting you go and walking over to the table.

He pulled out your chair, allowing you to sit down before he brought over the food, sitting down across from you as he always did- with about 3 times the amount of food that you had for himself. That’s one thing about the super human serum, it always made him incredibly hungry.

You sat in silence for a few moments, just eating your food before you hummed in delight, looking over at your super soldier boyfriend. “ I love you so much Steve. “

“I love you too, sugar.”

#steve Rogers #fluff #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader

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formosusiniquis · 7 days ago

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a particular kind of girl

Steve Harrington/Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins WC: 4669 | E | Tags/Themes: Genderfluid!Steve Harrington; Lingerie; Feminine Terminology used for Steve; Smut; Dom!Carol and Steve; Sub!Tommy AO3 a very special thank you to @itcanbepalped for being my smut guidance counselor and helping me get unstuck

Carol was particular.

It was a trait Tommy really liked in her. A trait she shared with the other member of their little trio. So clearly it wasn’t something that bothered him since he’s seeking it out. She keeps her planner filled out, starting at the end of the week and making disappointed little tongue clicks every time someone -- Tommy, it was usually Tommy -- forced her to have to change it. She planned her outfits out every weekend on the phone with Stevie, an activity he’d been party to once and promptly uninvited to. She was an everything in its place kind of girl, and he loved that.

It just made giving her gifts hard.

“No.”

Stevie snorts from the floor, doesn’t even have to look up from the magazine to know it’s funny how mercilessly Tommy just got shut down.

“Babe, what? It’s a gift, I thought you could wear it tonight.”

Carol smiles his favorite smile, small and a little mean. It makes him feel high, but in a sexy way. “I know what you thought was going to happen,” she says, “but I’m not wearing that. The yellow is going to make me look like my fucking liver is failing, the triangle cups are going to make my tits look small, and wearing a thong under my dress is like asking one of your neanderthal friends to flip my skirt.”

She tears it down effortlessly as Stevie hums along with each point from the floor, leaving him a little dizzy. The gift he’d been hoping to unwrap like a sexy present later that night held in his hand still like a kid’s handmade mother’s day gift: a sweet gesture but ultimately not worth the tissue paper it’d been wrapped in.

“Don’t be sad, baby, you just got confused.”

“Confused?” His head feels like it’s a size too big for his body. Like they’ve already started pre-gaming even though they hadn’t cause Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were still in the house, wouldn’t leave to catch their flight for another hour.

“Yeah, Tom, confused,” Stevie chimes in, always happy to pick up the thread of Carol’s teasing if she was the one to start it first.

Carol’s nails are long enough that he can feel them scrape along his arm with the soft pads of her fingers. Goosebumps rise in their wakes, “It’s okay to admit you really bought this for Stevie.”

He tries to deny it, “But Steve’s-”

“A girl sometimes, it’s so hard to predict.”

Stevie was particular too. Never a hair out of place. He… She would always make sure she showed up at any event perfectly pressed and ready. Even if it was a basketball game with the guys, her shoes would be clean, laces white as the tube socks pulled up her calves. She would slip away from him and Carol sometimes in the hall, he always thought she just got tired of watching them make out, but sometimes she would come back with her hair parted different and shiny gloss on her lips. Hard to predict.

“Stevie would look glowy in that sunshine yellow,” Carol husks in his ear. “You’re just a little dense sometimes, aren’t you, baby? But you noticed how pretty Stevie’s looked this week, didn’t you?”

She sits up from the floor, lips glossy and eyes big in a way he can kind of tell now isn’t entirely natural. Maybe that special mascara stuff Carol uses before they can go out for hangover food because she can’t go out to the diner looking hungover.

“You think I’m pretty, Tommy?” Stevie asks.

He thinks he does, thinks he must. Cause he spends a lot of time looking at Stevie, at her hands and her legs and her ass.

“Yeah,” he feels breathless when he answers. Red in the face probably, the way Carol always teases him about getting when he’s hot for it and embarrassed about it.

“And it’ll be really fun,” Carol says, lips every few words as she taunts him, “at the end of the night when you get to see her tits for the first time in this pretty bra you bought her, won’t it? You’ll get to be the first boy in town to see her pretty chest.”

And he’s seen them in the locker room when they were pecs. But this is different, makes him feel nervous, palms sweaty like the first time he and Carol were going to do it.

“I don’t know Carrie, I’m not a slut. I don’t just give it out to anyone,” Stevie says, something bored on her face. A look she normally sends guys like Peterson, not Tommy. She’s supposed to like him.

“We’re different though, aren’t we Stevie,” Carol coos, sticky and fake.

“Yeah, you can see ‘em sure.”

“Little girl on girl like when I sleepover?”

Carol with her pale hand on Stevie’s golden skin. Cupping each other’s tits, Carol's nipples were sensitive, Stevie is so good with her hands, big for a girl’s sure but dextrous. A thumb brushing over the nub even through Carol’s rosy bra -- and he’s an idiot, of course he bought this lingerie for Stevie, he knows that Carol only wears soft pinks that make her skin look dewy and flushed -- it would be enough to leave his girlfriend gasping and begging. Carrie straddling Stevie’s muscled thigh, Stevie rubbing up against Carrie’s hip, the two of them grinding -- scissoring -- against each other. Panting desperately into one another’s mouths the closer they get to release.

Would they let him watch, even if he wasn’t good enough to touch?

“Give Stevie her present, Tommy,” Carol orders.

“Stevie.” He thrusts his hand in her face, feeling less like a kid with his mom and more like one of the losers who always try to give the cheerleaders carnations at Valentine’s.

She smirks, lip pulling up at one corner, brows raised just enough to make clear that the fumbling was noticed. Stevie takes the gift from his hands, lifting herself up from the floor enough to leave lipgloss sticky kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Tommy,” she murmurs against the side of his face before disappearing into her ensuite to change with a sway of her hips.

“Why don’t you start being good right now,” Carol says, a hand rubbing up and down his thigh. “Why don’t you go downstairs and fix us both a drink. You know what we like.”

Stevie and Carol are particular.

Tommy spends most of the party trailing behind them or running to get something for them.

When he gets it right he gets rewarded. Carol kisses him rough and dirty, tongue slipping into his mouth for a second before she takes her drink. Stevie, more careful by necessity, gropes him; grabs his ass, disguises it as a locker room smack, before coming in close to pass along her thanks.

But he gets it wrong more than he gets it right. And that’s even better.

“Tommy,” Carol says, the tone she’s used with him all night the same one she uses with her dog, talking to him like he’s something sweet but dumb. “I don’t drink keg beer, remember. Go back and get me a Coors from the cooler.”

“Didn’t you watch Miller spike this with that cheap ass vodka from the plastic bottle?” Stevie asks, “I’m not drinking that. There’s still some Absolut in the freezer, splash of that in some orange juice.”

Each insult, each dig as his intelligence and ability sinks him down even further into a high he didn’t even have to pay the Freak for. He’s floating, barely thinking, just something for Stevie and Carrie to make use of.

When he’s done playing fetch, he’s a chair. Carol beckons him closer with a wave of her hand, pushing him down onto the sofa before wiggling down into his lap, worsening and hiding a problem that had been steadily growing with each barb and errand. An ache he could feel but hoped would be taken care of if he just kept being good. It’s just them for the first time since Stevie went to change. She’s across the room, taking John Peters for a ride, pretending like she doesn’t have a pool table in her own basement that she’s basically a pro with. He’s with it enough to tell that they’re getting to the part of the game where she convinces her opponent to put some money down, one leg hiked up onto the table nearly bent in half over top of it.

“Look at her.” The music is loud enough that Carol’s speaking voice, the sultry warmth of it, is covered. “Can you see the way Stevie’s showing off the pretty panties you got her.”

And he can. Bent over the side of the table, her shirt has come untucked from the back of her pants and visible over the top is the yellow strap of her thong.

“Think she’s showing off for you? Think she’s got her ass up in the air so you can see how much she loves that special set you picked out for her? Or do you think she’s hoping someone like Johnny will see it and actually show her a good time?”

“Care,” he’s whining now, desperate and hard underneath her.

“What? Do you want me to talk about what I think she’s going to let you do to her? How sweet you’ve been and what you’ve earned? She likes giving head so much it’s probably time someone returns the favor.

“You can suck her off, see how she fills out those panties.”

It sounds like an order and it’s overwhelming in a thousand different ways. He rests his head against her back to help hide the way he moans.

“If you do a good job maybe you can even play with her tits while I ride you.”

He’s panting, rough and hot into the back of the blouse she’s wearing, “Carrie, I can’t. I can’t.”

She shifts in his lap again and the sharp dig of her fingernails in his cheek is the only thing that keeps him from blowing his load right there. He’s dragged into eye contact, staring deep into the blue ringed black of her eyes. She’s turned on too.

“At your limit, baby?” she coos, and it’s condescending but sincere. He knows all her inflections even when he’s higher than god and dumber than dirt. “Go get Stevie and we’ll go home. First night of spring break and we’ve already got that big house to ourselves.”

She slips out of his lap, with that last tease, sending him stumbling toward Stevie with a slap to the ass. Tommy stumbles forward, shuffles his feet forward to get to his other best girl. Brain clouding over everything except for his task and what’s going to happen when they get back to Stevie’s room.

There’s money at the edge of the table, and Peters is lining up a shot when Tommy makes it over. He feels drunk, probably looks it, and when he feels like a balloon whose tether is barely being held onto he thinks it’s fine that he lets himself slump into her side. “We’re ready to head out.”

A pile of crumpled bills sits on the edge of the table. Three striped balls sit in a crooked line and the eight ball is beside the corner pocket. Stevie starts to lean her cue against the table when Peters scoffs, “You always go running when you’re called, Harrington. We’re in the middle of the game, there’s money on the table.”

Stevie rolls her eyes, and the money that the guy could have had vanishes even if he doesn’t know it yet. “I usually listen when a girl tells me she’s almost finished,” Stevie says as she waves at Carol, the bitchy little finger wave they used to do in the high school hallway to acknowledge that something has held one of them up. “That’s why I get so many. Maybe it’s why you don’t.”

“You really going to admit to fucking Hagan’s girl right in front of him.”

“If that’s what you think you heard.” Stevie says with a dismissive flick of her hair. “It’s my turn, right? I’m getting bored.”

Peters gestures toward the table, an attitude problem that Tommy clocks through the syrupy slowness his brain has settled into. He pulls his attention closer to the surface of the thick molasses sweetness it’s settled into. Keeping one eye on the way Stevie swaggers to the table and another on the growing problem that is her opponent.

With a decisive stroke, she sinks the line of balls into the side pocket, each of them rolling in one after the other like well behaved school children. She locks eyes with Peters then, ruining the game but making it clear just what mistake he made, as she sends the 8 ball tumbling into the corner pocket.

“Good game, John Boy,” she says, not bothering to look at him as she grabs the pile of bills from the edge and thumbs through each one.

Stevie doesn’t usually take victory laps, but she does like to make people sit in the consequences of their stupid choices occasionally. Doing it now means she misses the way John Peters’ face storms over and the way he menaces toward her.

Tommy doesn’t. And with his higher brain function hidden somewhere deep in a closet. Put to sleep by the way Carol and Stevie have handled him all night. He doesn’t have a chance of stopping the dumber, primal parts of him from reaching forward grabbing the other guy’s arm in a tight fisted grip before he can do something stupid like try to hit Stevie. Violence isn’t his normal go-to. When his brain hasn’t been sanded down by sweet condescension he prefers breaking the tension with a shitty joke or two. But he likes the way he can feel the bones in John’s wrist grind together in his hold. “Don’t.”

“Call off your fucking guard dog, Harrington.” There’s a waver in the plea, a tiny bit of fear that makes him feel almost as good as the obvious pleasure on Stevie’s face.

“If you weren’t being a sore loser I wouldn’t need the guard,” she muses, but Tommy knows her tells. He doesn’t let go until he sees the flick of amusement kissing her smile, right before she says, “Down boy, heel.”

Still he gives one more threatening squeeze to John’s arms before he bares his teeth and lets go. It makes Stevie laugh, which is all Tommy cares about, and the sound of it makes Carol perk up from her spot on the sofa like one of those little prairie rats at the zoo.

Time to go.

Stevie is particular. Likes things neat, tidy, contained.

It means the bed he’s sitting on is actually made. The navy comforter, soft under his palms, is pulled up to the pillows. The sheets beneath probably pulled into hospital corners.

It means she folds each piece of clothing she pulls off Carol. He stares, hungry eyes flitting between the two of them, the milky and freckled skin of Carol’s back and the spread of Stevie’s hand against it. The rosy pink bra gets flicked open with a pinch of two fingers.

“Are you watching, Tom? There’s gonna be a quiz,” Stevie asks, bringing her opposite hand up to pinch a dusky nipple he can just make out in the side profile.

“You’re, ah, confusing the metaphor,” Carrie teases, back arching to put her closer to Stevie who rewards her, bending down to soothe that pinch with a talented mouth.

“Right,” Steve agrees, pulling her mouth away from Carol’s tits long enough to send him a predatory smile. “He’s our puppy.”

He’d be embarrassed by the noise that leaves his mouth if he was thinking much at all any more.

The girls share a look, giggling in a way that makes him feel small and dumb and fantastic.

“That’s a game to play some other time.”

“Feeling impatient, Stevie.”

“Like you aren’t?” She straightens up, sliding her hand up Carol’s thigh. Moving slowly so Tommy can track every inch of creamy skin disappearing and reappearing from under her olive-toned palm. So he can see how her fingers disappear beneath Carol’s pretty purple skirt.

“Wanna guess how wet she is, baby?”

“Please,” Tommy hears himself beg.

“God, Stevie, your fingers,” Carol moans, louder than she’s ever been with him. Turning to catch his eyes from over her shoulder, barely able to hold them open.

“You’re still dressed, baby. You wouldn’t be able to do anything if we came over.” Steie says. Her fingers working in Carrie’s pussy just a vague movement he can barely make out from under the skirt.

