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sidekick-hero · 2 months

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(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, secret relationship, part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note | @steddielovemonth prompt love is staying in bed for five extra minutes because you can't tear yourself away from them just yet by @starryeyedjanai | art by Kei | story in the same verse by Lex | AO3)

Steve came to slowly, like swimming through molasses, his mind caught somewhere between dreaming and being awake. In his dream, he had been lying in the sun, his head cushioned in Eddie's lap, Eddie's fingers running through his hair, humming a soft melody Steve had never heard before.

Slowly, the melody changes to the sound of soft snoring, and the soft thing under his head isn't Eddie's lap, it's his chest, gently rising and falling with each snore. Steve presses his smile into the warm skin beneath him at the thought of Eddie's face when he tells him he snores.

Some things are worth waiting for, though, and he knows the perfect moment to reveal this particular piece of information will come.

He has no idea what time it is. Judging by the morning light filtering into the room, it's just after sunrise, the sun's rays piercing through the blinds and casting a warm, golden glow that gradually fills Steve's hotel room.

Moving as carefully as he can, he cranes his neck to check the aged alarm clock on the bedside table. It tells him that he was right, it's 7:58 a.m., and the sun has risen just minutes before him. The light filtering in is soft and diffused, making the colors seem muted yet rich, with shades of pale orange, pink, and yellow dancing across the surfaces. Long shadows stretch out elegantly, accentuating the contours of furniture and objects in the room.

It's Steve's favorite time of day. There's a sense of quiet serenity in this early morning moment as the world slowly awakens. It offers a brief respite before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.

These days, early mornings hold an even more special place in his heart because it's the only time of day he can just look at Eddie.

Sometimes Steve thinks Eddie is like a hummingbird, always moving until all his energy is used up and he falls into a deep slumber that almost looks like he's dead to the world. It allows Steve to soak him up undisturbed and unabashed. His fingers carefully exploring the hills and valleys of hard muscle and soft flesh, he can drink in the swirling ink on Eddie's pale skin.

It's such a stark contrast from the rest of the day.

Eddie often seems driven. By the perceived expectations of others, by his own fears of falling short. By his own demons, which Steve has only glimpsed. But as the darkness of the night gives way to a new day, Eddie looks at ease.

It's probably too soon to think, but Steve hopes it's because he's now sharing Eddie's bed. That Eddie feels safe with him, safe enough to let go of all the things that plague his beautiful but sometimes overwhelmingly loud mind.

That's why it pains Steve to be the one to wake Eddie from his peaceful slumber and bring him back to reality. But they have a sound check at 9:15 because the venue has had some problems lately and they need to make sure everything goes off without a hitch tonight. This whole tour means too much to them, to Eddie, for it not to be perfect.

Pressing a gentle kiss just above where Steve can feel the steady beating of Eddie's heart, he softly calls Eddie's name. Not surprisingly, nothing happens, so another kiss follows the first, this time on Eddie's collarbone.

"Eddie, c'mon," he tries again, this time closer to Eddie's ear, eliciting a soft murmur. "We have to get up, the soundcheck -"

"Mm, they can check the sound without us," his - Eddie's - voice comes in a slightly drawn out tone. "Don't wanna get up."

Eddie, obviously not fully awake yet, wraps his arms around Steve and buries his face in Steve's hair.

"I know, ba-" Steve stumbles over the pet names that want to come out more and more now that they're so much closer than when he first started touring with Corroded Coffin. "I know. But we can grab a big coffee with enough sugar in it to put an elephant into a sugar coma, and when the check is done, we can come back to the hotel and sneak into your room and I can make it worth your while."

Steve's tone is low, almost a purr, as he says this. The others don't know about them yet, although Steve thinks that at least Robin and Chrissy have their suspicions. And Jeff has been watching them more closely as well. He's sure that they'll tell them soon, but first they want to enjoy getting to know each other this way, without their friends getting involved.

"Five more minutes and I will make it worth your while. Whaddya say, big boy?"

Before Steve can answer, most likely telling Eddie no, we're going to be late and how are you going to explain that to the others, Eddie rolls them both over until Steve lands on his back with a soft umph. Above him, Eddie is smiling down at him, suddenly much more awake than seconds before.

"Hi," he says, nudging Steve's nose with his own.

Steve doesn't even try to fight the dopey smile, even as he rolls his eyes at Eddie trying to get what he wants by playing dirty. It's so Eddie, just like the wolfish grin on his face.

"I'll make this the best five minutes of your life, Harrington. Scout's honor."

Steve snorts. "Scout's honor? I doubt you ever talked to a scout in your life."

"Oh yeah. In fact, I'm sleeping with one. And I'm about to kiss one before I rock his world."

"See, that's where you're wrong."

"Is that so?"

This makes Steve laugh out loud. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," Eddie replies, then hesitates as his choice of words seems to register with him.

