#dad!steve

[sunshinesteviee]

quality time - s.h.

summary: steve has some quality time with his newborn wc: 1.1k warnings: descriptions of steve's scars, dad!steve & mom!reader a/n: so i'm pretty sure this was originally a request from an anon literally forever ago, but i cannot for the life of me find the ask, i'm so so sorry! it's been a while since i've posted, so just a lil something for y'all. hope you enjoy! <3

Masterlist

“You wanna hold him again, love?” you ask your husband in a murmur, barely able to pull your gaze up from your newborn. He’s tiny and perfect, and you just can’t get enough of him, even after a couple of hours. 

Steve’s perched next to you on the bed, one strong arm around your body. His thumb traces short, gentle lines over the hill of your shoulder, nose pressing against your temple as he gazes down at your son, “Mhm, yeah, if—“

“You better not be saying ‘if it’s okay with me’, he’s your son, too, Steve. Here, you take him,” you elbow him gently, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. It’s adorable, but totally not necessary. 

His cheeks flame red as he carefully takes the bundle of blankets from you, sheepish as he mumbles, “That’s not what I was gonna say—“

“Save it, baby, I know you better than that.”

He huffs but doesn’t say anything, immediately drawn to his baby boy in his arms instead. He looks like a mini version of you, your nose and eyes that he loves so much; it makes his heart grow ten times bigger. He does have a full head of hair that’s definitely the Harrington gene, though. And maybe he has Steve’s lips, too. 

Steve pulls his arms up, pressing a kiss to his head gently before he moves towards the chair in the corner of the room that he’s claimed as his. Just as he’s about to settle into the chair, a nurse enters the room to check on everyone. She smiles at the sight of your baby boy in Steve’s arms and says, “You know, there’s a lot of benefits of doing skin-to-skin with your newborn. Especially for dad and baby. Helps to regulate baby, and is great for bonding with your baby. Wanna give it a try?”

You expect Steve to say no. Not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to, but you can count the number of times you’ve seen him with his shirt off in public on one hand. After his time in the upside down, he’s marred with scars. Deep ones that eat into his sides and pucker his skin, that are rough and not pleasant to look at. The first time he’d gotten up the courage to take off his shirt at the pool, scars still fresh and pink, he’d gotten incredulous looks and nasty stares. He’d quickly learned that it was better to keep his clothes on to keep the questions to a minimum. He wasn’t ashamed, it was just easier that way. The only times Steve took his shirt off in public was if it was around people who knew what had happened, and even then, sometimes he didn’t want to. The scars were a reminder of all the shit they’d been through, and sometimes it was easier to pretend they didn’t exist. 

So, to say you’re surprised when Steve immediately agrees is an understatement. You watch in shock — and admiration — as Steve hands your son back to you for a moment so he can pull his shirt over his head. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him remove his shirt so quickly, even after all your years together. The bite-shaped scars, though not as prominent as they once were, are on full display, still slightly pink and raised against his tan skin. If the nurse notices, she doesn’t say anything; she only smiles, suppressing a laugh as Steve trades you his shirt for your son. 

He takes him carefully, as if your son is made of glass and could break at any moment. He handles him so delicately it makes your heart burst, and you cradle Steve’s shirt to your own chest. Steve finally sits down, placing his little boy in his lap so he can unwrap the blankets and get him out of his tiny onesie. It’s so small that it nearly makes you cry, even more so as you watch your husband lift your son back up and lay him against his chest once the onesie has been set aside. 

He pauses for a moment, not quite comfortable in the chair yet, eyes flicking to the nurse in the corner of the room as he asks, “It’s not— he’s not gonna be too cold, right?”

“Not at all! Skin to skin is actually great for regulating a baby’s body temperature. He’ll be just fine.”

Steve considers what she’s saying and then nods, finally leaning back into his chair, holding your boy to his chest, “Yeah. Okay, yeah, that’s good.” For someone who had been almost as terrified about being a dad as he was excited, he’s taking to it quickly, just like you knew he would. You knew his insecurities had more to do with his parents than his own ability to be a parent, and so far, he’s already proving himself wrong. 

The newborn scrunch is in full effect, your son’s tiny limbs tucked mostly underneath his body against Steve’s chest. He looks content, and you honestly can’t blame him — Steve’s chest is also one of your favorite places to be. Your husband looks just as content; one hand covering the entirety of your son’s back, fingers behind his head for support, the other hand on his small, diaper-covered bum to keep him in place. Steve’s eyes flutter closed after a few moments, settling back into the chair comfortably.

There’s a Polaroid camera sitting on the bedside table next to you, and you reach for it so you can take a picture. You want to remember this. Not only for the sweet moment, but also for Steve’s clear and immediate love for his little boy. The noise of the camera is a lot louder than you anticipated, and Steve cracks one eye open, sending you the best fake glare he can muster with just one eye. It’s ridiculous and it makes you laugh behind your hand, not wanting to wake your sleeping baby. You murmur a half-hearted apology as the picture prints, not really meaning it. 

Steve snorts his own laugh, his chest moving enough for your little boy to grunt quietly in protest, shifting his position against Steve. Quick to soothe, Steve pats at his tiny back gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama’s interrupting our quality time, huh? She had nine whole months with you, and she just has to interrupt us.” 

“Steve,” you giggle, shaking your head as you hold up the now developed picture, “I was trying to capture the moment!”

“Shhh, we’re bonding!”