“Maybe he’s waiting on you, Stevie. You’re still hiding his special present.” she manages to pant out.

And she is. Carol is half-dressed, tits bare with her skirt still on, one hand clinging to Stevie’s arm. Stevie is fully dressed, arousal evident as she stares down Tommy. Even though they’re in equal states, Tommy feels stripped naked.

Bare beneath Stevie’s knowing gaze.

“That must be it,” Stevie agrees. “Can you get me undressed, baby? Can you do it before I get Carrie off?”

Stevie has a challenge on her face that Tommy is familiar with. The kind they used to share at sleepovers right before a dare, a bet. He’s been trained by years of ‘betcha can’ts’ and triple dog dares.

He tumbles off the bed, mussing the covers in his haste to get to them. Carol is close, he knows, and even though the mess makes Stevie tutt disappointedly every second is one closer to losing.

Crouched on the floor, kneeling at their feet, Tommy can hear the sound of Stevie’s fingers inside Carol. The slick, wet sound of how turned on she is louder than the quick and heavy way she’s breathing. There’s a decision he has to make now, can see in the smug curl of Stevie's lip the choice will have to be all his, what half of his present does he reveal first?

There wasn’t actually any choice. Even as he’s nose to fly with Stevie, Tommy has his hands buried in her stupid shirt. Pushing it up and revealing the trail of hair that’s disappearing into her jeans, the hint of yellow sticking out above them that he hopes he’ll get to see later.

Tommy keeps pushing. Up, up to his toes, revealing more skin as Stevie’s shirt moves up to. Up over her head, off one arm.

It dangles, caught at the elbow of the arm still bringing Carol closer and closer to the edge. Any other time it would be funny, perfect, particular Stevie at any sort of odds. But Tommy's a bit distracted.

With the shirt gone his hands can move back down. Can flirt with the soft cotton on her chest, feel the way the flowers embroidered along the cups are rough against his palms as he cups and squeezes. He relishes in the more firm give of them, more muscled than Carol’s but just as much fun to hold.

Like she can sense him thinking that, shoulder to shoulder like they are Carol turns licking a line up his arm where skin is exposed. The warning he knows to expect before she’s biting down on his cloth covered shoulder. Stevie might have brought her to climax but he’s the tool she’s using to keep herself grounded. His body throbs at the thought, his shoulder where her teeth grind and elsewhere in the places where he’s hard and aching.

Carol lets go. Kisses the spot once, twice. Gasping against his arm, hot breath causing a chill down his spine now, as Stevie pulls out.

The shirt Tommy couldn’t remove slumps down to the floor. The crumpled pile erotic in an abstract way his lit professor would want him to explain. He might have even been able to, if Stevie didn’t bring two wet fingers up to his mouth. They tap his bottom lip, sliding in any way before he can open, rough against his palate and pushing until they can curl back to flirt with his throat. Carol is heavy on his tongue, heavy against his side.

“If you don’t tell him what to do he’ll just grope you all night.” Carrie tells Stevie. She gives him a light shove just too make sure the dig lands.

“It's only the second pair he's ever touched, I thought I'd let him have a little fun.”

The bed squeaks as Carrie throws herself down on it. “Suit yourself,” she says, “I can’t come from his hands fumbling around like he’s trying to open his locker again, but you’ve always been special.”

He’s found her nipple, rubs the bud of it.

“Oh, left 32, right 18, left 67,” Stevie moans fake as that porno he slipped out of the back room at Family Video. Just like that video, he still gets hot.

“Come over here,” Carol purrs, sweet as she can be. She pats the bed beside her and Stevie shrugs off his hands to crawl up into the bed beside her. A hand cupped around one ear, a familiar sight, his two girls whispering, giggling.

“You really think he’s earned it,” Stevie asks, loud enough for Tommy to hear on purpose. Her eyes flick up and down him as a coy smile plays on her lips.

“No,” Carol says, a matching smile on hers. “But if you let him I’ll play with you so you can actually get off.”

“Can’t find your clit so you think he won’t be able to find mine.” Tommy flashes hot under the collar of the shirt he’s still wearing. Stevie’s grin has tipped over from coy to wry, she’s the cat playing with his canary.

“Maybe I wanna have a little fun with you too, babe.”

They're beautiful together, curled into each other on their sides. Only showing off the softest angles of themselves. Soft breasts and the curve of Stevie's gorgeous ass. He would be fine, standing here like a limp dick just watching them play and tease one another. Trading spit that still tastes like house party screwdrivers and shitty beer while they use their hands and bodys to rub one another off. Panting, laughing, squealing, half of the fun in the fact that he only gets to watch and they get to decide what he sees.

He'd be fine with that. His girls are particular and they always know what's going to please them.

Stevie rolls over, shimmies and rolls her hips to work those too tight jeans down. Finally showing the way she's hot and wet and straining against the soft yellow thong he gave her. Carol is already playing with her, running two fingers around the tip.

“Try to get your pants off, Stud.” Stevie orders, “I'll let you get up close with my boobies.”

Carrie's free hand reaches over, pinches Stevie’s nipple hard enough to make her writhe. Tommy struggles harder with the zip on his pants, desperate to get them off.

“That word is disgusting,” Carol says with a sniff. Still playing with Stevie’s clit the same way Tommy has watched her play with herself, two fingers rubbing in slow circles before she drags her thumb down in a firm line.

“Prude, you and Robin should play together.”

There's something small and devious in her smile that he decides is for Stevie to handle. He is too worried about the way the band of the bra he bought is being folded, curled carefully he assumes for him.

“If he were smarter I'd say he planned this,” Carrie says. “No underwire, that silky band.”

“We'll see how it holds up, you know I hate when people ruin my things when they're careless.”

His shirt is still on. Dick out and leaking, he'll definitely stain it. It's more important to get on the bed, to crawl up the side Carol isn't on. “Throw your leg over. Try not to act like such a virgin.” Stevie demands.

He does, straddles her chest, tucking his knees into the hollow beneath her arms. She grins when he's settled into place, reaches up to yank his shirt off before bringing both hands up to push her tits together.

He thursts once, by accident, dick slipping under the band of the bra gripped by it and the shallow channel she’s made for him. Tommy looks, locks eyes with her feeling like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Instead of chatizing, instead of lecture, she raises a brow and it says ‘just this once he can have dessert before dinner.’ Or maybe it says ‘good dog’ or ‘A+’, he’s lost track of what’s he’s supposed to be other than theirs and listening.

The hand on Carol’s side of the bed lets go. Moved down until it’s making her whine, touching her sensitive places, Stevie getting her fingers wet again too soon after the first time. And as Carol bites at Stevie’s neck and shoulder with a renewed focus on getting the other woman to cum, Stevie is getting him wet.

She takes that slick she’s gathered from Carol, mixes it with the pre he’s been leaking all night.

When she’s done she presses her tits back togheter. Tommy is still looking her in the eyes, stunned, when she spits.

It drips down the head, pools in the concave of her chest. “Be a good boy and get yourself off.”

Tommy doesn’t need to be told twice. Is barely given permission before he’s rutting against her chest. Chasing that friction, the release he’s been craving for hours. He’s been on edge for longer than he’s ever been before, he feels like some sad virgin. A two-pump chump. Like a stiff breeze could do him in. And right as he’s reaching the precipice, Stevie grabs ahold of him and pushes once again.

Tongue out, she catches him on the upward thrust. Swirls that pink, pink tongue around the head.

And he’s done for.

He cums hard. Catching Stevie's mouth, her chin, dripping down her chest. A pearl necklace that touches the edges of those yellow, triangle cups.

Hard enough that he isn't sure he's not just dreaming of how good she looks. Cause he's pretty sure once he finally cums he blacks out.

Sometime, he’s not even sure how much later, he realizes that Stevie and Carol are talking. Tommy has been manuvered into the middle. Flat on his back, Carol is sitting high on the bed, propped up by pillows and running her fingers through his hair; her nails scratch at his scalp every few passes. Stevie is tucked in tight to his side, nose buried into his chest, head pillowed on his arm.

“All I'm saying is I thought she was hot when she had that awful perm junior year.’

“You can't call dibs on a person, that's feminism.” Stevie murmurs back, answer slow and half slurred with sleep.

“She’s your best friend. Convince her when you go pick her up from campus tomorrow.”

Stevie snorts, an ugly, ungraceful sound that usually means she's thought of something she isn't going to share. “What's in it for me?”

They both know he's awake again, they know each other too well for the girls not to. But if he wasn't sure, Carol sinking her fingers in his hair and tugging, pulling him up and baring his neck for Stevie would cinch it for him.

“I'll let you play with the puppy,” she says. “You can have him all to yourself.”

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Stevie’s smile spreads slow across her face, he can feel it against the thin skin of his ribs.

A shiver runs down his spine, fear, arousal, anticipation. He can only imagine the plans Stevie must be dreaming up for just the two of them. She is, after all, very particular.

#stomarol #my fic #smut #genderfluid steve harrington #stevie harrington #mild referenced puppy play #sorry i cant help myself i love a little dog imagery in my dom/sub #some implied bubblescoops too #its my new favorite thing ive been rotating it in my brain #mean girls trio #fun fact this was going to be my stevie week day 7 fic and then i never finished it #anyway enjoy

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therealcocoshady · 1 year ago

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Recovery - Chapter 25

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Em has trouble handling the breakup when Jamal shows up with bad news.

Tags : ANGST, Comfort

MARSHALL’S POV

The hardest part about grieving his relationship with Y/N was that he didn’t really have anyone to talk to about it, since they hardly told anyone. The only people who knew about the breakup were Talia, Jamal and Hailie. For obvious reasons, he didn’t feel like telling his daughter how sad he was over a relationship she didn’t approve of. Jamal had actually reached out a couple of times, saying that he was sorry it was over with Y/N and that he was here if he needed to talk, but seeing as he was his ex’s roommate, Marshall didn’t feel too comfortable with the idea.

Ever since the breakup, a couple weeks ago, he was in a state of constant mood swings : he would find himself in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling for hours, before being overcome by anger, followed by deep sadness. He was fifty-one, feeling like a heart-broken teenager, lonely and sad in a huge house whose every corner reminded him of Y/N. It was the most depressing place in the world and yet, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. This led him to do something extremely out of character : canceling studio sessions for two weeks and staying in bed most of the time. He also dodged most calls and failed to answer texts - not that he was too good at keeping up with it anyway. Most of the time, he wondered where Y/N was at, what she was doing, how she was feeling. The sadness he had seen in her eyes as they parted ways haunted him.

It was sunday and, as usual, he was having his kids and their significant others over for family brunch. He tried his best to put on a happy face but to no avail.

Dad ? Are you even listening to me ? Stevie asked, interrupting his train of thoughts.

Sorry, I wasn’t, he admitted. Mind repeating ?

I was thinking of getting a pet snake. I just don’t know which one yet.

That made him chuckle for the first time in a week. Stevie and pets - a greater love story than most.

Don’t you have enough of a zoo ? He asked. It’s a lot of work. And don’t forget school.

I know, Dad. “School is important, blah, blah, blah”, she gestured imitating him.

Well it’s my job to remind you, he shrugged. Anyway, don’t count on me for pet-sitting.

Me neither, Hailie said with a hint of disgust.

Neither, Alaina chimed in.

Fine, Stevie said as she rolled her eyes.

Marshall went back to his thoughts, letting his kids argue about what kind of unusual pet was the worst : spiders or snakes. He thought about Y/N and how she would feel about the debate, knowing full-well that she had a phobia of both.

It’s probably not too wise to have a pet snake with a baby on the way, though, Stevie said.

This caused Marshall to spit his orange juice.

You’re pregnant ?! He blurted out.

Now we’ve got your attention, she said with a grin as everyone laughed. I’m kidding.

Very funny, he said sarcastically. Thanks for the heart attack by the way. I’m not ready to be a grandpa just yet.

You do know that Hailie and I are older than you when you became a Dad, right ? Alaina asked.

True, he hummed. Stevie is not, though. You can’t have a baby, you’re still one.

I’m 21, she said as she rolled her eyes. But relax, I don’t want kids anyway.

That’s my girl, he said with a smile.

All I’m saying is that you could be a grandpa someday soon, Alaina continued. Now that we’re married, Matt and I might decide to start trying.

You’d be good parents, he said with a smile. I mean, I’ll never be ready for that day, but I guess a new addition to the family would be welcome. Not a snake, though.

How about you ? Stevie asked.

What about me ? He hummed.

Well you broke up with Nicole months ago, but maybe you’ll be the one bringing someone new to the family, she said. We’re out of the house and we don’t want you to be lonely, right ? I swear, it feels like you’re not even trying…

He stared at Hailie who tried to hide a scoff by faking a cough. Obviously, she had been true to her words and hadn’t told her sisters anything - not that there was anything to say anymore…

Let’s put it this way, he sighed. There’s more chances of me getting a pet snake than bringing a lady into this family.

His tone was dry and sarcastic. Now that Y/N was gone, he felt like he might actually end up alone. But in the end, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be with anyone if he wasn’t with her. The perspective of even holding the hand of someone else was rebutting to him. Hailie looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

We’re short on pancakes, she said. I’ll make some. Help me in the kitchen, Dad ?

That was a lame excuse, but he followed her anyway.

What’s wrong with you ? She asked with a worried face once they were alone.

Nothing, he said.

Dad… You haven’t paid attention all day, you look like you haven’t slept in ages and you implied that there’s nothing going on in your love life when we both know it’s not true, she stated.

There’s nothing going on anymore, Hay, he said dryly. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but I would appreciate it if you waited for me to leave the kitchen before you do some happy dance of celebration.

Don’t snap at me, she said as her eyebrows furrowed.

Sorry, he said as he pinched the area between his eyes. You’re right. I am tired and I shouldn’t be taking it out on anyone.

So… It’s over ? She asked calmly.

Yeah.

He didn’t bother commenting on the circumstances of the breakup.