Before the moment between them ends in awkwardness, Steve leans in to kiss Eddie on the nose. "How did you know I was a Boy Scout?"

Steve's distraction works, and the worry in Eddie's eyes is replaced by mischief. "Just a guess, but good to know."

"Ass."

"I have it on good authority that you like my ass," Eddie teases, and Steve has to agree. He really does. As much as he likes everything else about Eddie. How much is becoming a problem.

Instead of saying any of these things, Steve looks over at the alarm clock, which now reads 08:04. He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. "I think your five minutes are up, and I have to say, not the world-rocking I was expecting, Munson."

"Oh you..." Eddie growls before swooping in to capture Steve's lips in a deep kiss. It turns into another, and another, the dim light in the room growing brighter around them as they become lost in each other.

Eddie makes it to sound check just in time, while Steve is ten minutes late, carrying five cups of coffee. He hopes no one notices the bright grin Eddie flashes with the first sip of his overtly sweet coffee, or the wink he gives Steve.

A promise is a promise, and Steve intends to keep them all when it comes to Eddie.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #rockstar eddie munson #drummer steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #steddielovemonth #day 16 #love is staying in bed for five extra minutes because you can't tear yourself away from them just yet #my writing #pickup note

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asoulwithadream · 7 months

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Day 16: Favourite OFMD line delivery

I have been WAITING for this day

This is fucking fascinating. That's your nan? Jesus,

COMING NANA

I'M COMING FOR SOME CAKE!!!!!!

(To join this challenge, check out this post)

#30 days with ofmd #day 16 #14 days to go #literally only 2 weeks left omg #ofmd #our flag means death #this is happening #oluwande boodhari #coming nana #coming for some cake #this scratches my brain in all the right ways

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autisticaradiamegido · 3 months

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Draw Kanaya being flocked by moths due to her glowing (MOTHS!!!!!!)

day 16

OH GOD NOT THE MOTHS

#day 16 #year 5 #kanaya maryam #rose lalonde #rosemary

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steviewashere · 2 months

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Dream Come True

Rating: General CW: Minor internalized ableism on Steve's end Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Adopting a Child, Parenthood, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Let Them Live a Quiet Life God Damn It, Mild Hurt/Comfort

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is about healing each other's wounds."

💕—————💕

They haven’t discussed children since the second month they were together. Was that probably a little too early in their relationship? Probably—Eddie will be brave enough to admit that right now. But, considering where they’re at now: Steve is forty-seven and Eddie’s forty-eight, their wedding bands are simple and gold (something easily spotted amongst the silver ones that Eddie still wears), the house they took a loan out for is painted yellow with white shutters installed (well, they paid Dustin and Will to do it. They were happy to help), they live in Massachusetts away from public eye, and though they don’t have a dog—not yet, the service dog process has been a long and weary one on Steve’s end—they have their little brown tabby cat. They’ve got a well furnished home. And years of love between them.

Nearly twenty-eight years in total. Nineteen years wedded. Six years of that are legally recognized. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is they stopped talking about the prospect of having kids.

Eddie’s initial answer at the beginning was, “Maybe. I think it would be neat. But, I’m gay, Steve. That isn’t really a possibility.” He chuckled a little bit. “I meant like adopting, but in a technical sense—Considering what’s in my pants, the possibility is still out the window.”

Steve’s was changed from what he told Nancy in that Winnebago. “I still want children. Or, just one. I want a quiet life. Even if you make it as some big rock star, I want a quiet private life.”

It was doable. What Steve had whispered on Eddie’s shoulder, that was doable. The question for years though was, When does he want that? And also, When will he leave to pursue that?

The answer was clear. Steve was never going to pursue that. That, sure, they’d have the quiet life. But never have children. And Eddie saw him wilt a little further and further. When they passed by the playground at the park. The daycare up the street from their home. After the seizure diagnosis, Steve stopped looking and thinking about it all together. It hurt Eddie’s heart.

He may have got the quiet life. And Eddie may have lived out his simple dream. He’d been a rockstar for a little bit in the late nineties and early two-thousands, retiring before they got married. But…Steve hasn’t lived his dream. Eddie hates that he thinks it’s being held back from him. Eddie’s determined to heal that hurt inside him.

——— Steve comes home from his Wednesday teaching shift around four in the evening. Eddie’s already on the couch, combing Poncho’s fur, watching the local news. He’s got a very important print out laid neatly on the coffee table. He hears Steve set down his briefcase on the dining table, his footsteps retreating to their kitchen to rinse out his thermos, coming back to the front door and placing his loafers on the shoe rack, and he hangs up his coat. Then, he enters the living room, hands scrambling to undo his tie, body leaning over the arm of the couch to press a kiss against Eddie’s mouth.