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Husband!Steve Harrington x Reader | Inspired by this request

Road trip! You, Steve, and your two boys (with Eddie along for the ride) have made it to the lake you’ll be camping at for the next couple of days. Steve is having some major baby fever. He manages to work out a plan with Eddie that secures time alone for just the two of you, to work on making baby #3…

Includes breeding kink, oral (f receiving) squirting, soft dom!steve, fingering, cum play

For the first time since leaving Hawkins, you hear nothing. No arguing, no complaining, no children’s voices spouting ‘Jimmy just called me a mean name!’- or - ‘Mom! Dad! Dusty’s copying me!’ - or the classic ‘Are we there yet???’ - (which, to be fair, the last one was also asked by Eddie more than a few times…)

Regardless, your and Steve’s two delightfully mischievous boys were talking up a storm the whole way to Kentucky. Somehow, miraculously, Steve had managed to drive the five of you over the Kentucky border and to the lake (your destination) without losing his mind.

Once the boys were set loose from the confines of the cramped backseat, they were able to run around and burn off some energy while you, Eddie and Steve set up camp. Thankfully, the process went smoothly and quickly. You all changed into your swimsuits and had a refreshing dip in the lake to cool off after.

In spite of the challenges parenting entailed, Steve couldn’t help but admire the lives the two of you had created together. The ones that made you a family, so much more than just a couple. Being Jimmy and Dusty’s dad was the greatest honor Steve had ever had, along with being your husband. He hoped, just as you did, to one day expand your family even further. As he watched you playing in the water, yelling ‘Marco!’ as your boys called back ‘Polo!,’ Steve realized he didn’t want to wait another day to start expanding…

Convincing Eddie to take the boys into a nearby town for a movie and ice cream was easy enough. Movies and ice cream were two of Eddie’s favorite things already, and the wad of cash Steve stuffed into his hand was even more incentive to get the kids out of your hair for a few hours.

Now that you’re alone, the silence feels strange. Steve makes up for it by taking your hand and walking with you out to the edge of the lake, helping you relax. He’s got this dreamy, far-away look in his eyes as he gazes out over the water.

“Hey,” you nuzzle his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“I was just thinking,” Steve replies, his hands settling at the small of your back. “About how pretty you look every time I get you pregnant…” His comment catches you off guard, but not in a bad way. You’re…curious. Steve tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, a suggestive glint in his hazel eyes. “…This beautiful belly all swollen and round…”

Steve’s hands glide around your waist and over your stomach, traveling upward to linger on your breasts. “…These gorgeous tits, full and heavy with milk for our baby-.” He abruptly lowers his lips to your breast and tugs your nipple through your shirt. “-And me,” Steve grins up at you, a devilish smirk that has your clit throbbing. “I think I’d like to see you that way again,” he adds, and suddenly, the pieces begin to fall into place.

“You dirty boy,” you tease, a big smile on your face. “Is that why you asked Eddie to take the boys to a movie? So you could fuck me?”

Steve holds you by the wrist, pulling your hand to his crotch. Your fingers instinctively curve around the thick outline of his erection. “I’m not just going to fuck you, honey,” Steve murmurs, his other hand clutching the back of your hair. “I’m gonna get you pregnant tonight...”

Minutes later, you’re both stripped naked and on the floor of your tent. Steve’s hands are all over you, pawing at your body like he’s fucking you for the first time. Guiding a hand between your legs, Steve gropes your cunt roughly till it’s weeping against his palm. He pads his thumb against the puffy button between your slick thighs, making you tremble. Sinking his lips over your earlobe, Steve tugs gently at the soft, sensitive skin. His fingers glide between your swollen, slippery folds, your pussy throbbing under his skillful touch.

“Steve,” you breathe against his cheek, as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna come-.” He suddenly removes his hand; and as you’re reeling from the loss of stimulation, Steve’s crawling down your body and burying his face between your thighs, latching his lips over your clit and sucking the plump bud till you’re moaning his name at the top of your lungs. With a guttural shout, you come undone in Steve’s mouth, gushing between his lips, creating a slippery puddle on the floor of the tent.

Steve lifts his head from between your legs, his face glistening with your cum. He moves quickly up your body, eyes locked with yours as he enters you. A dull groan leaves Steve’s lips, his eyes now glazed with a rabid look of hunger. He pounds your cunt in sharp, determined thrusts, knowing he won’t be able to last long with the way you’re gripping his cock. Steve lurches his hips into yours at a pace that has you light-headed and stupid, reducing you to little more than a bitch to be bred.

Steve’s arms are locked around your upper body, clutching you to his chest. Growling like an animal into your shoulder, Steve pumps your cunt full of his seed, filling and overfilling you till he’s punching his own semen out of you with every thrust. He pulls out of you gently, looking between your bodies at your pussy, sloshing with his cum as you wriggle your hips. “Stay still, honey,” Steve sweetly scolds you. “Little pussy’s so tight, gonna push my cum right out if y’keep moving like that…”

You still your hips, grinning up at Steve’s face, and how serious he’s being. Your smile evaporates into a gasp as Steve’s fingers press inside you, working slick squelching sounds out of your cunt as he scoops and stuffs his oozing cum deeper inside you. “Mmm,” he coos down at you, rubbing his thumb along your inner thigh. “You look so good on your back like this, stuffed full of my cum…” He leans over your body and presses his lips to yours. “…Now keep those hips elevated, baby,” he instructs, glancing at his watch, the only article of clothing he has on. “Stay like this for the next twenty minutes or so, yeah? While I go chop some wood for the fire tonight.”

You nod obediently, deliriously in love with your husband, parting your lips to invite his tongue between them. You watch Steve pull his jeans back on and exit the tent, leaving you bred and contented inside. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fall asleep to the sound of Steve chopping wood outside the tent. While you dream, your womb accepts Steve’s seed as it has twice before…and you dream of him holding his first daughter in his arms…

[madelynraemunson]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

[upsidedownwithsteve]

on duty for a 4.50am feed and thinking about how dad!steve would take his baby to all the autumn things. pumpkin patches and corn mazes and hayrides. the first halloween as a new family is a Thing™️ and careful consideration went into costumes. he’d carve pumpkins and put out candy and it doesn’t matter if his baby can’t walk yet, he’s dressing that kid up as something absolutely adorable and taking them round the streets with a little basket for their treats.