Want to talk about it ? She offered.

I’m good, he said as he took her in his arms. I just need some rest. I’m taking a small break from recording, that’ll do me some good.

I thought you were close to being done with the new album ?

It can wait, he said. I need to chill for a bit.

I’m worried for you, Dad…

Don’t. I’ll get over it, he said.

“Chickens they come they go”, she playfully sung his lyrics.

Thanks for quoting the clean version, he chuckled.

They shared a laugh. In this moment, he was grateful for his family and especially his daughters.

6 WEEKS LATER

The two week break ended up turning into a month and a half long one. He came up with various excuses but in the end, it didn’t really matter. He didn’t feel like seeing anyone besides his family and he was in no mood to work anyway. Everytime he tried to write something, it felt like a disaster. His inspiration seemed to have run dry.

However, his friends were persistent and, once they understood that he was definitely screening the calls, they took turns showing up at his place to make sure he was alright. The official version was that he was a bit burnt-out. He was not sure if he should come clean about his breakup. He was starting to feel the need to talk about it, to talk about Y/N. She had tried to call him a couple of times but he did not pick up. Not that he didn’t want to, though. He just knew it would hurt too much.

Jamal had also reached out a couple more times but Marshall did not answer. He thought his friend got the hint, but he ended up showing up unannounced, late one night.

Anyone dies ? Marshall asked after greeting him.

Might as well be you, Jamal answered. We haven’t heard from you in ages, man. And no offense, but you look deceased, too.

Well… You know.

They stared at each other in agreement.

Can I come in ? His friend finally asked. I brought you some stuff.

You didn’t have to, man.

It’s just a pack of red bull, food Talia made for you, some beats for you to listen to and a care package.

A care package ? Marshall asked amused. What are you ? My great-aunt ?

Actually, it’s from Y/N.

Oh, he simply said.

He gestured for Jamal to come in and they went to the living room.

Thank Talia for me, he said as he rummaged through the bags his friends had brought.

Will do.

Should I wait for you to leave to open the mystery package ? He asked.

Up to you, man, Jamal said. I mostly came to check up on you. We’re all worried about you.

I appreciate it, man. Thanks. I’m good. I just need some time to adjust, you know ? He said.

I bet, Jamal replied. It’s going to be weird, not having her hanging out at the studio anymore. We all got used to her being there.

Well, we decided to remain friends, Marshall explained. So, she’s welcome anytime. I know everyone loves her and I don’t want it to be weird.

Jamal looked at him with a confused expression.

You really have unplugged, haven’t you ?

Sort of, yeah. Why ?

His friend kept on staring at him for a few seconds. It was uncomfortable and it felt as if he was about to tell him that a zombie apocalypse had erupted.

Man, I don’t know how to tell you this but…. She’s gone, Jamal said.

What do you mean ? Marshall asked.

Shit. I thought you knew, or at least that you had a vague idea… I know you didn’t pick up her calls, but she tried to text you. Several times, his friend explained.

What does it fucking mean ? He asked as he was starting to lose his patience. What do you mean she’s gone ?!

We drove her to the airport this afternoon, man. She’s moving back to France. She just handed her doctoral dissertation and she pulled something to convince them to let her do the defense thing remotely.

Why would she do that ? Marshall scoffed.

Dude, she’s a mess, Jamal said. She wouldn’t get out of her room for days. She barely ate, didn’t sleep. Talia had to help her showering and shit. We almost sent her to a psych ward. She stopped talking for weeks.

Why didn’t you call me ?! He asked angrily. Why am I just finding out now ?

She made me swear not to, man. She couldn’t face you. When she took the decision to move back, we convinced her to let you know, but I guess you didn’t see the texts…

She’s… gone ? Marshall asked again, in disbelief.

Yeah. You should check the package, Jamal said. When she didn’t get any response from you, she prepared it and told me to give it to you once she was gone. I have no idea what’s in there, though.

Marshall wasted no time and tore up the carefully wrapped bow to unveil what was inside. There were a bunch of envelopes and two presents.

I can leave you to it, if you want, Jamal offered.

I don’t mind, Marshall shrugged as he kept on staring at the content of the box. Fuck. I had no idea she would fucking leave…

He went back to his unboxing. He opened a first envelope, that contained a few pictures of them, that she had printed : a selfie of the whole crew, taken on the first day they met - she was shyly posing next to him as he flipped the camera -, two picture from their time in the hospital - a selfie of her as she pointed to him asleep in a chair next to her bed and a selfie of the two of them laying in bed next to each other - as well as the selfies they had taken as a couple. He looked at the pictures for a long time, failing to believe he wouldn’t see that face again and that she was in a whole different time zone.

In the second envelope was a printing of the “acknowledgement” section of her dissertation. Everyone she knew from the studio was listed by name, including him, who had a whole paragraph that read “To MBMIII, thank you for welcoming me with open arms and believing in me. This work would not have been possible without your help and encouragement. Thank you for inspiring me to believe in my dreams and to lose myself in the moment and own it. In doing so, I found inspiration but also who I am. I am forever grateful for you, more than words will ever convey”. He read the paragraph at least ten times. He couldn’t believe she had actually quoted his lyrics to thank him. This made him smile and almost tear up. His heart was swelling with pride for her finally being done with her work, as well as sadness.

The third envelope contained a handwritten letter :

“Dear Marshall,

By the time you read this, I will most likely be back in France. I wish I had the chance to say goodbye in person, but you wouldn’t pick up the phone. I am not sure why, but I guess I can’t blame you. Leaving Detroit, a place I have called home for the past few years has been a tough decision - probably the hardest one after leaving you. I knew I would have to go back home eventually, but I decided to leave early because I cannot see straight anymore. Every street, every corner, every stone reminds me of you. I cannot sleep in this bed knowing I won’t wake up next to you. I cannot keep breathing and existing in all the places you made me feel seen, loved and appreciated, knowing I can’t feel you near. Every little thing is a reminder of what once was and will not be again. And being reminded that I once had everything and lost it is too much pain. But in truth, I am not writing this letter to complain, but to say thank you. You walked into my life when I needed support, and you gave me exactly what I needed : love, encouragement and inspiration. Meeting you is one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I will forever be grateful. Your generosity and everything that you are takes my breath away. But as I am writing this letter, I am reminded that I am only human, in desperate need of oxygen. I need to leave because I have to save myself from drowning. I cannot allow myself to hope that you will reach for me, as I foreswore that right - if I ever had it. I broke both of our hearts but I am hopeful that they can be mended. You deserve nothing but love, joy and happiness and I pray that you find it wherever you go, whatever you do, whoever you meet.

I love you and I always will.

Yours forever,

Y/N

PS : I hope you don’t mind the cheesy quotation of your lyrics. I have been catching up on your music because I needed to hear your voice. Also, it is hard to exist without your talent and your way with words.

PPS : I have finally listened to your whole catalog. Every single, every album, every feature. I did not think it was possible, but it makes me love you even more.”

Marshall could feel his heart sink as he read her letter. He could feel her sadness and her pain, her bleeding love in each word. He wished that he could reach her and pull her close to him. At that moment, he knew that letting her go was his biggest mistake. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Fuck, he said.

You good ? Jamal asked after a few seconds, reminding him of his presence.

I… I guess.

He finally opened the two presents. These were fancy packages from Montblanc. He scoffed, as he definitely didn’t deserve such a big gesture. If anything, he should be the one to treat her to the finer things in life, not the other way around. In the first package was a beautiful leather embossed notebook with a note written in pencil on the first page : “May you be inspired to fill these pages with good rhymes and good bars. I cannot wait to listen to the whole album. You got this and I believe in you.”.

The second package contained a fancy, beautiful pen. From the looks of it, it was a collectible. The first thing he did with it was to write her name underneath her note, in ink. He needed her name to be there, permanently.

By the time he was done opening the presents, he was openly sobbing and it didn’t matter that Jamal or anyone else was here. For the first time in ages, the pain in his chest was so real that he thought he would have a heart attack. He found himself bent in two, crouching on the couch, sobbing and feeling every bit of the pain he had tried to suppress. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. He tried to focus on happy thoughts, but he couldn’t think of anything. The only image in his brain was her face.

FUCK, he screamed into the nothingness.

Every emotion he had ever felt, every moment of pain and grief seemed to hit him all at once. His mom, his bullies, Ronnie, Kim, Proof, his overdose, Y/N.

Fuck, he whispered under his breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was all he would say.

Marshall, he heard Jamal say in an echo. Do you need anything ? Anyone ?

Y/N, he said as he kept sobbing. I need Y/N. I need her. I need to talk to her. My phone. Now.

He heard Jamal hurry and rummage through the mess in his living room, trying to find his phone before handing it to him. He turned it on for the first time in days and he was immediately flooded by the incoming notifications that caused the phone to lag for a bit. He had about a hundred phone calls, a thousand unread emails and about fifty unread texts. Most of them were from his manager, his friends and his kids, but a few of them were from Y/N. She had really tried to reach out to him.

From Y/N : I hope you’re doing well. I need to talk to you. Can you please call me back ?

From Y/N : Please call back ? It’s important.

From Y/N : I can’t reach you and I wish I didn’t have to tell you over a lousy text, but I’m leaving Detroit. I’m going back to France. My plane leaves on Tuesday night.

From Y/N : I don’t know if you got my texts ? Or if you’re ignoring them ? I’d like to say goodbye. Can I come by ?

From Y/N : You probably don’t want to see me. I’m sorry for disturbing you. In case you change your mind, my plane leaves at 6:35 PM.

From Y/N : Boarding now. It’s my last text, I swear. Goodbye Marshall. I love you.

There it was. Her last text. She had actually given him the opportunity to see her one last time. He could have held her. Maybe he could have convinced her to stay. But he blew it. He needed to call her and apologize. All he wanted was to crawl back to her. He needed her. To hear her voice. Anything. He tried calling but it went straight to voicemail. By looking at the time, he guessed she was on the plane and that her phone was on airplane mode. It was too late.

He stared at the screen, feeling angry at himself. In a fit of rage, he threw the phone across the room and heard the screen break. Once he realized it meant he might not have her texts, he went to get it back. The screen was broken but still working. Once again, he felt mad. He punched the nearest wall. Then a painting. Then a mirror. In a matter of minutes, he found himself in a state, nearly trashing his living room. Jamal stopped him and held him for a long time before he stopped debating himself. Luckily, his friend was far taller and stronger than him, so he had no trouble containing him.

Man, you need to calm down. Breathe.

I can’t, Marshall replied panting. What the fuck’s happening to me ?!

The tears started to flow again, as he realized he might be losing his mind. Jamal engulfed him in a hug - something different than their usual bro-hugs. This time, he felt like a small child crying in the arms of their parents. On any other day, he’d cringe, but he was deperate.

I got you, bro, Jamal said.

She’s gone.

I know.

It took a couple of minutes for him to be able to breathe normally and think straight again.

Man, I know you’re my boss, but I’m talking as your friend here. Because I care. You need help. You’re not staying in this house by yourself, Jamal said.

As much as he wanted to protest, Marshall found himself nodding. In the studio, Jamal acted as a soldier and did as he was told, but in real life, he had a presence to him and an authority that made people think twice before discussing his orders.

It’s no Mathers Mansion, but you’re welcome to stay at my place, Jamal said.

You don’t mind ?

I don’t. You can take the couch or the guest bedroom.

Ok.

He went upstairs and started packing his stuff for a few days. As they stepped outside, he felt a sudden wave of relief. He had to get out of there. He needed to get away and recover, otherwise he would go crazy.

#eminem fluff #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #eminem fanfiction #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers #eminem #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #slim shady

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minispidey · 1 year ago

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if you do one shots, could you do one where bimbo gf (reader) and steven get halloween costumes. i’ll try to explain best i can, but reader puts bag of their costumes in the bathroom . reader got a playboy bunny, but it is still in the bag. reader tells steven to change into costume but steven gets confused and changes into the playboy bunny one and is very flustered. ik this is a very long request but i NEED more bimboxsteven

YOU'RE A BUNNY, DUH!

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader.

warnings: suggestive content, bimbo is really horknee okay??

a/n: hi babes! ty for requesting this! had to do this before october ended for halloween because duhhh it's halloween! i had such a huge writer's block (plus i got sick) and this is as good as i can write at the moment. again, ty for the request! so sorry it's short!

If there's a season your little bimbo heart loved more than spring, it's definitely autumn. The smell of the fresh cold air, the pumpkins, the leaves falling down on your hair, and of course— halloween.

It was your first halloween in London. You planned like crazy to have the best night ever with your boyfriend (which consisted of non stop fucking in your flat at first) and bought costumes for you two to hit up a couple pubs.

Knowing how shy Steven is when it came to how sexy you are, you wanted to wear something revealing. You wanted to drive him crazy and make him fuck you right there at that very moment he looks at you.

"Stevie!" your voice boomed in his flat, following the sound of you shutting his door "I'm back, baby!"

"I'm in bed, love!" he responded. Steven sets his book down and takes off his glasses, watching you walk towards him.

"Hi, Stevie. I missed you so much!" you straddled him and cupped his face "I got your costume~"

"You went shopping for three hours, love. I'm just here. I could've come with you if you wanted." Steven then rests his head in between your breasts, taking in your scent.

"Why don't you go try it on? It's in the bathroom. I'll show you mine later."

"It's that much of a surprise that you left it in the loo? Is it naughty?"

"Later." you began to squeal when Steven began blowing raspberries into your breasts "Stevie! I promise, later!" you giggled before playfully pushing him away.

Steven laughed at your reaction and smiled at you "Alright, alright. If you got me a ghost face costume, you're in for a rough night."

"I'm counting on it~"

"Cheeky."

Steven got up and watched as you lied down in his previous position and smiled. He walked inside the bathroom and closed the door behind me before digging into the pink shopping bag.

His eyebrows furrowed before his eyes widened "What the..." he takes out a pink corset and pink silk panties, along with pink stockings.