But then he pulls away, turning his whole body to watch the news. And that’s when he spots it. The flyer. He shuffles over on his mismatched socked feet, hands falling away from the collar of his dress shirt. He swipes up the paper. Behind his glasses, he squints.

It’s advertisement for the adoption agency some forty minutes out. Eddie hopes, by everything, that this will heal the pain in his own chest, and the emotional line of thinking in Steve’s brain. Hopes with everything that his body can physically give.

“What’s this about?” Steve asks. His voice is neutral. Almost…dare Eddie say, steely. Okay, maybe he made the wrong move. “We haven’t even—“

“I know,” Eddie immediately says. “I know we haven’t talked about it. But, sweetheart, just listen to me, alright?” At Steve’s confused and hesitant nod, Eddie tries to arrange his words. “This is something you’ve been wanting since forever ago. And I know that I haven’t really voiced my wants on it. But I also thought that it would never happen.

“That it would never be something people like me—“ He raises his eyebrows and points to the keyring attached to Steve’s belt loop. The short rainbow garland that sits discreetly among his keys. “—Would ever get the chance to do. But I—Steve, god, I want it so bad. I want to be able to be a dad and chase around a kiddo of our own while you’re busy at work. I want to see one off for school for their first day and cry like I’ll never see them again. Wanna make them a lunch they can bring to school, the same time that I make your lunch for your school. I want to watch them grow up with your goofy dancing skills and our combined love for music. And I—I want to be a better parent that I could’ve ever imagined.

“I want it with you,” Eddie breathes. “I want all of that with you. And I know that you still want it. Your forlorn looks at couples with babies. Every time you see Lucas and Max and their spitfire teenager, your eyes get this brightness to them that I—I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen you happy like that since we got married.” He swallows at some of the implications there. And it’s not meant to be accusatory, but gosh does Eddie notice. The way his sunflower wilts. “This is just something for you to think about, okay? I know my decision on it. But think about it.”

Steve’s grip on the paper trembles. And his eyes are searing Eddie in a way that melts him. Blazing with adoration and love. “You want that?” He shakily asks. “You want to raise a kid with me?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, baby. I really, really, really do.”

“Even though…Even though I have seizures that could scare them shitless? And I get so angry some days that all I can do is hide in our bedroom and cry? And I—You want that with somebody like me?” He hesitates to ask again. Eddie doesn’t answer, but his arms open in comfort and his eyes soften with earnest. Steve doesn’t move from his spot, though. He looks back at the paper. “What’s the—Our first step?”

“We apply. And they determine if we’re worthy and that it’ll be safe,” Eddie answers. “If they see us fit, they’ll look at our house and things like that. We’ll come back to that later on. If that’s something you still want.”

“Okay,” Steve states with fervor. “Let’s do this.”

——— After a tedious process, Eddie realizes how correct he was.

It’s a Saturday. The curtains are open. Dinner is simmering on the stovetop. And Eddie stirs the soup while he listens in on Steve’s activity in the living room.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve is cooing. “Good job, Carmen. Look at you.” He’s been supervising her tummy time everyday he’s able to. Loves being able to lay on his back on the floor, eyes watching their daughter, his fingers combing through her hair as she uses her wide brown eyes to wonder about the world around her.

Eddie bites back a smile.

“That’s Poncho,” Steve is saying. He’s introducing them like they’re all acquaintances around a water cooler. Eddie, maybe, snickers a little bit behind his hand. “He’s gonna be your buddy. He likes the space between his shoulder blades scratched. Just like you, huh?” And hears the moment that Steve dully traces his fingernails on Carmen’s back. She gurgles a little excited babbling. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” Steve murmurs. “Daddy likes that, too.” He’s talking about himself. Because he practically fought tooth and nail for that title. Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

From the kitchen archway, Eddie surveys the display on the living room floor. And Steve’s on his back in his pajamas. Glasses smooshed awkwardly up his face as his cheek is pressed against the carpet, eyes gone soft and glistening while Carmen is on her belly. Her hands are sprawled in front of her, squeezing at the soft toys they had gotten. He’s brushing his fingers through her short, curly wisps of brown hair. Then, his hand travels back down to massage and scratch at her back again. She’s wearing a pink striped onesie and a pair of white socks on her little feet.

He clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up at him, softly smiling. “I reckon things are going good in here?” Steve only nods, too enamored with petting at Carmen’s back. Eddie finally smiles at him. “Good,” he whispers. He leans his weight on the doorway. A dish rag thrown over his shoulder, arms crossed low over his belly, hair thrown up in a loose bun on his head. Domestic life has really begun to suit him, if he’s honest. He finds himself at ease about it now.

As he turns back to the kitchen, to serve up their bowls of soup, Steve calls his name. He immediately turns back around. Greeted with his husband’s soft face, his deepened smile lines, his messy hair spread on the carpet. He’s more youthful than ever, fatherhood has changed him for the better, at least Eddie thinks so. He hums to see what Steve needs, because by god, he’ll do anything for him.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers.