[urhoneycombwitch]

sick days

foreword: first proper fic for dad!Steve series!! thanks for requesting, anon. happy mother’s day to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t (cheers)- I hope this fic is a comfort. hair texture and skin color of the kids in this series will not be described- any physical descriptors will be of their likeness to Steve. if you want to read the origin story/meet-cute of this version of Steve + reader, you can read that here!

{for every ear a flower: series masterlist}

cw: mom!reader, R wears Steve’s shirt, the whole fam is sick in this one (no emetophobia warning tho!), fluff and parental caretaking

wc: 1.6k

___

There’s a soft noise around the corner, and Steve dog-ears his novel to scoot forward on the couch, voice soft and inviting. “Hey, buttercup. That you?”

His eldest daughter, JJ, peeks out from the entryway of the living room. “Me.”

“It’s you,” Steve confirms with a hum, setting his book on the coffee table to open his arms. “C’mere, babe. Your stomach hurting again?”

JJ gravitates towards her dad’s lap like a magnet, dragging her yellow flower-print baby blanket behind her. She’s already three and a half, but Steve hopes she never grows out of it- or the tiny socks with ruffles, warm in his big hand as he holds both her feet in a comforting squeeze.

“Head hurts,” JJ says, in a heartbreaking whine, settling her weight against the contours of Steve’s chest.

He sighs in sympathy, rocking his first baby in his arms like he did when she was even smaller. “Your head hurts? That’s no good.”

JJ makes a noise of agreement and burrows into Steve’s neck, cheek warm where skin meets skin. Steve slides a hand up her back, over her pink cotton nightie, to feel for lingering fever- her forehead is warm but not overly so.

In silent thanks to the wonders of Baby Tylenol, Steve kisses the crown of JJ’s head and pats the side of her leg. “Tell you what- it’s past bedtime but you’re not feeling so good. Wanna watch a movie out here with me ‘til you fall asleep?”

Normally this news would be cause for a screech of delight and some couch jumping, but on the tail end of a long week of sickness, Steve’s little girl just plucks absently at his shirt collar. “Mommy too?”

“Mommy’s putting your sister down for bed,” Steve says, and then (because he always tries to be mindful of where blame could land, knowing full well that disappointment can breed sibling rivalries, and he doesn’t think he could stand seeing that sisterly bond turn contentious)- “But I’ll go see if she needs some help, and then maybe we can all be cozy on the couch. Sounds good?”

JJ hums in response, sounding faded and fatigued, and Steve moves carefully to keep the jostling to a minimum as he stands to re-situate his kiddo on the couch. After tucking the blanket in yellow swaths around her body, Steve turns to the nearby VHS stack above the TV. 

“You want Ariel?” he asks, already reaching to free The Little Mermaid from its plastic confines. 

“Yeah. But no Urz-la,” comes the reply from the couch.

Steve kneels to load the tape into the deck, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they’d slipped. “I promise I’ll be back in time to fast forward.”

The VCR whirs, opening credits coming to life on the screen with a colorful overture to match. After lowering the volume, Steve backtracks to the couch again, dipping to place a kiss against the dimples in JJ’s hand where it curls around a fistful of fabric.

“Be back in a few, buttercup.”

The cheery music fades as Steve moves down the hall; the first door on the right is partially open, and he leans a shoulder against the frame, quietly observing, not wanting to interrupt your rhythm.

In a pair of comfy sweatpants and Steve’s old Hawkins High tee, your form moves smoothly around the darkened room, tracking a short loop from the crib to the changing table on the opposing wall. You’re walking with a gentle bounce, swaying the baby in your arms with each step, a constant murmur of nonsensical soothing as you rock your youngest to sleep.

“That’s it. You’re a sweet girl. Just close your eyes, ‘kay? Shh shh shh. Sleepy time.”

Steve can hear the exhaustion in your voice, even low as it is, and feels a twist of guilt- the college where the two of you work only allows librarian staff one day of sick leave per month, which Steve considers a crime (JJ gets sick at least that often from whatever germs her preschool provides). 

Thankfully, his professor leave is slightly better, a generous three days a month, which he’s unintentionally blown in a week with this last bout of mystery sickness that’s been passed through his little family. 

You, on the other hand, were only afforded a three-day weekend, and not a very restful one at that: on top of trying to recover from sickness yourself, a fevered baby Birdie has been overly fussy while JJ has been desperately clingy to both you and Steve. 

It’s been a long weekend of rotating in and out of three bedrooms, disrupted sleep schedules, and speedy trips to the local pharmacy; a blur of constant motion as Steve and you have tried your best to stay afloat and tend to your sick kids. 

Steve’s grateful the worst of it is over, now that everyone’s fevers have broken, and he’s glad you’ve still got a whole Sunday to recover. But by the looks of it- hovering uncertain over the bars of Birdie’s crib, unwilling to lay her sleeping form down- you’re not giving in to recoup time yet.

Steve moves in behind you, quiet still but shuffling his bare feet against the carpet a bit to let you know he’s there. “Hey,” he whispers into the curve of your neck, hands coming to rest at your hips, joining the rocking motion you’re keeping up for the sake of the baby. “How’s my girl?”

“Better, I think.” The arm that isn’t holding the weight of your six-month-old comes to rest against the fat of her cheek, Birdie’s closed eyelids fluttering while you feel for fever, just as Steve had earlier. “Hopefully she’ll sleep through the night, with this medicine.”

“Mhm. She’s a lot better, babe- I meant you.” Steve molds himself to the contours of your back, swaying to the tempo you keep, nosing up the line of your neck to place a kiss behind your ear. “Can’t pour from an empty chalice. Or whatever that saying is.”