"She has to be kidding." Marc says from the headspace. Steven looks up into the mirror to find Marc judging him "No way are we coming out of this place wearing that."

"Come on, she probably looked for it for hours... I don't wanna make her sad..."

"Honesty is the best policy."

"Honesty hurts people sometimes." Steven sighed before taking his shirt off.

"You're serious?!"

"Stevie? You've been in there a while considering all you needed to wear was a sheet and a mask..." you knocked on the bathroom door before pacing back and fourth again, waiting.

The lock of the door clicked and the door opened wide, Steven stepping out in a pink playboy bunny costume, complete with a bunny tail and ears.

You covered your mouth and held in your laugh "Steven?"

"Does it look bad?"

"No no! It's just that..." you giggled "That's actually mine."

"Wait what?" Steven's eyes widened.

You walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck "But you know... you look so fucking hot..." you breathed into his neck. Your left leg hooked behind his leg and you started placing kisses along his collar bone.

"L-Love?"

"I want you to fuck me. Right here right now."

Steven froze for a moment before slowly nodding and started to pull down the silk panties and stockings. Your hand stopped him.

"The costume stays on, Stevie... take your cock out."

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant smut #minirevengers requests #x bimbo reader #x bimbo!reader #bimbo!reader

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superblysubpar · 2 years ago

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potentially very silly thought that’s been on my mind for forever so feel free to ignore! but stevie has glasses right? but he never wears them bc he doesn’t like how they look/doesn’t believe he really needs them (spoiler: he does). imagine dad!steve’s little baby comin back from the doctor and needing specs :( and his kid is all sad bc they think they’ll get bullied and that they look silly, but dad!steve puts on his like “see? glasses are cool, bud!” and they wear them together <3

dad!steve harrington x mom!fem! reader

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: steve's kiddo doesn't want to get glasses | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

1.7kwords

Spring, 1993:

Steve rubbed at his forehead as he stirred the spaghetti sauce on the stove. Grace had fought him for hours, screaming and crying and throwing toys at him. He knew that all she needed was a nap but she refused, insisted that she wasn’t tired and wailed with a set of lungs that gave her Uncle Eddie a run for their money. He’s used to headaches by now though - too many hits to the head over the years and what felt like a constant squint to see things clearer, toddler tantrums were nothing when it came to the things that caused him headaches.

But that didn’t mean he wanted her to wake up anytime soon. So when the loud crack of the front door handle hitting the wall pulled him from his thoughts he rushed out of the kitchen, hushing loudly. Whisper-shouting to you and your oldest, “Hey, hey, Grace is finally asleep!”

Nora kicked the wall as she tried to take off her shoes and coat at the same time, a flourish and frenzy of tiny grunts and zippers clicking together. Yellow dots on her sneakers lighting up and the yellow of her rain coat a fast moving blur - yellow was the color, or so he’s been told repeatedly by her in the last two weeks. He looked past his yellow blob of movement to see you slowly following her up the steps, rubbing your temple.

Oh boy.

Nora was six. Opinionated and strong and curious. Sometimes she shocked them with her big ideas and her logic-searching questions, but every once in a while they were reminded she was in fact, a kid. A tiny human with too big of feelings and not always the right words to describe them. Right now, he’d bet money on some very large feelings bubbling up inside of her, and he just didn’t know if he could handle another tantrum. Her brown curls a mess like she’d run her hands through them too many times (a habit you’ve pointed out she picked up from him before she could walk), her face flushed and her jaw clenched, tiny hands trying to get her coat off too quickly and a furrow between her brows when it wouldn’t cooperate.

Steve bent down to her level, hands reaching out towards her, "Hey cutie, slow down. Let me help-"

"No! I can do it myself!" tiny hands forming fists and a fury behind her eyes that would be alarming if she wasn't so small and cute. This was another new development - dad yellow is the color of the moment and oh by the way I’m a big girl now. It’s a lot for a dad to wrap his head around.

Steve raised his hands up in surrender, "Okay, sure."

As you closed the door softly, Steve looked up and mouthed, "What happened?"

You gestured to your eyes, forming glasses with your fingers as you mouthed the word at the same time.

His brow furrowed because why in the world would she be so upset about glasses? Heart breaking that she’s obviously incredibly worked up about something that isn’t really an argument if she needs them.

As she flung her coat to the ground and went to stomp around it he snaked his arm around her waist, "Oh no you don't,” she huffed and crossed her arms as he squeezed her waist, “Nora, what's wrong?"

"I don't want them!" she cried out, stomping her foot against his thigh as he stood up holding her.

Steve pushed a stray curl from her forehead, faking obliviousness, "Don't want what? You gotta catch dad up here."

Her chin wobbled as she looked anywhere but at his face and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. How can she hate glasses so much? She’s six!

Nora clings to his neck as he goes back to the kitchen, the heat turned down and stirring it once more as they sat in silence, her little huffs of frustration mixing with the bubbling sauce. He’d wait patiently until she wanted to tell him. You followed wordlessly behind, pulling down a cup for water and setting it across from him. Steve’s arm supported under her butt and he leaned against the counter to face you.

Nora spoke finally, quietly and forced out of her pouting lips, "Glasses."

Steve rubbed her back with one hand, cheek resting on top of her head and sighed. She was way too big to hold like this anymore, and he missed it.

"Baby, why don't you want glasses, huh? Lots of people wear glasses,” you questioned softly from your spot at the otherside of the counter.

Nora mumbled into his neck, "Daddy doesn’t like them. People make fun of glasses."

Steve made eye contact with you over the top of her head, swallowing harshly and blinking away tears. A small and sad smile rested on your lips. You leaned your chin into your palm and sighed, raising your eyebrows at him.

His heart dropped into his stomach as he set her down on the counter and cleared his throat, “I love my glasses, what are you talking about?”

Nora shook her head quickly, curls flying everywhere, a deep breath as crocodile tears fell down her cheeks. Voice wobbly and on the cusp of some big sobs ready to break as she spoke rushed and loudly, “No. No you do-n’t. Mommy, you, y-you told Mommy that…that…” she hiccuped but pushed on, “Losers wear glasses. And, and Jacob…hims said…he…people who wear glasses are weird and, and…”

As Nora kept going Steve clenched his fists against the counter. He’d take back any and every thought he’d had about glasses if he could. He could throw up from the guilt swirling in his stomach, that he was somehow a part of the reason his little girl was so worked up about something she needed. Something so tiny and materialistic. He’d fix this. He had to fix this.

“Woah, woah, who’s this Jacob kid and what does he know, huh?” He kissed the top of her head, pushing curls from her face that clung to her wet cheeks.

“Jacob, daddy,” she sighed his name out, bored and exasperated like Steve should know while she hiccuped again.

Steve nodded, face serious as he snapped his fingers and you smiled from behind her, “Right, that Jacob. Okay, but babe, Jacob doesn’t know what he's talking about. He doesn't know the super special secret."

Nora's hands swiped at her cheeks, "Secret?"

Nodding he chucked the side of his knuckle under her chin and handed her the glass of water, "Super special secret."

Nora's eyes went wide above the rim of the cup and you bit the inside of your cheek as Steve nodded and leaned in, "Only people who wear glasses get to know the super special secret," he glanced at you, “Oh, and mommy’s.”

"Tell me," Nora whined, fidgeting and tugging at his shirt.

"Well, the secret is, is that people who wear glasses are super duper crazy awesome. They can see better, like superhero vision,” the small white lies building as her smile grew and he spoke with his hands, “And because they can see better they can read faster and get smarter. They can see so good with their glasses that they can sneak into the kitchen in the dark for late night snacks and-"

You made a disgruntled noise from the back of your throat and shook your head, mouthing the word no, but tried to hide your smile.

Steve grinned wider at you but Nora frowned, not buying it. Too smart for her own good as she countered, "But, daddy, you don't wear your glasses. And you said lose-"

"You're right, I did say that,” he bit the inside of his cheek and ran his hand through his hair before waving them around, “But that's because I didn't want anyone to know how cool the super special secret is. But now," he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "I can wear mine all the time because I'm not alone! We can be crazy awesome together."

"Really?" Nora looked up at him, wide eyed and hopeful and he had to blink back tears again.

"Really, really," he brushed the last stray tear slipping down her cheek, "Go grab mine for me and we can head to the store and pick out yours together."

He lifted her and set her down and she raced away. Steve fell forward onto the counter, moaning as he pressed his forehead to the cold tile.

He listened as you stood, holding his breath until he felt your arms wrapping around his waist. A kiss between his shoulder blades before he spun to face you.

He pressed his nose into your cheek as you whispered, “Good job, dad.”

He huffed, not unsimilar to his daughter and mumbled, "I hate my glasses."

You hummed, running your hands up his back before speaking, "I love your glasses,” you laughed and kissed his jaw, voice laced with fake shock and wonder, “And why would you hate them? Didn't you hear the super special secret, Steve?"

Moved to your neck, he grumbled, "Ugh, I'm gonna punch that Jacob in the face."

A laugh bubbled out of you as you squeezed his waist, a kiss to his temple as you reminded him, "He's six, Steve."

"Right. Well. Maybe his dad then," he kissed your neck and removed himself as tiny feet raced back down the hall.

"Woah! You're right daddy! I can see crazy awesome!"

He stood up fully to see Nora zooming around the corner with his glasses on her face too big and dangerously close to falling completely off and you covered your smile with your hand.

He swiped the glasses from Nora and slid them up his own nose. Picking her up he smiled and asked, "Should we go pick out yours now?"

Nora nodded excitedly and bounced up and down once her feet were back on the floor, energy radiating off of her as he tied her shoes and zipped her coat.

When they returned home, she nearly broke his arm, she was tugging so hard, "Mommy! Mommy! Look, look, look!"

You came around the corner holding his sleepy toddler and grinned, "Woah! Yellow! Crazy awesome!"

As he turned to close the door Nora beamed and shouted, "Daddy said the yellow was even more super special because yellow would help me see the cookies waay on the top shelf better."

Steve bit his lip as he spun to face you shaking your head, a smile twitching on your lips. He shrugged and stole Grace out of your arms with a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled, “Yellow is the best color, mom.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and I hope you consider reblogging my work to get it circulated to new readers - thanks for being here 💛

#steve harrington #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff

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hotluncheddie · 2 years ago

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I was thinking about how Steve would deal with his sexuality crisis and how when he's tryna figure everything out he maybe has this moment of panic because he thought he'd stopped lying to himself and trying to be someone he's not but maybe that's not the case at all and he hasn't stopped pretending at all. And he just starts spiralling and it makes him want to stop thinking about pretend it isn't there so he just shoves it into a proverbial box so he can ignore it

:( sad stevie baby hours for us then anon?

sad sad self sabotaging steve. my dude. my wet little guy.

the idea that he though he was doing better, being himself, not lying to anyone not even when he’s alone. maybe he doesn’t like change and he’s hanging on to fragments more closely now, gripping things tightly in his palms. where he used just let it wash over him, no point giving it thought, things don’t change anyway. but then everything did, right? everything changed and so did he and now he has all this stuff. all this stuff attached directly to his heart strings.

and then he likes boys.

he likes girls but he likes boys. has liked boys. wants boys, too.

now there's boys and he starts to shut down.

Just that feeling of 'i'm doing better' but then it kinda turn into 'okay i'm tired lets just get though it' then it keeps going 'just one more week, just one more day' and then you look around and it feels like everything you've built in crumbling away around you. and that person you built up and thought you created was actually formed on a mudslide, your foundations were never gonna hold. it's all fallen apart without you really noticing

he doesn't have the words to describe how. there's a war happening between what he thinks he should feel, what maybe he does feel and who he thinks he is. who he was and who he wants to be are there somewhere too. but it's lost in the soup of his head.

but he has robin right? with her bright light and unconditional love. but this thing, this new thing. he's always been that right? this boy girl thing. so, he's a liar then. he never told her so he lied. lied to bright, beautiful robin. how could he have done that?

and there's eddie. eddie so much a part of this boy girl thing. eddie who feels like he could be his. feels like summer rain on his skin, feels like citrus tang on his tongue. but eddie knows who he is, think so deeply and is so true, so distinctly and explosively himself. and steve doesn't even know one bit about who he is. not really. not now. after this thing. its torn it all down. everything changed again but this time the cracks aren't through the town they're in his skin, at his roots.

can't bring eddie into that. can't let robin risk falling in.

but then maybe they jump through those cracks, start hiding things in the crevices. little beams of starlight and greenery. start helping him see that those cracks are quite pretty, maybe they let you see a little more of his skin. that this mud slide he's on feels a lot like grounding. like barefeet on grass and leaves turning with the sun. that maybe this boy girl thing is new, and old, and its so so steve. that maybe he can be okay again, build something new and live a little differently. but still true. because its always been true right? all those feeling, all those smaller him's and things locked away. they're peeking out of the cracks now. peaking out into this thing. this thing he can be. always be and always play with. even if it takes along time, that okay, it'll take all his life, maybe. to figure out he likes oranges, likes daisies the most, likes girls, like boys, likes this trying to be himself.

and maybe those hidden crevices start to shine a little brighter, the plants start to bloom. maybe robin never left and never will, find him a bathroom floor all his own. sees that always and right now are sisters and she can take his heart and keep it next to her own, until he's ready to have it back again, hold it real safe this time.

and eddie keeps turning up on his tongue, keeps dripping all over his skin. becomes his eddie. bis boy. his one. his new side of the boy girl thing. a this boy thing and love thing. romance on the mudslide. kisses under starlight.