“For what?”

“Making my hurt go away,” Steve says. But Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. And Steve clarifies, “Allowing me to accomplish my final dream. I’m really happy that it’s with you.”

Eddie crosses into the living room, crouching down to kiss Steve’s forehead, pecking Carmen��s soft head, too. He combs his own fingers through Steve’s hair. Smiling at the way he keens. “You made me believe that I could be a good dad,” he admits. “I can’t wait to do this right.”

Steve brings a hand to Eddie’s cheek. His index finger softly tracing down the side of his face. “Love you,” he murmurs.

Turning his face, Eddie kisses the tip of Steve’s finger. “Love you, too,” Eddie easily says in return.

Sure, he got to be a rockstar, but he thinks that this life—Steve soft and middle aged and smiling at him, petting down their daughter’s back, cooing soft as if he’s not almost fifty—is much better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed. Maybe filling the hole in Steve’s soul, the remedy that their daughter brings—Maybe that heals something for Eddie, too.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 16 #domestic fluff #domestic steddie #fluff

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nonetoon · 6 months

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Caught-on-Tober Week 3: The Party 🎉 🎈

15. Chit Chat / 16. Game Night / 17. The Playlist / 18. Halloween TV Movies / 19. Taking A Break / 20. Down the Hall to the Right / 21. Who Invited ..?

#my art #caught-on-tober 2023 #caught on tober 2023 #creature design #week 3 #day 15 #day 16 #day 17 #day 18 #day 19 #day 20 #day 21

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creativepromptsforwriting · 1 year

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Sixteenth Day of Gift-Giving

Sixteen Sinful Sentences

"Oh, is that how you like it?"

"You are such a tease!"

"No touching right now. That comes later."

"Think you can handle that?"

"You're so very tempting..."

"How do you like that?"

"I don't think you've had enough already."

"Someone should punish you for that."

"You can be a bit rougher if you want."

"I want you to be louder, my love."

"Please, mark me."

"Tell me exactly what you want."

"I want to make you mine."

"Yes, please keep doing that."

"The night's definitely not over yet."

"I believe I could make you do it."

24 Days of Gift-Giving

#24 gifts #smut prompts #day 16 #24 days of gift giving #writing prompts #prompt list #writing inspo #advent calendar #creativepromptsforwriting #writeblr #writing ideas

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incorrectmarvelquotesss · 3 months

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— flufftober (day 16) —

Warnings: fluff, dad!bucky (he’s a warning), sexual tension, a bit of sad!Bucky, pregnancy

Prompt: Fireplace

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

@flufftober || flufftober masterlist

A/N: these are going to be veryyy late submissions. but it’s not my fault writer’s block hit me now. i mean kinda but not really. i’ll be posting these randomly here and there when inspiration comes. enjoy!

Bucky surveyed the living room with a small frown adorning his lips and a small twinkle in his eyes. His eyes trailed over the couches covered in crayons and papers before falling to the action figures and toys laying on the floor like casualties of a battlefield. The smell of chicken nuggets and fries lingered in the air, mixing in with the vanilla scented candle he had lit after the boys were sent to bed.

He heard you before he saw you, the telltale creak of the second step alerting him before you could remember it existed. He saw you step up beside him with a sigh and send a long glance at the pile of dishes in the sink. He smiled softly at the adoring smile that had somehow, in amidst of the chaotic closing of the night, appeared on your lips.

He nudged your shoulder with his. "Think we'll survive this?" He joked when you turned your head to look at him. The teasing tone in his voice made you giggle, lowly so that you didn't wake the sleeping boys.

"We always do, don't we?" You replied swiftly, looking at the family portrait you had managed to take last month at Disneyworld—a gift from Tony. You and Bucky were at the center, holding the one of two-year-old twins each, Grant & Thomas, while the four-year-old Grayson was held in the middle by Bucky. The smiles on each of their faces were adorable enough to have you slightly hazy with the memory.

With a huff, you looked at Bucky and said, "Let's split up."

"Toys or dishes?" Bucky raised his eyebrows and waited for your answer. You smirked and looked at the floor covered in Legos, action figures, and blocks.

"There's no way I can bend down for that long, Buck," you answered, placing your hand on your swollen belly. Bucky chuckled and nodded, a rare grin on his face that lit his face and flashed his dimples.

You two were done with kids—you really were done after having three boys—but you knew Bucky had wanted a girl. And you secretly did, too. Especially after seeing him with Morgan, you both starting trying again. It wasn't as if you weren't opposed to having another boy either—all three boys were such mama's boys that it made both you and Bucky all warm inside.

When you had brought that up, Bucky had laughed and kissed your concern away, adding in a simple, "If this one turns out anything like the boys when they grow up, I'll be more than happy. Boy or girl." That was the end of your worries. When you two learned that you were having a girl, it became apparent that Bucky's phrase third time's a charm turned out to be true.