There’s a soft stutter at your ribs as you exhale a laugh, hand still on the face of your sleeping baby. “Think Eddie’s wearing off on you.”

“God forbid.” His arms wrap around your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, smiling when he feels you lean some of your weight against him. “You can put her down, honey. She’s gonna be okay. Come watch Ariel with me ‘n buttercup. I’ll even skip past the scary parts for ya.”

“Well, in that case,” you whisper back, a tinge of amusement in your sleep-scratchy voice that hits Steve in his soft spot of love for you. With reluctance and practiced ease, you slip forward from his arms to lay Birdie in her crib, pausing to make sure she’ll settle without your warmth and movements. 

She stays asleep, and you stay watching her, corner night light illuminating the steady rise and fall of her footy-pajama’d body with each breath until Steve takes your hand, gently coaxing- “She’s golden, honey. You did great. I’ve got the monitor by the couch, so we’ll hear if she’s up, okay?”

Your gaze stays on Birdie even as Steve leads you backwards towards the door, even leaning to catch one last glimpse before he pulls the door to a near-close. In the light of the hallway, you blink, looking more worn out than Steve’s ever seen you.

He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing across the knuckles, tortoiseshell-framed eyes on your half-lidded ones. “Ariel?”

This seems to resonate in the fog of your mind; with a nod, you squeeze his hand. “Ariel.”

On the living room TV, Ariel and Flounder are exploring a shipwreck, and JJ’s watching from her snuggled spot with glazed eyes until she sees you in the doorway. “Mommy,” she says, with feeling, trying to prop herself up but getting tangled in the process.

“Hi, baby,” you greet with equal verve, kneeling to give your eldest baby some untangling and a kiss. “Can I watch Ariel with you?”

In response, JJ musters all her three-and-a-half-year-old strength to pull you on to the couch cushion, and Steve chuckles in tandem with you as you go easily, shushing gently- “Okay, JJ. Don’t strain yourself, angel, just rest.”

There’s nothing like your touch. Steve knows it, and so do both his kids- under the circular pattern you trace against JJ’s face pressed into your leg, her lashes flutter, lulled to calm again by the caress of your fingertips.

After Steve makes sure that the baby monitor on the windowsill is crackling with life, he eases into the spot beside you, draping his arm around your shoulders- you nestle into his side out of habit. JJ’s nearly asleep, but your hand doesn’t waver, generous and tender even though sleep pulls at the edges of all your movements.

A shark snaps at tailfins across the screen, volume low enough to not shake JJ from the sleep she’s fallen into. Steve kisses that same spot behind your ear, then whispers, “Perfectly good shoulder right here. Wish you’d use it.”

He’s rewarded with a dreamy smile as you give in, head dropping to rest in the hollow of his waiting shoulder. Your hand stops its tracing, instead landing to rest securely over your daughter’s arm.

Soon, Steve is eased to sleep by the quiet breaths filling the living room, head tilted back against the couch, glasses tilted to one side. He’ll have a killer neck crick in the morning, but it’ll be worth it.

And luckily for him, you’ve got the most healing hands in the world. 

[harringtons-cupid]

𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 - 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Summary: The fifth anniversary brings an accidental conception.

Smut: (18+) Choking, finger choking, creampies, dirty talk, cunnilingus, cum eating, nipple pinching. Fingering, biting, clit spanking. Possible pregnancy risk

Fluff: Cute endearments, kissing, cuddling. Surprise trip.

| Masterlist | KO-FI | Divider credit |

Your bags were packed the moment you arrived home from work, Steve didn’t tell you where you were going only that it was a ‘Surprise’.

Leaving you in suspense for the whole car journey, he had packed you the necessary items for a long car ride.

Every question you asked was shut down, making you sulk in the passenger seat.

By the time he pulled up at the car park, you were asleep against the window pane. His soft voice tried to awaken you but you snored quietly.

“Baby, we are here” he tried again, shaking you lightly.

Groggily you opened your eyes, slightly annoyed at being woken up from your nap.

But looking at his gentle smile, you wobbled across the stoney entrance way towards the beach house.

The cool sea breeze snuck up your jumper sleeves, sending chills down your spine. Steve had already brought your bags inside, he helped you across into the house.

It was beautiful inside, situated right on the beach. The waves were lapping against the stoney front, a log fire was in the bringing warmth into the room.

You were in shock, it was your first holiday with Steve and he chose the most idyllic place. Your anniversaries usually meant that you and Steve sat uncomfortably at a rather expensive restaurant.

It was your 5 year anniversary, a big one in both your eyes but since your promotion. Niether of you had time to plan a date, let alone a holiday.

“Oh Stevie, this is wonderful” you clutched your face as you gazed around at the beach house.

He walked closer to you, smiling at you dreamily. When you first started dated Steve, he was very different to who he was now.

You could say that he found someone who loved him deeply for who he was.

As you settled into the sofa with him, glasses of wine were poured between you. You couldn’t believe your luck.

It was cold with the wind rattling the glass panes door, candles and the fire lit your ambience.

His hands stroked your skin softly, relaxing you even further than you thought you could be.

“Five years with me, how have you put up with me?” He teased, gazing into your eyes.

“I could say the same” you laughed with him.

Both of you pausing for a few moments to reminisce, downing your wine rather quickly.

“I love you” you said after a few minutes.

“I love you too baby” he whispered into your ear, his hand moving down towards your thigh.

You were wearing leggings with Steve’s oversized hoodie, his hand moved from your thigh and rested under your underwear.

Kissing you passionately, from your lips to your collarbones. Making your legs tingle as he bit and nibbled on your neck, a soft moan escaped from your mouth.

“Steve” you moaned at him as his hand trailed towards your clit.