#couldn't let him just be sad #dunno if it answered ur ask but it felt good to write #felt a little cool and little cozy to write #ty for the ask as always #lovely anon #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #<3 #sad stevie baby hours #stobin #ask #drabbles

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years ago

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Request: THIS IDEA JUST SPARKED HOLY SHIT?? OK have you ever watched Hot Ones with Sean Evens (first we feast is the youtube channel) so basically that but Steve is the one being interviewed but he LOVES spicy food??(watch the episode with Florence Pugh i LOVE it but basically I want it to be kinda like that) just yeah that. Jxjxnxnx please and thank you

MY LOVE ❤️ I admit, most of what I watch of really anything is either highlights on Tik Tok or short clips my friends send me because I am out of touch with the cool kids. But Hot Ones is SO GOOD. The Lewis Capaldi episode (I do love him anyways) had me actually almost pee my pants laughing. I hope you love this fun (short, sorry) thing for this! - Mickala ❤️

-------------------------------------------------

“I just don’t know why you got Hot Ones. They could have had the whole band on there making idiots of themselves,” Eddie pouted.

He’d been pouting for two days now.

In fact, his entire band was from the moment Steve called him on tour to let him know that he would be doing the Hot Ones interview next week.

“I told you, they had a last minute cancellation and my schedule just worked. Maybe you’ll get next season,” Steve said over the phone as the oven timer went off to let him know his brownies were done cooking.

“Whatcha makin’ Stevie?” Eddie’s curiosity was adorable.

He was in London, just got off stage from their last show in Europe. Steve was in their home in LA, having the last lazy day in before his awards season started.

“If I tell you, you’ll be sad you’re missing it.”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Gareth said from much closer than Steve would have expected.

“Hi Gare Bear. No personal space tonight?”

Eddie laughed as Steve pulled the brownies out of the oven and shut it off.

“He said personal space is for people who don’t like each other and he likes me very much,” Steve could hear Eddie’s eye roll in his voice. “A shame because I can’t stand him.”

“Play nice boys. You’ll be home in less than 24 hours,” Steve reminded them.

Gareth lived a mile up the road from them with his boyfriend and their excessive amount of cats.

Excessive being four.

Steve was allergic, so any amount of cats seemed excessive to him.

But Steve and Gareth were close, had been since even before Eddie and Steve started dating.

He was Steve’s best man in their wedding, much to Dustin’s bafflement. He only didn’t argue because Eddie softened the blow by asking him to be his own best man.

Usually if baked goods or a home cooked meal were involved, Gareth would show up at their door ready to partake.

“You’ll be home when I get there?”

“Yep. Cleared my whole day just for you, baby.”

“Good. Miss you.

“Miss you too. You heading to bed?” Steve poked at the brownies, making sure they were cooked.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Eddie yawned to emphasize how exhausted he was. “Did your manager tell them you love spicy foods or are you just gonna let them assume you’re a wimp?”

“Nah. It’ll be fun.”

—-------------------

When he arrives on the set of Hot Ones, Sean greets him with a smile and a handshake.

Eddie wasn’t able to come with him, but Robin had promised to record the whole thing just for them.

She watched from the side next to his manager, Nancy, and his bodyguard, Hopper.

They settled at the table, got mic’d up, makeup touched up, and Sean reminded him that if he absolutely had to tap out, they could stop recording and edit everything accordingly to make it look like he made it through the challenge.

Steve wasn’t worried.

The first three wings didn’t even have a kick. It was just a casual conversation between friends.

He talked about his work with a theater group for kids in New York City, as well as his work on an indie film that was coming out in the fall.

The fourth and fifth wings had a pinch of spice to them, but nothing to make even bat an eye.

Sean continued asking questions, Steve continued answering them.

On the seventh wing, Steve was barely distracted from the question: “What project of yours are you most looking forward to doing next?”

“I think I’ll be most excited to take some time off with my husband, working on starting the family we’ve wanted for a while. He’s been on tour for most of the last year, and we agreed it was a good time to figure out what we wanna do,” Steve said as he took another bite.

He could feel the burn of this one at least, felt the sting on his lips and tongue.

But it was very manageable, and the jalapeno flavor was almost refreshing. It tasted fresh.

“Okay, I have to ask: did you practice these beforehand?”

Steve snorted.

“No. I’m just not very sensitive to spicy foods. I usually keep a lot of hot sauces in my house. Poor Eddie’s learned how to tolerate spice because of it,” Steve said as they brought out the eighth wing.

“I’ve never had anyone so calm at this point. I’m starting to think even the hottest one won’t really bother you!”

“I guess we’ll see!”

The ninth wing was hot. He wouldn’t try to deny it.

“It does have a lovely watermelon flavor to it, very fruity and tangy on top of the spice. I like it,” Steve smiled.

He knew his face was getting a bit red from this one, and he reached for the water, but only had to take a couple of small sips before he was ready to keep going.

“Alright, for this one, we’ll ask a question for you to answer before and then we’ll have one for right after. You ready?”

“Bring it on!”

And it definitely did.

It was hot, and he could feel tears in his eyes, and sweat breaking out across his forehead.

“Finally, we have a reaction!” Sean exclaimed.

“This one’s definitely a lot more than the others,” Steve added, reaching for the milk.

He could tell Robin and Nancy were laughing, probably very much enjoying any amount of pain he managed to have when he went into this so sure that none of them would get to him.

“Final question: Would you ever consider retiring to follow Eddie on tour with your future family?”

Steve nodded once, taking another sip of the milk.

God, this one was hot.

“Uh, yep. I mean, retiring is a strong word. I would definitely take a long break. I’ve always wanted a family,” he stopped to take another sip and a bite of the celery. “I’ve wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember. And I know Eddie wants that, but he also doesn’t wanna stop making music, and the rest of his band isn’t ready to take a break like that. I know it would be easy for me, so my plan would be to take at least a few years off.”

“Doing alright over there?”

Steve laughed, fanning his face.

“I’m okay. That just went from a kick to a beatdown pretty quick.”

“Well, you’re a pro at making it look easy. You deserve an Oscar for this performance!”

It was a ridiculous sentiment, but funny, and Steve was up for an Oscar this year.

He finished the glass of milk and shook Sean’s hand, thanking him for having him.

“Eddie is already in tears watching Sean watch you in disbelief,” Robin started as soon as he joined them again.

“What was all that at the end?” Nancy asked, arms crossed, face furious.

He usually had free reign in interviews, but he knew Nancy would tell him not to mention anything even slightly related to retirement.

His career had really only just taken off a couple years earlier, and talking about a break or retiring now would immediately cut his chances of good roles in half.

“Just the truth, Nance. You know Eddie and I wanna start a family,” he said as they started walking through the backstage area to leave.

“I just didn’t know that meant taking a break. I thought you’d just take turns with stuff or hire a nanny.”

Steve knew that worked for a lot of couples, but they both were too family-focused for that. They didn’t want a nanny raising their kids.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not! I just would’ve liked a heads up.”

Robin stared between them, eyes bouncing back and forth like it was a tennis match.

“I don’t have to tell you every single detail of my life. You know all that’s relevant right now.”

Nancy sighed, but nodded, turning away and typing furiously on her phone.

His phone rang seconds later.

“Sweetheart, let me just say: it is so sexy how you handle those hot sauces,” Eddie’s teasing voice was enough to get him back into a happy mood.

“Your standards for sexy are so low,” Steve said as he walked to the corner to get as much privacy as possible.

“No, it’s just that everything you do is sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.”

“Steve!” Sean’s voice came from behind him, large smile lighting up his face. “Sorry to bother you, but would Eddie and the guys like to come on the show as our bonus episode this season?”

Eddie was screaming yes through the phone, much to their amusement.

“So…yes?” Sean asked.

“Yes!” Eddie yelled.

Sean walked away to update the producer while Steve kept talking to Eddie.

“See? Now you’ll get your show, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #request #ficlet #stranger things #rock star eddie munson #actor steve harrington #modern au

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slutforsilverfoxes · 2 years ago

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Sunrise, Sunset

[A/N: I wrote this in a rush bc there’s some stuff going on in my personal life and I just watched episode 9x10 and I needed a good cry 🥺]

*Warning you rn, sad Stevie ahead

—————

“Christ,” you grumble under your breath, slipping in a puddle and nearly falling flat out on the back porch. You try to adjust the grocery bags in your hands to see where you’re stepping, juggling your house keys between two fingers as you mutter on, “How many times have I told that man to wipe down the deck after a swim? Gonna break my damn face one-”

Your griping comes to a dead halt and the bags fall onto the deck with a series of heavy thuds. It’s not water you slipped on.

“St-Steve?” you stammer out, choking on his name. As you follow the trail into your home, now resembling more of a macabre art exhibit than a kitchen, your voice grows stronger and you yell, “Steve! Steven!” Red streaks and fingerprints are smeared across every visible surface, and the sheer volume of blood on the floor sends your heart leaping into your throat.

You can hear heavy footfalls rounding the corner, and you brace yourself to meet your demise at the hands of the same man who attacked your husband minutes ago. Then panicked blue eyes appear at the doorway, and tears pool in your own as you rush into the familiar security of Steve’s arms.

“You’re okay,” you exhale sharply, hands roaming every inch of skin that you can find. Your fingers graze over several bandages along his arms and chest, across his split lip, down the bridge of his nose, and you repeat again, “You’re okay.”

“Most of that blood’s not mine,” he assures you, tenderly brushing his thumb over your cheek and giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Is this- Is someone after your team?” you ask, taking note of his harried appearance and red-rimmed eyes as he leads you to sit on the living room couch.

He sniffs sharply and averts his gaze before answering, “Not Five-0. My team from the Morocco op.”

You take his hand and bring it to your lap, squeezing it tightly and running your thumb over his knuckles. “How many, Steve?”

He swallows thickly. “Three.”

“And…” You steel yourself for your follow up question. “And Joe?”

Giving your hand a squeeze in return, he says, “Joe’s okay.”

You take and release a deep breath, then lift his hand to your mouth and press a kiss to the back of it. “Do what you need to do,” you say softly. “Just come home to me in one piece when it’s done.”

“Angel, this might not-”

“Consider that an order, Steve,” you cut him off, lifting your resolute gaze to meet his. “You will come home to me.”

“Okay, mama,” he whispers. “Okay.”

—————

The telltale sound of a key slipping into the lock has you jolting awake in the dark living room. Sitting up on the couch, you rub the sleep from your eyes and glance at the clock to find it’s nearly three in the morning. Steve steps inside and locks the door behind him before dropping his bag to the floor. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders, and you call out to him softly.

He takes lumbering steps towards you, then sinks to his knees and rests his head on your thigh, his arms coming up to encircle your waist. “I came home to you,” he says, haunted, his voice muffled by your cotton shorts.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper, carding your hands through his hair as he tightens his grip on you, his anchor.

“I came home,” he intones again. Your heart aches at how small he sounds, and you understand in that moment what he’s really saying to you: I’m the only one who came home. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you murmur, “You can let go now, honey. Let it go.”

His large body quakes beneath your fingertips, heaving with silent sobs as a lifetime of loss and sacrifice takes its toll. Drawing in shuddering breaths, he clings to you like you’re the oxygen he’s seeking while you rock him side to side and run your hand along his back.

The sun will come up in a few hours, and with it, a new day. But for tonight, all your husband can focus on is coming home to you and the most beautiful sunset he’s ever seen.

—————

[A/N… again: Writing that last line broke me 😔 If you’ve seen this episode I hope you get the reference; seeing my baby sad breaks my heart and I was ugly crying by that point ngl]

#steve mcgarrett #angst #my poor baby 😔#I wish I could actually hold this man #he deserves so much love #sad boi hours #steve mcgarrett x you #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett x female reader #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine #hawaii five o imagine

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eyesofshinigami · 1 year ago

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Leave It All Behind

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, fluff, new beginnings

Prompt: For @acasualcrossfade "Love is having hope for the future together"

WC: 1112

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 12

Steve stands in the middle of his empty bedroom, hands on his hips, trying to untangle the knot of emotions in the pit of his stomach. He’s not sure how to feel; as much as he hates this house and its shadows on the wall, it was still home for most of his life. They made some good memories here. Late night movies with Robin, hosting Hellfire for the club, and he and Eddie’s first time right there where the bed used to be.

But, on the other hand, he can’t wait to get out of this place. Not just the house, but this town; he struggled with the idea for a long time, feeling like he was abandoning the kids, but they called him on that pretty early on. Now that the gates were closed and the Upside Down had collapsed in on itself, El promised that there was nothing else they had to worry about. No more fighting. No more saving the world.

They could just be people again.

Steve’s not entirely sure he remembers how. When he thinks of his life over the last four years, it’s mostly a blur of blood and nightmares that have left him a little changed, a little broken. He knows things and sees things that he would never wish upon another human being, and most days it feels like he would never be free of the marks it has left on him.

But. But.

The car is packed. Eddie’s van has been sold, since it would be too big to drive in the city. Their whole lives have been taped in boxes to bring with them to the apartment waiting for him and Eddie in Chicago, along with Eddie’s record store job and Steve’s waiting teaching program.

Now he just has to say goodbye.

“You okay in here, Stevie?” Eddie calls from the doorway, his footsteps light across the beige carpeting. “What’s on your mind?”

Steve sighs. “Just not sure how to feel. I hated this place, but it also…” he trails off, not sure how to put it into words. It’s complicated.

“It kind of feels like letting go of something important?” Eddie finishes for him. Of course Eddie would be able to find what Steve was trying to say. Months of living out of each other’s pocket and loving each so thoroughly tends to do that to people. “I get it. As much as I would love to see Hawkins burn to the ground in a blaze of unholy glory… I think I would actually be sad about it.”

Steve can’t help his chuckle. “Yeah. I’ll just be glad to get gone, you know? Leave this place behind once and for all.”

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve from behind, pulling his body into a gentle sway. They’re about the same height, but feeling Eddie pressed against his back like that always makes Steve feel small and loved and cared for. “Going to be a whole new world, baby boy. Just you and me and the Big City! And, you know, maybe Robin and Nancy when they can make it down.”

That idea settles something inside Steve. Robin and Nancy are heading to Boston, three days after he and Eddie hit the road. The kids will only be a four hour drive away, practically nothing in the grand scheme of things. They’ll be fine without him, he knows, and he’s glad that thought doesn’t make him want to curl up and die anymore.