"I'll get cleaning here then," Bucky said while reaching out to grab your hand and kiss your knuckles. "But you gotta promise me that you'll sit down if your feet hurt. And you—" his eyes flickering down and his metal hand coming to your stomach— "don't give your mama a hard time, 'kay?"

A soft kick landed on his hand and his smile widened. "I hope that was an 'okay, papa' and not a hard no," he teased with a wink at you.

"Yeah, okay. I promise." You smiled up at him and tilted your head as an invitation. He leaned in to peck your lips and then you two split up as planned.

He quickly gathered the bigger toys first, knowing he would trip over them or not see a Lego piece before it was too late. After dumping those to the side, he bent down and started piling the Legos together and then dumping them into its container. He fell back to sit on his butt after noticing that he had been balancing on his toes. He sat with his legs bent and elbows resting on his knees.

He had barely begun and he was already tired of cleaning up. He glanced around the couch to look at you. You were almost finished with the dishes, wearing an apron to reduce the water from staining your clothes. Well, they were his hoodie and sweatpants, but he was pretty sure you wore them more often than him. He never minded it, even if he complained about never having his clothes with a playful glare aimed at you.

Bucky got up and walked over to you silently, purposely missing the creaky board. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling you jump slightly in his arms before settling into his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit down if—"

"If my feet hurt," you cut in with a chuckle. "I know, but I'm okay right now. Promise." He hummed and pulled you closer to him. He kissed the curve of your neck and made his way up to the sensitive spot that made you squirm away.

"Hey," Bucky protested with a boyish smile. He tightened his arms around you with mind to the swell of your belly and the baby girl inside to keep you in place as he kissed that spot again.

"Bucky!" You squealed, but pressed your lips together the next moment with his little hush.

"The kids are sleeping," he murmured against your skin, causing a shiver to seep through your body. "Don't wanna be too loud—"

Your hiss made him pause and move away, suddenly scared that he had hurt you with his strength. It wouldn't be the first time that he had, but those times were under different circumstances and controlled. Just as he was moving away with his arms loosening around you, you grabbed his forearm and leaned back into his chest.

"Doll?" He whispered, afraid to speak. He swallowed when your breath hitched again.

"She's kicking my ribs again," you mumbled, eyes closing and head tilting onto his shoulder. He relaxed a little, wrapping his arms around you again, and slipped his hands under the hoodie to rub little circles into the soft skin. "She's strong, though. That much is obvious."

Bucky kissed your neck. "Just like her mama."

"Pretty sure it's that super-soldier serum."

"Don't drag my wife down." He bit your neck playfully. "You're the one who gave birth to our boys. We both know I'm not that strong."

"There's other complications with that, anyway," you remarked, relaxing when you realized that the kicking had ceased.

"Just take the compliment, doll." Bucky saw you smile and open your eyes, placing the last dish on the rack to dry and turning in his arms. You grinned and an idea sparked in his head. "What d'you say we turn tonight into a date night?"

"What?" You laughed slightly and placed your hands on his chest.

"Just—" Bucky let out a breath— "Just go sit down on the couch, the only one not covered in papers and crayons, and relax and wait for me to clean up. Then we can watch a movie with the fire going. What d'you say, huh?"

"I say," you started, moving your hands around his neck and tangling them between his locks, "it sounds like we'll be watching what I want to." Your eyes sparkled with amusement and mischief.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Sounds about right."

"Well, then, get ready to watch Scream."

You backed away and walked into the living room. You hopped over the toys still scattered with a smile and flopped down on the couch. Bucky followed you and grabbed the remote to pass to you before he started to clean up the remaining toys. He started the fireplace and watched it blaze for a second. Then he realized that the lights had been turned off.

"You ready, Jamie?"

Bucky sat down next to you. Your presence seemed to warm him more than the fireplace.

"'Course I am."

———

Taglist: @pinkposttragedy

add yourself to the taglist >here<

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finntheehumaneater · 4 months

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I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Angsty scentance prompt: 5. I don’t want to fight with you. Not tonight. (@steddiemas)

“I just don’t see why this has to be a big deal!” Eddie was so close to yelling, but he was trying to keep his tone under control. He should have been back home at his apartment with Wayne an hour ago, but this little argument was making him late, and he was fucking pissed about it.

Steve crossed his arms, his eyes watering slightly, and Eddie desperately wanted this argument to be over, but Steve just couldn’t fucking see reason. “They’re my family, Eddie, I can’t just not go.”

“Of course you can fucking not go!” Eddie snapped, glaring at Steve. “Stevie—you don’t owe them anything! Every time you see them, you come home and you are miserable! And maybe you don’t notice, but that affects everyone, not just you.” He rubbed his hands down his face and tried to soften his tone. “I just don’t understand why you insist on putting yourself through this every time.”