“I think you have deserved a treat baby” he whispered in your ear.

His fingers circled your clit, causing your body to rise and fall at the sensation. The wine surging through your veins, giving a different kind of confidence.

“Please, I need it” you panted as he increased pressure against your throbbing clit.

He removed his hand just at the moment where you were growing more aorased.

Pulling your leggings and underwear down, he moved you so that his head was positioned at the right angle to eat you.

The pool of sensation was more intense by every passing second, his hands held your thighs down as he began to suck on your clit.

“Fuck, fuck” you panted heavily, needing him more and more.

The years together didn’t matter, you were always wet for Steve.

He mumbled against your wet pussy as he slipped a finger inside, you began to grind against his fingers and tongue.

“I need more Stevie” you whined, aching for more than his fingers.

Slipping another finger inside, stretching you out as he sucked harder and harder onto your clit.

You tried to hold in your orgasm but it was very hard, Steve was curling his fingers deeper and deeper.

You came hard against his face, he ate everything that you gave him.

He removed his face, taking heavy breaths as he continued to finger you.

“Such a good girl for me” he cooed, looking between your face and pussy.

You weren’t sure if you could cope any longer, your legs shook as you came for the second time.

Squirting against the sofa and Steve, he was smirking up at you as he removed his fingers. Watching you shake underneath him.

He thrusted your damp fingers into your throat, forcing you to suck your cum off them. He pushed them deeper until you gagged on them.

As you caught your breath, you laid there and watched him undress. He was beautiful.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre cum. He was desperate.

Rubbing his cock up and down of your aching pussy, you shuddered at the feeling.

Spanking the tip of his cock on your clit, your eyes closed tight as you mumbled with the intensity.

“Can I fuck your pretty pussy baby?” He whispered.

You nodded hazily, opening your legs further for him. Needing him more than you could admit.

“Please” you said tiredly, pulling him closer to you.

He played with your entrance before sliding inside you, groaning together as your pussy closed around his cock.

Starting off slowly, he gradually increased his thrusts as his hands played with your tits.

Squeezing and pinching your nipples making you whimper between every thrust.

“God baby, you feel so so good” he moaned into your ear.

After pinching your nipples enough that it began to hurt you, his hand snaked around your throat and squeezed.

You watched as his eyes flickered shut, guttural moans escaped him. His hands were tight around your neck and your hips rocked with his.

Just as your eyes rolled back, he released his hands around your throat giving you time between thrusts to catch your breath.

He leant forward and peppered your throat with his kisses, slowing down his strokes.

“You okay baby” he said against your lips.

Moving your hair from your face with a kiss, sweat clung to your body as you relax into him.

“Yes Stevie” you said quietly.

He loved being called that, especially during sex. The neediness you possessed, made him want you harder.

His strokes were still slow and gentle as he kept kissing you, you kept clenching and unclenching your pussy around him.

He was weak for you as he groaned onto your skin, grasping onto the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck baby, I could cum any second” he shuddered.

You loved being in control of his orgasm. It made you feel powerful.

“Stevie, will you cum in me?” You cooed, looking up at him desperately.

Grinding your hips underneath him, lifting your legs tighter around his back.

There was something romantic about having sex with Steve as the sea battled against the sand outside.

“Oh shit, are you sure?” He groaned gutturally.

You knew that he wasn’t really able to control himself in this moment, he was close to cumming inside you.

Keeping up your momentum, you gripped him tightly as his cock twitched deeper inside you.

He came undone, cumming hard inside you. His fingers dug into your skin as he moaned loudly. He didn't pull out for a few seconds afterwards.

That was the thing with Steve, he fantasised about cumming inside you every time you had sex.

Children were not what you wanted yet but with Steve, you'd give him anything.

He held you in the same position afterwards, like he always did. Stroking your face and kissing you, the first night was incredible.

It would only get better with Steve by your side.

[ridestomars]

What about Steve trying to teach his 4 year old daughter how to swim and maybe he’s really comforting

this is so sweet :(

steve always dreamt of practicing sports with his future kids. he had spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about future scenarios where he teaches his children how to dribble, or maybe how to hold a baseball bat without being brought down by its weight.

but throughout all of those years he spent thinking about being the cool athletic dad, he had never even phantom the idea of teaching his daughter how to swim because she wants to be a mermaid. there's nothing wrong with it, but he thinks she might be watching the little mermaid a bit too much lately.

being who he is, he also would never imagine saying 'no' to his little girl. especially when she had asked him so sweetly, with the brightest, most excited smile on her face. and that is why he's standing in the pool, with amelia in his arms, leaning her back on his chest. she doesn't seem to like it, because she keeps whining and kicking her little legs. well, the kicks were part of the exercise, but the strength she was using certainly was not. the water splashed everywhere, and even steve's face was starting to get wet.

"it's fine, cutie," steve holds amelia tight to his chest, standing by the middle of the swimming pool, trying to get her used to being inside the water.

"it's not fine, daddy! it's cold!" the little girl exclaims, her legs already kicking heavily against the water. her voice starting to crack right at the end, which was a clear sign of 'caution: temper tantrum incoming'.

"millie, sweetheart, we haven't even started yet," soft-spoken, his voice feels almost like a warm hug. it does calm her down a little, but it doesn't mean steve's completely off the hook yet.

amelia had a natural short temper that could only be controlled by her father. it was almost like an unspoken thing between the two of them; she would whine and complain when things didn't go how she wanted, and steve always soothed it all, as his patience would miraculously grow infinite.

she scrunches her nose, another indication of her grumpiness. "can i sit down by the edge, please?" amelia was always very polite when upset, and it never failed to amuse him.

nodding, he walks with her to the edge of the pool, sitting her small body there, with little effort. catching sight of her pouty face, the dad asks, "what's with the frown, pumpkin? don't wanna be a mermaid no more?"