“I can’t wait to do this with you,” Steve whispers into the empty room, turning around in Eddie’s arms so that he can rub their noses together. This wasn’t the life he had planned on having, but he’s so grateful that he gets to have it. He never thought he would find happiness and peace in someone like Eddie; frankly, he never thought he’d find it at all. He had spent so long convinced that he was going to be just like his dad, angry and bitter and mad at the world because he was trapped in a life he didn’t want but thought he had to live.

Not Steve. He shed that shit the moment that demogorgon came after them in the Byers house, slowly shaping into the person he is now. A person moving to Chicago to start a life with the man he loves more than life itself, who is planning on being a teacher and starting a garden on their little rooftop.

A person he can be proud of. A person he can learn to love like Eddie does.

“And I can’t wait to do this with you, baby. No one else I’d rather do this with. The words are whispered against Steve’s lips, like a secret just for the two of them, even if they both tend to wear their love on their sleeves. “Just think, in like… ten hours, we’ll be unpacked in our new place and we can break in our new bed tonight. Scare the neighbors, you know?” Eddie grins against his mouth.

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him back, even if he loves the pleasant little shiver Eddie’s words produce. Their place. Their bed. Their life together. “Come on, you menace. Let’s go say our goodbyes and get this show on the road.”

They walk down the stairs hand in hand, after Steve gives one last silent farewell to this room, this place. One day he’ll be able to put it away, fold the memory of this place up like a letter and hide it in the back of his drawer, never to think about it again. Today? Today he lets it hurt, just a little.

They give hugs and kisses and noogies to the assembled crowd that’s here to see them off. Their going away party had been the night prior, a perfect send off that had Steve crying into Eddie’s shoulder when they went to bed in Eddie’s trailer for the last time. It was perfect, all that he could ask for.

It’s not forever, but it’s definitely time. Steve’s ready.

He climbs into the driver’s seat and gets settled in, giving a few more last minute waves as Eddie climbs in on the other side. He starts the car and pulls down the driveway, trying to swallow the lump growing in his throat.

It hurts, but in a good way. Kind of like the way a healing bruise feels when you flex the skin. Painful, but bearable. Especially when Eddie takes his hand and holds it over the console, squeezing it tight as they make their way out of Hawkins and into their future.

Together.

#les writes things #steddie #steddielovemonth #established relationship #rating: g

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thefixations-ofmine · 4 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 - Dry humping

Pairing: Stucky (pre-serum) Word count: 925 Warnings: nothing more than the prompted kink - dry humping Summary: Steve & Bucky are enjoying their newly shared apartment A/N: First day of kinktober!! Taking it back to my first loves and obviously, my baby pre-serum Steve. This is a pretty tame prompt, expect a little more from the rest of the month! Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Stevie,” Bucky warns but his body isn’t defending his words. His hands are wandering up Steve’s thighs, his fingers digging under the hem of his boxers, and he’s not pushing the blonde’s head away from decorating his neck. They’d been at this for around an hour now, kissing and letting their hands wander as they listened to the baseball game on the radio and needed to let their nerves out before their night courting at the fair. At some point, Bucky had gotten up to get their clothes ready for the evening, and made them glasses of water. When did Steve end up straddling his leg? Bucky couldn’t really tell, but he’d be damned to stop the spectacle.

A low moan rumbles in Bucky’s throat and he’s struggling to keep his composure. “Stevie, we’re going to be late,” he adds. His hands push Steve’s waist past his knee, and pulls him straight back so his bulge presses into the hard bone.

“B-but, James…” Steve whines, taking a breath, but his hips are still going strong, rubbing his leaking dick into his Bucky’s thigh. Bucky looks down between them, noticing just how far they’ve allowed this to go, how big the wet patch is in Steve’s boxers, and he thinks what the heck before dipping his head again onto the back of the couch and letting Steve have his way for a bit. He looks to his left for the clock; he has fifteen minutes before they really have to start getting ready.

“You’re a brat.” Bucky pants, a hand slapping Steve’s ass.

“You’re full of shit,” Steve accentuates through another roll of his hips. They scoff a laugh, and Bucky caves even more. Bucky runs his hands up Steve’s stomach under his white tank top and he rests his hands around his ribs before lifting his hips for extra pressure. Steve bites into his neck at the sensation, pulling a happy hiss from his boyfriend.

Boyfriend… Bucky gets lost in that thought. They’d allowed themselves to use the term only recently, though they had feelings for one another since they knew what feelings actually were. But living together had definitely made it harder to steer away from the needs and pleasures of it all. They’d bought curtains soon after Steve had moved in, and the fact that the neighbours knew about Steve’s sad situation, they never doubted what was happening behind locked doors. For the time being, Bucky enjoys having to simply worry about which surface hasn’t been christened and how many times he can get Steve to whimper his name;

“Bucky, please!” Yeah, just like that. He grips at Steve’s hips and turns him just slightly so their bulges can rub against each other - Bucky’s still in his work pants, but it’s sizzling his blood nonetheless. Steve’s hands drop to the cushion next to Bucky’s hip, bringing him practically on all fours, one knee on the other end of the couch and a foot steady on the ground. Steve can easily fuck himself into Bucky now, and boy is he going at it. For being half his size, Bucky is always left speechless at the prowess Steve can perform. But the time is ticking and the need is growing and there’s only so much his feather weight can put into the grinding. Bucky grabs the back of Steve’s neck and swishes his leg off the floor to flip him onto his back on the couch.

“Like that?” But Bucky knows Steve’s already trembling under him. He gives them an extended grind to prove a point.

“Y-Yes! Bu-” the end of Bucky’s name comes out in a screech as his zipper runs up Steve’s length. His hands are gripping at the open flaps of Bucky’s unbuttoned shirt and he’s pulling him into a searing kiss; tongues and teeth and spit. The heated passion waves up Bucky’s spine and he starts thrusting into his favourite man like the cops are walking up the stairs to let them know their last meal is up. It’s a laborious process not to pull them out of their confines to frot frantically like they did religiously on Sunday mornings, but the overstimulation of the material is helping move the pleasure along.

“Hard-harder,” Steve whines, eyes watery. His hands have moved to the back of Bucky’s shirt, grip still deadly. He’s maybe ten thrusts from cumming, Bucky knows.

“Like.” One. “That.” Two. “Baby?” Three. Bucky brings Steve’s legs around his body and moans when the pointy heels dig into his lower back. Four. Five.

“Yea-es.” Six. “Fuh-.” Seven. “-uck. James!” Eight. And before Bucky can fully pull back to crank another thrust, Steve starts writhing beneath him and his breaths are staggered until he goes rigid and Bucky can see his orgasm creep onto his chest in a dark red shade. He holds on for another second to admire the spectacle, and he uses the last two thrust he had calculated to get himself there.

Nine. Ten. He dips his head down to suck a hickey onto Steve’s pec as he empties himself in his pants, body heavy and hot with erotism and love. It’s a minute of heavy breathing and sweet hands running over each other’s bodies again as they come down from the unexpected moment they just shared. Then Bucky feels Steve bounce under him.

“Were you counting your movements?” Steve whispers with a hint of mockery. Bucky must have counted those last two out loud. He hides further into Steve’s neck, kissing him there as a sweet apology.

Want to be tagged for kinktober? Drop an ask to let me know! 🎇

#ronniekinktober2024 #kinktober 2024 #stucky #steve x bucky fic #kink fic #steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fic #ronnie writes

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gretavanfunk · 5 months ago

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Fighting Fire (Series)

Chapter Thirteen

Word Count: 7,380

Summary: Stevie and Sam never seemed to be what people refer to as "two peas in a pod" growing up. He got under her skin more times than she could count and Sam was desperate to be on a level playing field as his older brother and Stevie's best friend, Jake. One summer, Sam is forced to face his demons and in turn, Stevie is too.

Warnings: sexual content 18+, minors DNI, arguing, physical violence, themes of grief, themes of anxiety/depression/heartbreak

This story is written and edited by me and it is my baby so I hope some people out there can enjoy it as much as I enjoy creating it! If there are typos, bear with me lol also sorry for not updating in over a month :/ We are getting close to the end, you guys!

Chapter Thirteen Playlist for the vibes!

Stevie spent the first few days at home laying around and wallowing in her hurt. Her emotions had been flashing from anger to sadness rapidly and she really didn't know how to comprehend what had gone wrong.

When she ended things with Ryan, it didn't take her very long to stop having a physical reaction to the breakup. Especially because during that time, all she could do was see red. This was different. While her anger hung over her like a dark cloud, she was also overwhelmed with sadness. She had been so lost in her daydream-like state with Sam and suddenly he took all of that away from her.

It was troubling for Stevie to even try and reflect on it. Everything with Sam had been so wonderful and so horrible all at once. Stevie felt winded like she couldn't keep up.

During the last week, she filled a lot of her free time with hours of phone calls between Josh and Jake.

"Stevie," Josh sighed, "Are you sure I don't need to come out there?"

"I'm sure," Stevie chuckled sadly, "I promise I'm leaving the house today. I need to go to work and try and get my shifts back."

"Have you had any contact with Sam?"

"No," Stevie said sharply, "I told him to go home. I don't know if he did and I'm not wasting any time caring about whatever he's doing."

"Fair," Josh bit his lip, "I won't bother you about him anymore. But, if you change your mind, I can be there relatively quickly."

"Thank you, Josh," Stevie responded, "I love you."

"Love you too."

The call ended and Stevie laid back on her pillows and took a deep breath, studying the popcorn texture on her ceiling. She had taken a shower and was fully dressed, ready to face the outside world again but she was stalling.

Stevie had never been this angry at Sam before and that was saying something given the events of their relationship of over twenty years. This was an anger she was not very familiar with. Her chest was consistently tight, her skin ran hot, and she was so full of rage that within a matter of seconds, tears could fall from her eyes anytime.

Then the sadness would creep up to the surface. It was more debilitating than anything else. After she got back to her house that first night, Stevie felt like a hollow shell of herself. The way that she had fallen for Sam was so reckless and everything that she felt for him manifested rapidly. Maybe it was always meant to be short-lived.

When she first crossed the line with Sam, she had no time to fully enjoy it. She was immediately riddled with anxiety surrounding the secrets she was keeping from Jake. It wasn't until after all of it was over, until she left the lake house behind, that she began to think about it all.

She thought about everything Sam confessed to her: being jealous of Jake, having feelings for her, and his close relationship with her dad. It made her reflect on what Sam's behavior was like around her before any of this happened.

Stevie thought about when he came over here with food for her and encouraged her to pack. She thought about the muffins and the way her stomach twisted into knots when he said they were his favorite. She thought about the day on the lake when they held each other in the water after he pushed her out of her canoe. It scared her how electrified she felt by the small physical interaction.

When she had finally been out in the open with him after fighting with Jake, she always regretted how previously she would run from that feeling.

Soon enough, Stevie had been going down a rabbit hole in her reflection. She remembered the photo of them in her dad's photo album when they were at that soccer game. There was more context to that photo than Stevie realized while talking about it with Sam.

The background story to that photograph, the events that took place before the game, and how they ended up there in the first place came flooding back to her. That particular soccer game was a night game. It was on a Saturday which wasn't typical for night games, but if Stevie remembered correctly, it was a makeup for a game that had been postponed. Stevie never missed any of Jake's soccer games, even before they were in high school.

That Saturday she had been hanging out at the Kiszka house, working on filming something with Josh. It was just her and the twins that were filming that morning. Sam was preparing for his very first date, something the three of them were teasing him endlessly about.

She laughed as the memory came back clearer for her. Sam had braces then. His hair was an awkward length, trying to catch up with Jake in that department. He had been stressing about it all morning, spending a good chunk of time just deciding what to wear.

They were going to an art exhibit that his date apparently wanted to see and having lunch afterward. Sam was even more stressed over the fact that his dad had to drive them. At the time, it was classic teasing material for her and the twins. Ronnie was a lot more gracious about it, helping Sam get ready and psyching him up.

However, when Sam returned from his date, Stevie was the only one who was in the living room when he walked in. Jake had gone to a team dinner; Josh was in his room editing and Ronnie was on a date of her own. Stevie planned to chill out with Josh until they both headed over to the high school stadium, but things slightly changed after Sam came back, looking completely horrified.

"Jeez," Stevie scoffed when she saw him, red liquid splattered on his t-shirt, "What happened to you?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Sam huffed and headed towards his room. Kelly looked at Stevie with wide eyes and shook his head.

She sighed, feeling a little sorry for him. She decided to bother him about it anyway, putting her best-friend-of-the-older-brother hat on. She knocked on his door and it swung open rapidly. His eyes were wide, probably expecting one of his parents but his expression dropped when he saw her.

"What?" Sam groaned, "I already said I didn't want to talk about it!"

Stevie rolled her eyes and pushed past him, only needing to shove him lightly for him to move. She plopped on his bed and gave him a knowing look, "What happened, Sam?"

"Like you even care," Sam frowned, sitting beside her.

"I do care," Stevie assured him, "We make fun of you because that's what we do, Sammy. You're just the youngest so it's the worst for you."

Sam narrowed his eyes at her, but slumped his shoulders and sighed, "Fine! The date was horrible. She hated me! I completely screwed all of it up!"

"You're twelve, Sam," Stevie laughed, "It couldn't have been that bad!"

"It was!" Sam sighed, "I didn't even want to go on this stupid date anyway!"

"So, why'd you ask her out, you weirdo?"

Sam shrugged, "I was being teased at school for never kissing a girl before."

"Oh," Stevie sang, "I see. So, you tried to kiss her then?"

"I guess?" Sam questioned, "I thought it was a good time to try, but she freaked out! Now there's Powerade all over my shirt and I made a fool of myself."

Stevie laughed harder than Sam would've liked her to, but she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "It's okay, Sam. Kissing is gross anyway!"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Well, I wouldn't know! I still haven't done it!"

"You don't have to be like all of the guys who tease you," Stevie said, "I bet most of them just lie about it anyway and are all in the same boat you are!"