Steve’s breath was shaking and he was gripping at his arms so hard that Eddie was sure he was going to bruise himself. “They’re my family, Eddie.”

“So am I!” Eddie stepped closer to Steve, glaring at him, and he hated the way that Steve flinched slightly when he raised his voice again, but he just kept going. “And I’m a hell of a lot nicer to you than they are!”

Steve looked away, a few tears falling down his face. “I…I—“ he took a deep breath and looked back at Eddie, in what Eddie supposed was supposed to be a glare, but it looked more desperate. “I don’t want to fight with you. Not—not tonight.”

“Then when the fuck are we supposed to talk about this, Steve?” Eddie kept pushing at him—and he knew Steve was close to sobbing, and he felt horrible that he had made Steve cry like this, but he didn’t want to have to Steve that fucking miserable ever again—and god, this argument had been a long time coming. Three years, even. “Because it seems to me like this is a great time to have it!”

Steve did sob. And it was quiet, and it was pathetic, and Eddie immediately softened again, reaching over to move Steve’s hands off of his arms before he hurt himself. “Hey, hey…it’s okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He knew Steve wasn’t listening to him—was in his own little world of hurt, not—but he kept talking anyway. “I just—it could be fun, you know? Just you, me, and Wayne for the holidays. No long drives, no tense conversations, no awkward dinners…just us, yeah?”

Steve isn’t looking at him. His eyes are unfocused and he’s looking off somewhere to the side, but he’s not really looking. His hair is flopping over in a way that Eddie knows bothers him, and his lip is shaking, and he’s still crying. Fuck, Eddie feels horrible.

“Stevie?” Eddie says quietly, gently rubbing at Steve’s arm to try and get his attention without being forceful. “Baby?”

Steve does turn back to look at him eventually—and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus on Eddie’s face again—but when he does, he just sobs. One that shakes through his whole body, and he crumples into Eddie’s arms. “I’m not staying. I have to go! My parents will hate me if I—if I don’t go.”

Eddie sighed and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist to help him stay upright, his cheek pressed against the top of Steve’s head. “Do you really care what they think, or do you just feel like you should? Because honestly, this is the one time that I’ve seen you act like this over them.” And Eddie didn’t say that it was only because he had been pushing and pushing until Steve broke. But that was partly it.

“I have to go,” Steve repeats quietly through another sob, and he slips down to the floor, so Eddie slides down with him.

It takes Eddie a minute to speak again, and because he knows Steve’s mind is set in this, he sighs dramatically and drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder, muttering, “Are you going to be all grouchy with me when you get home, then?”

Steve’s crying pauses for a moment, and Eddie sees his eyebrows furrow, but it’s hard to tell if he’s thinking or pissed off because everything is kind of sideways from his viewpoint. “I’m not—I don’t get grouchy.”

“Yes, you do.” Eddie says, sitting up and taking Steve’s hand. You wrap yourself up in my blanket—my blanket, Steve—and you wander around my apartment and do this all the time—,” Eddie sighed again, but it sounded more like a groan, and maybe it was more dramatic than what Steve actually did, but it got Steve to smile slightly. “And you just keep looking all sad and pathetic until I let you stay the night and we watch a movie. And that goes on for days. Seriously, it always feels like you're slowly trying to move in with me or something.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Eddie pressed a hand to his lips, patting his shoulder. “Nope. That conversation can wait for after the holidays when we’re less busy and I have more time to help you move your things over.”

Honestly—they didn’t even really need to have that conversation, because if either of them asked, the other one would automatically say yes. And realistically, it would be Eddie and Wayne moving in with Steve, because his house was bigger. But Eddie didn’t want to admit that.

“I don’t do that.” Steve said again. He was repeating things a lot recently, and he had been less talkative than normal—less bitchy with the kids. Which meant that he was anxious, and Eddie knew exactly what he was anxious about, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll call Wayne right now and ask him.”

“Please don’t, he’s probably asleep.”

He probably wasn’t. He was probably up waiting for Eddie and wondering what was taking so long—because tomorrow was Christmas Eve and they had a ton of shit to do. “Just think about it, okay, sweetheart? Please?”

Steve nodded, and Eddie kissed his forehead before getting up to go grab his things. They said goodbye, and Eddie drove home in the dark.

— —

Eddie didn’t see Steve the next day. He tried calling but got no answer, and was just about to go over there unannounced (even though he knew that Steve hated that) when Wayne stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, his other hand taking the shoes out of Eddie’s. “That Buckley girl stopped by to tell you that he went to his parents. You were asleep.”

Eddie froze. Steve had left a day early. Probably so that he didn’t have to see him again after their fight. He thought they had made up, though. Sure—neither of them said they were sorry for the yelling and the mean-looks—but they rarely ever did. Sorry kind of lost its meaning over time, and it did nothing to say it when the other wouldn’t believe that you actually meant it. ‘Sorry’ was Steve’s way of getting out of something quickly, and he hated when it was said back to him, because he had told Eddie that it made him feel bad. That he had made the other person feel bad enough to apologize.