"it's just... cold".

"uh huh," steve doesn't buy it for a second, especially when he notices the hesitancy on her brown eyes, growing to be so similar to his. "it has nothing to do with you starting to get scared, does it?"

she widens her eyes at him, like he had just figured out the only secret she was trying to hide. overdramatic, as always. with her chubby cheeks reddening, amy shakes her head, denying it, but the bashful smile on her lips tells steve otherwise.

"there's nothing to be afraid of, cutie. it's just water," he shrugs a little, trying to ease her fear, "you take baths all the time, you know how it's like".

"daddy, it's not the same!" she says through an adorable fit of giggles. steve playfully rolls his eyes, making her laugh even more.

"yeah, yeah, it is," smiling, he puts one of his hands on his hip, looking at her as she calms down. "what you're scared of? is it because it's deep?"

more comfortable now, amelia nods her head, but she feels like adding, "i don't want to get water up my nose".

steve's eyebrows shot up, surprised by the discovery. "we can fix that, mills. d'you trust me?"

the little girl eagerly nods her head, getting excited all over again, just like she was this morning. steve gives her a short chuckle.

"alright. so, you have to hold your breath. like this," he shows her by taking a big inhale, stuffing his stomach, and puffing his cheeks, holding the air in. he watches as his daughter does the same, and he nods approvingly, "and when you come back up from the water, you just..."

steve lets out the remaining air from his lungs in a loud exhale, and amelia copies him, her reddened cheeks flattening again.

"wanna try going for a dip? i'll hold you," steve suggests, just to see if she is willing to attempt. when she comes back up, he'll continue the failed kicks practice.

luckily for him, just the proposal is enough for her to smile with delight, thrilled to get to try it. and watching the way her eyes light up, is enough to make his upper body shake with laughter.

"alright. c'mon now, ariel," he holds his arms out for her.

[lesboobia]

[steddieficrec]

Some Of My Favorite Smut

more than you bargained for by anonymous

(1/1 I 2,432)

"Mike leans in closer, forehead almost touching the door, just in time to hear Steve shushing the girl gently. He gathers her curls with one hand, the other settling around her throat, and pulls–

Their eyes meet.

It’s definitely not a girl.

Eddie Munson stares at him through the tears in his eyes, lips parted in ecstasy as Steve Harrington fucks him within an inch of his life."

OR

Mike kind of regrets staying over at Steve and Eddie's.

#1 crush by pizzabones

(1/1 I 5,713)

"'That was a big sigh. Whatcha thinking about?'

Eddie opens his mouth to say ‘ah nothing’, but he stops himself. Maybe it’s time to let the proverbial embarrassing cat out of the bag and let Steve know just how long he’d wanted this domestic scene with him. He hums, 'You, actually.'"

or

Eddie tells Steve about his long-term crush, Steve tells him a secret of his own.

Somewhere it Hides a Well by teddywesworl

(1/1 I 7,610)

Eddie ducks his head briefly, a gesture that doesn’t quite fit with the guy’s overall image: buzz cut, obvious ink, scars on his jaw. A bunch of his shirt buttons are undone, and Steve can see a white tank and a gold chain underneath.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I’m at a shop in Uptown.” It’s rote, sounds sort of disinterested. Steve might think he’s being dismissed if Eddie Munson’s eyes weren’t raking over him, lingering at his jawline, his throat, his hands when he adjusts his cuffs.

Or: At Lumax’s wedding in 2003, slutty bisexual physical therapist Steve sets his eye on inked up tough guy mechanic Eddie and peels away his mask.

sugar hiccup by 02tilt

(1/1 I 9.101)

His fingers brush over a tiny valley on his forearm. A rough, pink divot where a demobat didn’t bite, but— slipped? Or something. It’s interesting, actually, because if he lowers that arm to his side, he can see where that scar leads. Where the thing managed to latch on and rip a chunk out.

If it weren’t invading his dreams and turning him into an insomniac, he’d congratulate it. Good effort, man, but you didn’t get me. Just made me look a little cooler.

He could call someone. That’s an idea. And by someone, well. Who else is missing a few pieces?

The Honey Inside Your Hive (Director's Cut) by biggest_mistake

(1/1 I 10,764)

Steve Harrington is on his own in a big new city and running out of money. The clock is ticking and if he doesn’t find a source of income soon he’ll be forced to admit his father was right when he said Steve couldn’t make it on his own. Desperate, he scours the classifieds and comes across a vague ad promising a big payout for only a few hours of work.

If Steve had been a little more cautious—or a little less proud—maybe he wouldn’t be losing his virginity on camera.

Or: Steve unknowingly auditions for a porno. Eddie’s more than happy to help him get the role—and lose his virginity. Jim’s there to document the occasion.

(It’s a Casting Couch fic.)

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails by pinkiequinn

(1/1 I 15,121)

The Harrington-Wheeler’s have it all. They’re newlyweds. They’ve just moved into a beautiful new apartment. Nancy’s career has taken off. And they are finally, finally starting a family.

But there’s something not quite right with the neighbours. And the building is so cold. And Nancy’s never home.

And Steve’s has been having the strangest dreams.

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by greatunironic

(5/5 I 34,987)

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

Are You Flagging? by soidade

(17/17 I 40,991)

“Look, I’m just asking, okay? Not– I don't mean anything by it. But, uh.” His eyes darted back and forth, then he leaned in close to Steve. Steve had gotten used to that, kind of. The guy had no concept of personal space. “Are you flagging?” Eddie finally finished.

Steve shook his head slowly, eyes narrowed. He had no idea what that meant. He had no answer. “What?”

Eddie leaned away from Steve, facing forward again and nodding. “Okay, got it. That answers my question. Carry on.”