Sam chuckled and shook his head, "Well, not all of them. Some of them kiss girls in the halls."

"Ugh," Stevie made a face, "Gross!"

"Is kissing really that gross?" Sam asked and Stevie shrugged, "I've only been kissed once, and it was weird. Besides, girls want it to be romantic, Sammy. They don't want it to be pressured and forced."

"So, what should I do?"

"First of all, you shouldn't just take a girl out because your friends are teasing you," Stevie laughed, "You should ask a girl out because you really like her and want to hang out with her. Did you even like this girl?"

Sam shook his head, "No, she just sits next to me in English."

"God, Sam," Stevie laughed even more, "You have got to get some better dating advice."

He laughed too but sighed again, falling back onto his bed, "Everyone is gonna ask me about it on Monday."

Stevie rolled her eyes and hit her hand on the bed beside him, "So what if you didn't kiss her? You went out for the wrong reasons anyway! It's not a race, Sam! Plus, when it happens, it'll be way better than it would've been today."

Sam didn't say anything, he just looked gloomily up at his ceiling and Stevie smiled down at him, "Come to the soccer game with me and Josh tonight! It'll be fun!"

"No way," Sam groaned, "I can't show my face in public!"

"Oh my god," Stevie argued, "Sit up!"

He was frightened by her demand, so he did as she said and she turned, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

"Now, turn and look at me," Stevie instructed, and Sam followed suit, sitting across from her, giving her a worried expression.

"When you kiss a girl," Stevie began, "You have to make sure that she's into it. Getting to know her better helps a lot in this sense."

"Okay," Sam said, hesitantly.

"That's kind of what dates are for anyway," Stevie explained, "You'll have to pay attention to body language too. Girls are just as nervous as guys are, we're just a lot better about hiding it."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Stevie."

"I know. So, pay attention!" Stevie smiled, "She'll drop a few hints when she wants you to make a move; bat her eyelashes at you, lean in closer, touch your arm or something."

Stevie acted out what she was saying, giving Sam a few visual tips on what to look for.

"She'll be nervous too and won't ever bring it up or ask you to," Stevie explained, "But, she might even look at your lips for a weird amount of time and that's usually the green light."

Sam was looking at her closely, scared to even breathe.

"You don't want to just plant it on her though," Stevie shook her head, "You want to match what she's doing too. Lean in closer a little bit, maybe reach out and touch her hair, or the classic arm over her shoulder move. Then you just close your eyes and go for it! Closed and puckered lips to start though!"

"Should I be taking notes?" Sam asked and Stevie laughed, "You'll remember! Just don't come at her with your mouth open and immediately try to tongue her down. That's just sloppy and weird!"

"Is that what happened to you?" Sam asked and she shrugged, "Pretty much! It was disgusting and not at all what I had pictured."

Sam nodded slowly, still looking confused and Stevie leaned back and away from him, grabbing his shoulders, "Just don't think about it so much! It's not a big deal, Sam. With time, you'll be fine!"

Sam nodded, "Okay. Should I just lie then? I'm sure she's already told her friends about it."

Stevie shrugged, "Who cares! Just come to the soccer game and forget about it!"

Sam shook his head, "I can't go to the game! Derek's older brother is on Jake's team! He'll probably be there and make me look pathetic!"

"You're not about to let some lame wanna-be ruin your weekend, Sam!" Stevie widened her eyes at him, "None of you are even going to remember this next week!"

"I really don't want to go to the game and be humiliated, Stevie."

Sam's eyes lit up for a brief second and he smiled, "What if I kiss you? Just to get it over with."

"Me?" Stevie laughed and shook her head, "That's not the most romantic thing in the world, Sam."

"Yeah, but you're in high school! Nobody could clown me if I kissed a girl in high school," Sam begged, "Please?"

She looked at him with sympathetic eyes and bit her lip, "Are you sure you want your first kiss to be completely meaningless?"

"Well, it wouldn't be with a girl I don't even know if it's with you," Sam said, "Just a practice."

Stevie crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, "Okay, fine! Only to get you to stop sulking in your room! And Jake and Josh can never know about this, got it?"

Sam sat up straighter and nodded, "Oh my god, thank you! I promise!"

"If you tell them, I will deny it until I die, Sam."

Sam nodded and scooted himself closer to her until their knees were touching. Stevie remembered feeling amused by him thinking very hard about the tips she gave him. His shaky hand reached for her hair, and she smiled, grabbing the back of his hand and leading it to hold her cheek. They both leaned closer to each other, slowly and Stevie was the one who closed the gap, giving him the smallest, quickest peck on the lips that ever existed.

Sam's eyes had widened triple their normal size and his cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of pink when she pulled away from him and clapped her hands together, "There! Now you can tell Derek that you kissed a high school girl."

Stevie got up off of his bed and headed to the door, stopping in his doorway and turning back to look at him with a small smile, "Now get changed! You're going to the soccer game whether you want to or not."

When she left him there, Sam was still sitting cross-legged on his bed, in shock, holding his fingers up to his lips. Stevie laughed at the memory but realized she was also crying at this point. She sat up in her bed and wiped her eyes. Sam and Stevie had successfully kept that a secret from Josh and Jake this entire time and honestly, she forgot it even happened.

That's why that picture of them in the photo album is so rare. It was one special occasion where Stevie was simply trying to make him feel better. Their history was a lot deeper and more complicated than Stevie could ever admit. Sure, it may have been one-sided for most of their friendship, but she knew what Josh told her a few weeks ago was true. She had a soft spot for him. But now, none of that even mattered.

Stevie thought about "Pearly Queen", and the sight of the destruction that Sam had created. That boat was irreplaceable, and she wasn't sure if she could forgive him for being so careless with something that meant so much to her father. Her dad would've been devastated, but she knew he would be quick to forgive Sam.

It was different for Stevie though. The emotion she felt was so heavy and all she really wanted was to hide in her bed covers and never come out again. However, she knew she needed to do something to keep busy. She got up and went downstairs, putting her shoes on and getting into her car before she could convince herself not to.

Things for Sam were only slightly different compared to Stevie after their fight. He had been riddled with guilt and although Stevie wanted him to leave, he couldn't. He began to panic as soon as he watched her get into her car and leave. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't even eat. He had to at least try to fix what he had ruined.

His brothers kept calling him and he kept ignoring them, directing more of his attention to finding someone who could help him repair the boat. Thankfully, he found someone locally who would be able to do it. It cost more than a new boat, but he knew he couldn't replace the Pearly Queen. Besides, he wasn't sure if Stevie would ever forgive him, but he had to do something. So, he paid extra for the guy to get it done as soon as possible and while the boat was getting work done, Sam was in the house, finishing what Stevie and he hadn't gotten to.

She had talked endlessly with him about her plans for making the lake house her own. She didn't want everything her dad had here to be erased, but if it was going to stay her place, she wanted to make it her own. Stevie still wasn't sure if she wanted to sell it or not, but if she was going to sell it to Sam, she thought it would be good to plan the decor changes with him so he wouldn't change it too much if she went in that direction.

He remembered she wanted the music memorabilia to stay, but her dad's old study was her dream study to work on her writing. She wanted the other bedrooms to be cute and comfortable for when any of them would be staying there. She wanted the decor to be light and comforting, opting for vintage rather than modern.

"The house already has such beautiful fixtures," Stevie said one afternoon when they were cleaning after the twins visited, "but I want more silly little wall hangings and throw pillows and rugs. Very 70's chic, ya know?"

"So, burnt oranges and mustard yellows?" Sam laughed.

"I mean not necessarily. The kitchen has that funky avocado color," Stevie pointed to Sam with a smirk, "I'd like it to be more colorful, honestly."

He nodded and smiled, "Of course, that's much more you."

Sam fluffed a blue and orange bohemian-style throw pillow on the couch and sighed as he thought back to the memory. This was a pillow he picked out and he was a little nervous about whether she'd like it or not. But he wouldn't know until he fixed things.

Sam didn't let himself feel his heartbreak unless he took breaks from working, so he barely did. He moved her dad's music memorabilia to the den and worked on painting the study, making it Stevie's writing space. He got a desk, lined the walls with bookshelves and storage space, and even put the bean bag chair in there for a nice spot to read.

The boat mechanic, Mike was his name, had finished the boat yesterday and Sam was impressed at how it almost looked like the accident never even happened. Sam worked endlessly on getting the lake house put together the way that Stevie wanted it. He wasn't sure if she'd come back to do this herself, but if he knew her the way he thought he did, he wasn't betting on it.

However, this morning he heard tires on the gravel outside and he kicked himself for getting excited that it might be her. When he looked out the kitchen window, he was less than thrilled to find Josh's Jeep there. The twins got out of the car and Sam rounded the corner, throwing the front door open.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Sam asked and Jake glared at him, "This is what happens when you don't answer our calls, Sam."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Josh asked, "Stevie told you to go home."

"I know," Sam sighed, "But I can't. I had to do something other than hating myself."

Josh crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at his little brother, "And what exactly have you been doing?"

Sam looked out to the dock and gestured his head to it, "Fixing the boat."

The twins both looked over at the boat and Josh nodded, "Looks completely normal."

"What happened, Sam?" Jake asked, "What did you do?"

Sam took in a sharp breath and sat on the steps of the house abruptly, "I think it's more helpful to ask what I didn't do."

Tears welled in his eyes and Josh frowned, going and sitting beside him, "Sam, Stevie told me what happened. I think you just need to give her some space."

"I fucked it all up," Sam cried, "Just like I knew I would."

"I don't get it," Josh said, "Things were going in the right direction, Sam. Why'd you run away?"

"I was angry," Sam admitted, "And instead of just talking to her about it, I got drunk."

"Why were you mad?"

"Stevie told Ronnie about the lake house plan," Jake chimed in, "he took it out of context."

"Well, I don't know if it was completely out of context," Sam looked at Jake, "You guys still conspired against me."

"None of this was against you, Sam," Josh sighed, "When are you going to understand that? Stevie just wanted to help you."

"And we know you," Jake crossed his arms too, "We knew you wouldn't come down here if it felt like we were making you."

"Jake's right," Josh said, "It was a dire miscommunication and to tell you the truth, you wanted to help Stevie too."

Sam looked at Josh and thought about that day Stevie brought him the pizza. He thought about the night at Electrick and cringed at how much he acted like a douche, trying to kiss her. But then he focused on everything Stevie did for him. She attacked a stranger trying to hit him, she held his hair back while he repeatedly got sick, and she defended him when he didn't think anyone else would.

Sam smiled softly, realizing that she loved him for a lot longer than they were aware of.

"I don't know why," Jake sighed, "But you and Stevie have always been closer than any of us realized."

Sam held his head in his hands and cried and Josh rubbed his back, "Just give her some time, Sam. She'll come around."

Jake sighed dramatically and walked over to them, sitting on the other side of Sam, grabbing his shoulder, "You can't let her get away. Not again. Not ever."

Sam sniffled, wiping his face and looking questioningly at Jake, "What?"

"I'm serious," Jake said, "You have to make this right. You have to fix things with her. Neither of you will ever get over it otherwise."

"What am I supposed to do?" Sam asked, running his hands through his hair.

"Well, first things first," Josh chuckled, "You have to take a shower. Good lord, Sam, you smell awful."

Jake laughed and reached behind Sam to hit Josh on the back of the head, "Yeah, take a shower. But then, you need to talk to her, man. Stevie's in love with you. All she wants is to be with you. So, go and talk to her about it."

"She doesn't want to talk to me," Sam shook his head, "She never wants to see me again."

"Not true," Josh laughed, "She might have said that but that's so not true. She's angry, rightfully so. But you've gotta do more than fix her dad's boat to make this right, Sam."

Sam looked at Josh and nodded, "Okay."

"Don't worry about us," Jake said, "We'll be out of your hair."

"You just came out here to talk to me?" Sam laughed and Josh punched him lightly, "This could have easily been a phone call, Sam. But we're going home and spending time with Mom and Dad."

"Next time we call you," Jake muttered, "pick up your fucking phone."

Jake shoved him and the three of them laughed together. Sam stood up after pulling both his brothers into a hug and headed inside to shower.

Stevie was nervously tapping her fingers against the service counter at the restaurant, "What do you mean you don't have any shifts? There are always shifts!"

"We're fully staffed this summer, Stevie," her boss sighed, "I'd love to give you those shifts back but we hired college kids to cover for you on your time out."

Stevie sighed deeply and nodded, "No, I understand. Sorry, I'm just stressed out."

"If you want," her boss continued, "You could pick up any shifts that are posted until you come back in August."

Stevie nodded, "Okay, yeah. Thank you."

Stevie left the restaurant and hit her hands against her steering wheel when she was in the privacy of her car. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and fished it out, grunting in frustration. When she read the name on her screen attached to a new text message, her stress only skyrocketed. It was Ryan.

"Hey, I have some of your stuff I'd like to return to you. Can we meet?"

Stevie tightened her jaw and let out a deep groan before she unlocked her phone and typed back.

"Drop it off at my house. 8 o'clock."

She threw her phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking lot, speeding on her way home. The last thing she needed right now was to see Ryan, of all people. But she supposed it was as good a time as any. Might as well add salt to her wounds, right?

When she got back to the house, Stevie couldn't help but let her emotions take over. She sat on the floor of the entryway and let her bag fall off of her shoulder, crying hard. She cracked under the weight of her stress. While she and Sam were never labeled or exclusive, she had wished that he was the ex that she would be seeing tonight. It's not that she couldn't handle seeing Ryan, she just didn't think the stuff that had been missing for months was really important enough for him to return to her. Her heart was shattered, and Ryan did not need to be part of this chapter of her life for any reason at all.

She wanted to talk to Sam. She didn't have words to say to him just yet, but she wanted more than anything for this crippling pain to leave. Had she overreacted? Should she have stayed and tried to work through it with him? She wiped her eyes, grunting loudly with frustration. Of course, she didn't overreact. She reacted just the way anyone would. She knew deep down that she did need space from him. But the longer she waited in the silence and utter loneliness of her house, it became increasingly more difficult to rationalize the space she had wedged between them.