Maybe Steve had actually wanted him to apologize? Why hadn’t he said anything? Was Eddie supposed to just fucking know?

“Oh,” Was all he said, his voice quiet.

“Sorry, son.” Wayne muttered, squeezing his shoulder, before walking over to put Eddie’s shoes back on the rack. “I’m sure you two’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He whispered, but he didn’t mean it.

——

Christmas Eve passed, and the next day was about the most pathetic Christmas Eddie had ever had. Most of their decorations were destroyed along with the trailer in the…earthquake, and since Eddie’s band was still mostly a failure (they would make it big, he swore. Just not now. Not for a good long while. The world needed more time to warm up to their awesomeness) they were still fucking poor. Which sucked.

There weren’t a shit ton of decorations like normal, and the tree was small and kind of thin, but Wayne looked happy enough. And even without Steve here—and the fact that he was ignoring him and abandoning him for shitty family members—that made Eddie happy, too.

They didn’t have a fireplace—and they didn’t have one in the trailer, either—but they hung out around the big space heater crammed into the corner of the living room all day because it was the only part of the house that was warm.

Later into the night, it started to snow, and Eddie was finally thinking that he was ready to put the whole Steve thing behind him and enjoy his fucking Christmas when the doorbell rang.

Wayne got up and opened the door, and then closed it again, sitting back down. Eddie looked confused. “Who was it?”

“Steve.”

Eddie shot up at that, some ripped wrapping paper falling out of his lap and onto the ground. “Why didn’t you answer it?”

“If you’re mad at him, then so am I,” Wayne answered simply, going back to balling up the wrapping paper.

Eddie practically ran over to the door, taking a second to breathe before opening it. Steve was standing there, snow in his hair, scarf falling off of his shoulders, his breath forming in white clouds in front of him. He looked out of breath, his face flushed, his nose pink. It was fucking adorable.

“Hey,” Eddie said dumbly.

“Hi,” Steve said back.

There was a small present in his hand, and Eddie stepped aside to let Steve in. Steve put the present down and took off his snowy boots. Then the two of them just…stood there for a moment. Looking at each other. Until Steve huffed and muttered, “fuck it.” And threw his arms around Eddie, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I was wrong,” He choked out. “I hate it there, and as soon as I got in my car I missed you, and I hadn’t even started driving yet, but—I went up to New York City just to drop of the presents for my cousins, because they’re not assholes, but—but then it was snowing too much to drive back, and I couldn’t catch a flight, so I had to stay the night. I swear, the second the storm calmed down I got right back in the car—a-and I have been driving for twenty hours in the last two days, I—“

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, finally moved them from where they were laying limp at his sides. “It’s okay.” He whispered into Steve’s hair, lips pressed to the side of his head as he reached out with his foot to push the door closed. “It’s okay, I know.”

He hadn’t even realized that Steve was crying, but he was, his face pressed into Eddie’s shoulder to muffle his light sobs.

“I didn’t get you a present. That’s for Wayne.” He sniffled, standing up straighter and wiping his eyes. “I was going to but then I forgot, and—“

“It’s alright, don’t worry. You being here is enough.”

“Sap,” Steve muttered.

“Asshole,” Eddie shot back, nothing but fondness in his voice. “Now take your coat off, it’s wet from the snow.

——

hallo! This took me longer to write than I care to admit :)

ignore the cliche title I didn’t know what to write :)

@an-atlas-or-other I wrote another one :D

#Steddiemas #steddie #fic #my writing #day 16 #steddiemas day 16 #Finnwrites

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surelysilly · 6 months

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oct 16th: death echoes

It should've been an easy salt and burn to lay a couple spirits to rest. All it took was a couple stakeout sessions, not even a full day digging through the local library's obituaries, and they had their ghosts — two of the three local teens killed in a fiery lab explosion: Tucker Foley and Sam Manson.

part 1 / part 2 (here)

the lost and forgotten kids (lead them toward other tomorrows)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Danny Phantom, Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Language, Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Harm to Children, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Danny Fenton Died in The Portal Accident, Full Ghost Danny Fenton, Dead Sam Manson, Dead Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton Has an Electric Ghost Core

Summary:

Dean thinks Amity Park could be a cute, idyllic city if it wasn't haunted.

And by haunted, he means that metaphorically and literally. Nothing he can do about the first thing, but the second? Well, here's hoping him and Sam don't go breaking their streak on such a straightforward case.

(Or, an atypical salt and burn blurs the line between monster and not. Lab safety first, kids!)