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

A (mostly) innocent question leads Steve Harrington on a journey of self-discovery, friendship, sex, and romance.

flight risk by Ayes, itskleo

(16/16 I 81,324)

Eddie Munson is famous for giving his bodyguards the slip. Enter Steve Harrington. Has this bratty rock star finally met a babysitter that can keep up with him?

[rosewaterandivy]

a dad!steve thought 💅

I feel like Steve would def take over painting your nails during pregnancy. Takes the job very seriously— color selection, toe spacers, pedi bath and leg massage with your fave lotion.

He doesn’t feel confident enough take over manicure duty, not yet anyway. But once a week he’ll set you up on the sofa with snacks and the remote while he gets to work.

One hand grasped around your ankle, big and warm. He’s got his glasses on and tongue skewed to one side of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand. A sitcom you’re half paying attention to drones on in the background, your husband is far more interesting anyway.

[sunshinesteviee]

fast asleep - s.h.

you and steve pull a prank on your little girl when she pretends to be asleep; based on a tiktok trend i've seen a few times hehe. dad!steve & mom!reader; 1.3k

Masterlist

Phoebe is sprawled across the couch, half in your lap, half in Steve’s. Your fingers stroke through her hair slowly, careful to not pull too hard on the delicate strands. Between that, and Steve’s hand on her calf, thumb stroking short lines over her skin, she’d fallen asleep halfway through The Little Mermaid. But now that the credits are rolling, you can tell she’s at least somewhat awake, pretending to be asleep so Steve will carry her to bed. Her eyes and lips twitch slightly, in the way they always do when kids pretend they’re sleeping. 

Steve will carry her to bed either way, but exchanging a look with him, you know he’s going to have a bit of fun with it. 

“Oh man. Looks like Bee is fast asleep! Missed half the movie, what a bummer. Guess I’ll have to carry her to bed if we can’t get her up,” he says, like he’s whispering, but still loud enough for Phoebe to hear. 

“Uh oh. Bee? Gotta get up, sweet girl,” you try, shaking her shoulder gently. The movement causes the corner of her mouth to curl ever so slightly, and you can tell she’s fighting hard to keep her eyes closed. 

“Bumblebee?” Steve asks, fingertips pressing into the sole of her foot lightly, just enough to tickle, “Wake up, Bee!” 

Though she refuses to open her eyes, a short, muffled giggle escapes her lips, pressed together tightly. Your eyes meet Steve’s over your daughter’s figure, and you both have to hold back your own laughter. She is absolutely everything. 

“Ya know,” Steve says after a moment, still barely above a whisper, “I heard that there’s one way to tell for sure whether or not a kid’s asleep.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, no idea where he’s going with this, but ready to play along, “What’s that?”

“Well, if you pick up their arm and it stays in the air, they’re actually asleep. But if it falls back down, they’re just faking it.”

“We should definitely try, just to make sure she’s not tricking us.”

“Definitely,” Steve repeats, nodding seriously as he pulls the frilly sock covering her tiny foot up her ankle. 

“Alright, let’s see if she’s asleep…” you trail off, taking Phoebe’s wrist in your hand, lifting it up above her head. 

Her hand is so small, just a fraction of the size of your hand. Your thumb rubs over the back of her hand in a soft circle once, twice. Sometimes you can’t believe that you made every single perfect part of the human stretched out across your laps. Making eye contact with Steve, he gives you a bright smile, and you know he’s thinking the same thing. 

Giving the tiny hand in yours a gentle squeeze, you finally let go of it. There’s a split second where Phoebe’s hand seems like it’s going to fall back into her lap, but it stays in the air. You can see the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, all too pleased with herself and what she thinks she’s getting away with. 

It takes everything in you to not burst out laughing loudly at the way her hand stays in the air, the way you can see her lips twitching again, fighting her own smile. Steve slaps a hand over his mouth, smothering the laugh that threatens to burst out of him, head turning to bury his face into a pillow nearby. You bite down on your bottom lip, stifling more giggles as you say, “Oh, she’s fast asleep. Totally knocked out, I can’t believe it.”

She totally thinks she’s tricked the two of you, even more so when Steve finally composes himself enough to chime in, “Guess I’ll have to carry her to bed, we can’t leave her down here when she’s asleep like this.” You know that was her goal the entire time, and this time, she can’t help the smile that breaks out on her face. Despite the smiling and giggling, you’re impressed that she hasn’t opened her eyes yet. 

You gently push her arm down, and then brush a strand of hair out of her face, leaning over her tiny body to press a kiss to her head, “Daddy’s gonna bring you to bed, Bee. Sweet dreams, sleepy girl.”

Untangling himself from the blankets and pile of limbs, Steve finally manages to get up from the couch. He reaches towards the ceiling in a stretch that pulls the hem of his shirt up his torso, yawning loudly. You can’t tell if the yawn is real, or if it’s just for show for your daughter. A wink is shot your way as he takes notice of your staring, leaning down to peck your lips softly. Then he turns to his daughter in your lap with an amused smile, shaking his head fondly. 

His hands sneak under her arms, and then, as if she weighs nothing, he hoists her off the couch and into the air. You’re pretty sure you hear a quiet giggle as he rearranges Phoebe against his chest, moving her head to rest on his shoulder, her legs around his waist, an arm under her butt to support her. He makes it look easy, though he pretends to groan at the effort, “Oof! My little girl isn’t so little anymore. Gotta carry her to bed while I still can… Be right back, honey.” He says the last part to you as he turns towards the stairs. 

He’s joking, mostly, though she is getting bigger and bigger every day. Enough that the thought of not being able to do this soon breaks his heart a little bit. So, he hums softly as he trudges up the stairs to Phoebe’s room, running a hand up and down her back as he goes. He’ll do this for as long as she lets him. 