Stevie sniffled, wiping her face with the bottom of her shirt and she stood up slowly, setting her bag on the ground and tossing her keys on the entryway table. She walked into her living room and kneeled in front of her record player, pulling out her copy of Rumors. She put it on and laughed at the irony of the lyrics as "Second Hand News" played softly through her living room.

Stevie then went to her kitchen and poured herself a glass of red wine, taking a deep breath before the liquid met her lips, and sipping it lightly. She set the glass down and decided the best thing to do besides cry was to dance around and try to forget about Sam for the time being. She still had a few hours before Ryan was expected to show up at her house so she danced over to her fridge, swaying her lips to the music as she studied what she could possibly make for dinner.

There wasn't much in the fridge, considering she had been gone for a while and the vegetables she left behind looked so sad, wilted in the crisper drawer. She tossed them in the trash and decided to stick to a tried-and-true sadness staple, paying very little mind to the fact that it was one of the only things available to eat in her pantry.

She made a large pot of instant ramen and sang along to Fleetwood Mac between bites. It paired horribly with her merlot, but she didn't have enough energy to care. She continued to dance and sing while she ate her dinner. She continued to dance and sing when she washed the dishes. And she continued to drink her wine. When she reached up to grab the merlot from the top of the fridge where she kept it, she saw a sticky note hung up on the side of her fridge.

"Sammy was here! :)"

Stevie coughed out of surprise, reaching out to touch the note and she felt her lip quiver, tears immediately welling in her eyes. This was getting ridiculous. She couldn't even keep it together just seeing some stupid note he left her. Many thoughts raced in her mind at that moment. She wanted to rip it down, crumble it, and throw it out. But she didn't. She just pressed her hand against it and left it alone, deciding not to reach for the wine anymore.

The doorbell rang before she could have another crying meltdown, and she jumped at the sound. She glanced at the clock and cursed to herself when she saw that it was already a quarter past eight. Stevie wiped her eyes and walked to the door, taking a deep breath before she opened it to Ryan standing before her.

He had never been to her current house before, as this was the place she got when she moved out of the apartment they shared. It was such a shell shock to see him standing in front of her, clutching a box close to his torso. Stevie slipped out of the house and stood on the doorstep with him, shutting the front door behind her and wrapping her arms around herself.

"Ryan," she said, "You're late."

"I got lost," Ryan said, "It's good to see you."

"Is it?" Stevie asked, rolling her eyes, "Just get this over with."

"Seriously, it is," Ryan said, "Are you okay? You look like you've been crying."

"I'm fine."

"Stevie, come on," Ryan frowned, "You can't seriously hate me forever, can you?"

Stevie laughed, "Actually I can, and I intend to."

Ryan scoffed and jutted the box to her, "Here."

Stevie took the box from him and just as she opened her mouth to tell Ryan to go, she heard a car door slam. She looked out past Ryan and saw the Jeep parked on the street. Sam was storming up to the porch and Stevie could tell he was mad, just by the way his hands were balled into fists by his sides and his jaw was clenched.

Part of her was relieved to see him, but the other part was terrified. He had no idea that Ryan would be here and given what Stevie had shared about Ryan, Sam had every intention to do something irrational right now. But he still was here at her house, with intentions that did not involve Ryan in the slightest. "Sam, please," Stevie started, but before she could say anything else, Ryan turned around and Sam reached him quickly, grabbing him by the shirt and punching him square in the nose.

"Sam!" Stevie shouted, dropping her box and pulling Ryan out of Sam's grasp, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What the hell is this, Stevie?" Sam spat, "You're already crawling back to this piece of shit?"

Stevie scoffed and shook her head as Ryan was groaning in pain and holding his nose with his hands, "He just came by to give me some stuff that he still had, Sam. Jesus fucking Christ!"

Ryan hissed in pain, turning to Stevie, "I should get going."

"I'm sorry," Stevie sighed, "But you kind of deserve it, prick."

Sam stepped out of Ryan's way as he headed out towards his car and Sam bit his lip, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stood before Stevie, who had shifted her weight to one of her hips and wrapped her arms around herself again.

She tried her best to keep a straight face, not wanting to laugh at the fact that Sam just decked her ex-boyfriend in the nose, reminding herself that even though she was glad she was looking at him again, she was still angry with him.

"What are you doing here, Sam?" she sighed, "I thought I made things pretty clear."

"Okay," Sam frowned, "But I didn't."

"What are you talking about? Why are you driving Josh's car?" Stevie questioned, scoffing at the thought and Sam shook his head, reaching a hand out to her. She dodged his touch, and he took a step back, inhaling deeply.

"Stevie, I know I messed up," Sam said, and she laughed, "Messed up? That's one way to put it."

"I know I royally fucked up and destroyed your dad's boat and broke your heart, Stevie," Sam continued, "But we can't leave it the way we left it."

"We can," Stevie nodded, "And we should."

"No," Sam said sharply, "We shouldn't. We can't. I can't."

"Sam, I can't trust you," Stevie sighed, "I can't just pretend that you didn't do something that is borderline unforgivable."

"I panicked, Steve," Sam whined, and Stevie met his eyes as she heard the break in his voice, "I should have talked to you instead of just taking off and I'm so sorry."

"What did you expect? That I was just going to forgive you, and everything would be okay?" Stevie laughed lightly, "I am pissed as hell, Sam. Do you think I wanted to leave? Of course, I didn't want to leave but my dad's boat is something I can't get back, Sam. What am I supposed to think when you can't have a mature conversation with me before you go off the deep end?"

"You can have a mature conversation with me," Sam counter-argued and Stevie shook her head, "No I can't! You always jump to conclusions! Like you literally just did by assaulting someone!"

"That's not fair, Stevie," Sam shook his head, "I reacted because of what he put you through."

"Yes, and that's the thing," Stevie groaned, "You always react! You never think before you do! You seriously thought I'd go back to Ryan less than two weeks after I was with you? You don't know me at all, Sam!"

"I do know you," Sam grits his teeth, "I know you better than I know anyone."

She rolled her eyes and sighed but before she could rebuttal, Sam continued, "I know that you probably tried to go back to work to not think about it. I know you'd rather find anything to do to take your mind off of your hurt, Stevie. I know that you've been thinking about me just as much as I've been thinking about you."

Stevie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to find an argument but sighing because he was right.

"I know that you've always put me above yourself, even though I've never deserved it," Sam said, "Even when you tried not to. You've always loved me, without even realizing it, you have always loved me. And I've always loved you. That's not something that will change."

"This will never work, Sam," Stevie shook her head, tears pricking her eyes, "I knew it would never work."

"It won't if you give up," Sam's voice was quiet then. He stepped closer to her and she looked away from him, "I can't keep being the only thing that keeps you grounded, Sam. It's too much pressure."

"I know," Sam sighed, grabbing her arm, "You're not."

"I am," Stevie cried, "Whether you have a good or bad day is completely dependent on me. You can't only want to get better for me, you have to do it for yourself."

"I do want to get better for me," Sam argued, "I want to go back on tour. I want to get that passion back. But I want you back just as much."

"Sam," Stevie sniffled, "It's way too complicated for me. It shouldn't be this hard."

"It's not hard!" Sam exclaimed, "I'm the one making it hard, Stevie! But I can't let it go. I won't let you go."

Stevie's tears fell faster, and she shook her head, "You have to let go, Sam. Don't make this harder than it already is."

"Stevie, I'm not walking away," Sam pulled her closer to him and she felt so defeated that she didn't even try to stop him, "I know you can't walk away either."

Stevie finally met his eyes and a shaky breath left her lips. Sam took her face in his hands and moved in fast to kiss her softly. Stevie could sense the nerves radiating from Sam, not entirely sure if he should be kissing her. However, it was exactly what Stevie wanted him to do even if she had been telling him the exact opposite.

Sam went to pull away, trying to gauge her reaction. Stevie stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back in and kissing him harder. Sam hummed against her and held onto her hips. He kicked the box to the side and pressed Stevie up against the door. She whimpered into his mouth and Sam moved his lips to the crook of her neck as one of Stevie's hands flew behind them, trying to get the front door open.

Sam chuckled and reached past her to open the door for her, pushing her inside. Stevie held onto his shirt, desperately needing them to have more contact. Sam smiled and kicked the door closed behind them. His hands found their way to the back of her thighs, lifting her up and guiding her to wrap her legs around his torso.

Maybe it was the anger building up for over a week, or the intense longing, but Stevie was consumed by the moment when their lips met again. She didn't think about their fight, she didn't think about Ryan, she didn't think about anything other than the feeling of their skin touching, their lips moving against each other roughly, the way his hair was twisted in her fingers.

Sam stumbled through the house, tossing Stevie down on her sofa and she yelped, smiling up at him. Stevie knew they still had plenty of things to figure out, but she didn't want to think about anything other than how badly she wanted him.

Her record had stopped playing and her empty glass was still on the table so there wasn't any other sound in the room. Sam crawled over her and he didn't waste any time nuzzling his hands underneath her t-shirt. Stevie worked just as fast, not letting herself hesitate and change her mind about what she was doing. Within seconds, they were both topless and making out again.

Stevie was very much taking her frustration out on Sam, fighting him with her mouth. They were both just as desperate and eager as they were the first time they had sex, which helped Stevie escape the current reality they were living in. They were racing each other to get one another out of their clothes and thankfully, Sam was wearing athletic shorts and Stevie was wearing jeans, so in this race, she was winning.

Even as Sam was tugging her jeans off of her, Stevie couldn't keep her hands off of him, licking her palm and stroking his dick slowly. Sam hissed at the feeling and shook his head as he tossed her jeans on the floor.

"You're such trouble," Sam smirked and parted her legs with his hands, bringing her ankles up to his shoulders.

Stevie gasped in surprise, "Oh fuck."

Sam bit his lip and stopped wasting time, lifting her hips with his hands and settling on his knees. He lined himself up with her and dragged the tip of his dick through her folds, teasing her clit a few times making her sigh in pleasure. He twitched a little at the way Stevie was watching what he was doing, the way she was admiring the sight and the way her lip was caught between her teeth, anticipating him.

Sam's free hand reached up to Stevie's chest, grabbing a handful of her breasts before driving himself into her. Stevie's eyes fluttered shut, uncontrollably letting herself be louder with him than she had been before. He hugged her legs against his chest and moved his hand from her chest to her neck, squeezing around it a little tighter than he ever had.

They both were buzzing with anticipation, feeling the effects of their time apart. Compared to any other times they had been intimate with each other, Sam was hardly as careful, fucking himself into her much harder and quicker than before. Stevie didn't care much about this as her mind was completely clouded by how euphoric it felt and how much she wanted it to continue.

It was surprisingly hot how little he seemed to care about her finishing before him, chasing his own peak at a rapid pace. Stevie just needed the contact, already feeling herself climb to her climax as she listened to Sam groan with each thrust. She reached out to him, holding his legs and digging her fingers into him.

Usually, Stevie never waivered from talking him through sex and sporting a smug tone, but she was so overwhelmed by him that she could only moan pathetically in response to what he was doing. She was gawking at Sam who was covered in a light sheen of sweat due to his efforts. She hadn't seen him so lustful before and the view made her stomach tie in knots.

"Holy shit, Sam," Stevie sighed, "Keep going."

"Fuck," Sam grunted, "I missed you, baby."

"Use me like you need me, honey," Stevie spoke softly and Sam's grip on her legs tightened, thrusting into her faster.

He bit his lip, groaning deeply, and after a moment of this new pace, he pulled himself away from her, letting his grip on her go and standing up, pumping himself in his hand. He walked over to the edge of the sofa where her face was.

"Open your mouth," Sam instructed, and she smiled, following suit.

A hot stream of Sam's come shot into her mouth and she sucked on his tip playfully, licking him clean and swallowing with a smile. Sam's mouth was parted and his eyes were hooded as she watched her in awe, hissing lightly as she pulled her mouth away from him.

"God," Sam smiled, "You're the most amazing woman I've ever known."

Stevie laughed and sat up, grabbing his shorts and throwing them at him, "Get dressed!"

Sam rolled his eyes, catching his shorts and Stevie stood up too, working on putting her own clothes on. The gloomy and serious feelings of their harsh reality came back to her, but she was shoving it down and still holding onto the joy she felt being in his presence.

"If we're going to do this, Sam," Stevie finally broke their silence as she pulled her shirt on, "Things are going to have to change."

"But we're doing this?" Sam asked with eager eyes and Stevie lifted her head to look at him, "If things change."

He smiled and nodded, "They will, I'll make sure of it." "I'm serious," Stevie sighed, shimmying her way back into her jeans, "I love you but I can't fix you."

"I know, Stevie," Sam tugged his shirt on, "I know I need to make changes, and anything is worth keeping you."

"What changes exactly?" Stevie questioned, raising a brow and sporting a small smile.

Sam pursed his lips together and hummed, "Well, I need to work on communicating with you and being honest about my feelings."

Stevie buttoned her jeans together and nodded, "Go on."

"I also think it's important that I stop drinking," Sam admitted with a shrug and Stevie looked at him hesitantly, "Like quit drinking completely?"

He nodded without another word and Stevie nodded too, "Well, if you seriously want to do that, I'll do it with you."

Sam gave her a knowing look, "You know you don't have to do that."

"I know," Stevie smiled, "But we could do it together."

Sam smiled and came closer to her, taking her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers, "I'll do anything to be with you."

"I think those things are a good start," Stevie said, leaning into him.

"I love you," Sam whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"I love you too," Stevie looked up at him with a smile.

"Does this make us official?"

She bit her lip and smirked, "I mean, I only want to be with you, Sam."

Sam tilted her chin farther up with his hand and sealed their deal with another kiss.

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@fleetingjake

#greta van fleet #gvf #gvf fic #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka fic #greta van fleet fan fiction

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