#superphantom #danny phantom #danny phantom au #ectoberhaunt23 #eh magic #day 16 #death echoes #dp art #dp au #dp fic #batpoopart #batpoopwrite #this fic and art killed me goodnight #it's a desktop/vertical bg btw

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dailyreverie · 6 months

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Under cotton and calicoes

A/N: Y'all should know me by now. I see Santiago Garcia and I immediately think of the softest, most domestic scenarios. This one was requested by the lovely @campingwiththecharmings, I really hope you like it!! Title comes from The Hozier song "Would That I".

@flufftober - Day 16 Singing one another to sleep

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x reader

Word count: 917

CW: As we established before, domestic Santi is a warning.

Flufftober masterlist

You had been tosing the sheets for what felt like a thousand times, and on the 101st fight against the sheets, the clock showed only 40 minutes had gone by since you last checked the time. You sat up, feeling defeated and exposed to the cold night air on your skin. Your head dropped into your hands in a futile attempt to prevent your eyes from burning with exhaustion.

It was then that you felt Santiago's gentle hand caressing its way up your hip to your lower back. It should not have surprised you, and neither should the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table as it turned on. “What’s wrong?” The sleepiness in his voice stirred your heart with a touch of guilt. Santiago didn't always got to sleep soundly, and here you were, disrupting his peaceful night.

ou whispered, knowing that your words were as effective as speaking to a wall. Santiago sat up beside you and planted a tender kiss on your shoulder, making you yearn to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. "I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice tinged with exhaustion, and Santi chuckled in sympathy.

“I figured that out.” His lips traveled to your jaw, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. You found comfort in the warmth of his skin beneath your hands. “Maybe I can help?”

“Unless you are planning on giving me a sleeping pill I’m not sure anything could help.” You say in a lousy effort at humor at 2:40 a.m.

Santi laughs again, pulling you down to bed next to him. It’s easy to fit against his body, with your head in the crook of his neck and your hands over his chest, almost soothing enough to put you right to sleep as his fingers trail up and down your back. To finish it all, he started humming a song, a melody you are familiar with but can’t quite place it, your brain nothing but fog after being awake for so long.

Finally, it clicked as he reached the chorus of the song. In your groggy state, you asked into the darkness, "Are you seriously singing Guns N' Roses to help me sleep?"

Santi doesn’t answer, instead, he changes the humming to singing the lyrics with an audible smile in his voice. “She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain, I’d hate to look into those- HEY!” your hand slapping his chest interrupts him.

“How’s that song supposed to help me sleep?” You asked in between a fit of laughter.

“Well, if you’d let me finish you would be asleep by now.”

“Not with freaking Guns n’ Roses! What’s next, Metallica?”

"Okay, fine. I have a better one. Come back here." His arm extended over the pillows, and you cuddled back against his side with a playful warning glance. After a few seconds, he starts singing: “When you try your best but you don’t succeed.”

“Santiago! That’s just mean!” You push him again, laughing out loud without a care of the late hour.

“That’s the calmest song I know.” He defends catching your arm to not let you go far. “I’m sorry I don’t know any of your boring songs.”

You gasped in feigned indignation, a playful glint in your eyes. "Don't you dare disrespect Hozier like that."

“Okay, okay, fine. What if I learned one?” He was already standing up, rushing to the living room to get the guitar he never really uses but still keeps around.

“Right now? You are going to learn how to play a song at 3 am?” You rested against the headboard on your side, looking at him opening up his laptop to search the chords of a song.

“I’m already up, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” Guilt gnawed at you at his statement. He had been snoring no more than twenty minutes ago, sound asleep, as you should be too.

"You should sleep, Santi. I'll just go to the living room and scroll through TikTok until I fall asleep." Santiago caught your wrist as you attempted to move, preventing you from going.

"No way, no one gets left behind in battle," he declared, ever the army man, evoking a smile of tired appreciation. “Now, let’s get this started.”

You watched from your comfortable spot against the headboard, sunken in pillows and cushions as he scanned the chords displayed on the screen, dancing his fingers along the frets and strumming softly as he went through the first few lines of the song time and time again. His soft voice, mixed with the gentle melody, began to work its magic. Your eyelids grew heavy as you continued to hear Santiago's voice like a distant lullaby.

“...I fretted fire but that was long ago.” Santi finished singing the first strophe with a triumphant smile, setting his fingers back to the first chord. “Honey, I think I got it! Check it-” He turned to you, seeking your approval, but instead found you curled against the pillows, breathing softly, finally asleep. “I guess I’ll show you in the morning.” Santi gently lowered the guitar and turned off the light, casting the room into darkness again as he wrapped himself around you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss to his collarbone as you settled in.

You were the reason he could sleep now, who was he not to help you whenever you needed to rest, too.

✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂

Thanks for reading! Pleasae reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#flufftober 2023 #flufftober #day 16 #triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia fluff #santiago garcia fic #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia headcanon #triple frontier fanfiction

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