Steve gets Phoebe into bed easily, having had four years of practice, and tucks her in carefully. She has yet to open her eyes as far as he can tell, and he’s genuinely impressed, though she does seem to finally be nodding off now that she’s in her bed, wrapped in her blankets. He moves one of her stuffed animals closer to her body and bends at the waist to kiss her head softly. It seems she’s really sleepy enough now to forget the charade, and a tiny, tired voice floats up from her pillow, “Nanite, Daddy. Lub you…” 

“Goodnight, Bee, sweet dreams, baby. I love you so much.”

With one more kiss to her head, Steve finally straightens and turns on the white noise machine by her bed before slipping out of her room. He leaves the door open just a crack, the way she likes it so a bit of light from the hall can seep in, and makes his way back to you. 

“Out like a light. For real this time,” he announces proudly as he stops in front of you on the couch. 

“You’re amazing. I can’t believe she fell for that! Think you can carry me up to bed, too?” you ask with a grin, holding your hands up towards him. Steve’s eyes narrow, as if you’ve just challenged him, even though you were totally kidding. 

“You know I can, do I need to prove it again?” he asks, a hand on his hip for a moment before he takes one of your hands and bends down towards you.

“No! I was just— I was kid— oof! Steve!” You know exactly what he’s planning to do and you start giggling nervously, but you can barely get a sentence out before he’s hauling you over his shoulder in one quick movement. He’s even stronger than he looks, and you know he’s not gonna drop you, despite the shriek you let out.

“Shhh!!” he laughs loudly as he makes his way to your bedroom, hands squeezing your legs just shy of meanly, “Bee just fell asleep!”

“Then put me down, Steve!” you huff, feigning irritation as you hit his back lightly, shying away from the door frame as he pushes your bedroom door open. “If you drop me, I’m gonna divorce y—“

You’re cut off again, this time as Steve drops you onto the bed. He does it carefully, only letting go of you when you’re a short distance from the mattress. He’s hovering over you in a second, a hand on hip and a ridiculously handsome smirk on his face, "What was that?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Harrington."

[katsu28]

the harringtons

pairing: dad!Steve Harrington x fem!reader 

summary: The Harrington family enjoys a nice autumn day in Hawkins, Indiana.

warnings: so much fluff, two ocs—Maisie, 6 years old, and Nora, 2 years old, steve being the best dad ever

a/n: steve harrington is a total girl dad and i will die on this hill

very sorry for the lack of writing this past month, i've been swamped with school and work and overall just been in a writing slump! pls bear with me for a few more weeks until the end of the semester, i promise i'll get back into posting more regularly after that. love u all! <33

navigation + taglist

“Babe, have you seen my glasses?” Steve yelled, rifling through the mess of things in the drawer beside the bed. TV remote, bottle of painkillers, a bunch of hair clips, but no glasses. 

Your voice came muffled from somewhere else in the house. “Should be next to the bed!” 

“Yeah, I’m looking now, but I can’t find them!” He knew he was wearing them last night before bed, and he definitely remembered putting them on the table when he went to sleep, so where the hell were they? 

Before he could look any further, a rattle from the closet made him freeze. Steve’s breath caught in his chest, mind jumping to every worst possible case scenario at what could possibly be lurking behind those doors. His hand curled around the familiar smooth wood of his trusty baseball bat from under the bed, knuckles flexing white on the handle as he inched across the room towards the closet. 

He was fully ready to start swinging, ready to protect his home and his family, when he heard…a giggle? 

Steve’s shoulders slumped in relief when he realized it wasn’t an otherworldly monster lying in wait, but a smaller, much cuter one, with chestnut locks just like his and a cute nose just like yours. One who liked polka dots and pepperoni pizza and stealing her dad’s slippers in the morning—who probably had his glasses as well. 

He flung open the doors on the last word, eyes immediately landing on the pigtailed, gap-toothed little girl sitting cross-legged in the dirty clothes bin, Steve’s too big glasses slipping down the bridge of her adorable nose with every barely contained peal of laughter that shook her tiny shoulders.

He flung open the doors on the last word, eyes immediately landing on the pigtailed, gap-toothed little girl sitting cross-legged in the dirty clothes bin, Steve’s too big glasses slipping down the bridge of her adorable nose with every barely contained peal of laughter that shook her tiny shoulders.

He flung open the doors on the last word, eyes immediately landing on the pigtailed, gap-toothed little girl sitting cross-legged in the dirty clothes bin, Steve’s too big glasses slipping down the bridge of her adorable nose with every barely contained peal of laughter that shook her tiny shoulders.

“Boo!” Maisie exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air whilst she jumped out at him. Steve feigned surprise, clutching at his chest and falling back against the carpeted floor with a dramatic shout. She scrambled to his side with a gleeful cackle, planting her tiny hands on his shoulders to lean over him. “Did I get you good, Daddy?” 

“So good, my sweet. Almost gave your old dad a heart attack.” He nodded, flicking one of Maisie’s pigtails playfully. 

“So good, my sweet. Almost gave your old dad a heart attack.” He nodded, flicking one of Maisie’s pigtails playfully. 

“You’re not old!” 

“Thanks, Mais, I—” 

“You’re super old!” She blurted. Steve gawped at his grinning six year old incredulously. 

“I’m super old? Could super old do this?!” He hollered, springing up at Maisie and rolling over so he was the one bent over her now, wiggling his fingers mischievously before digging them into her side lightly. “Could super old be a tickle monster???” 

Maisie’s shrieking giggles bounced off the bedroom walls as she attempted to squirm out of Steve’s grasp with no avail, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favorite sounds in the whole universe. 

“What in the world is going on here?” 

Steve looked up to see you standing in the doorway, Nora propped on your hip as you arched an amused eyebrow at the scene before you. He raised his hands in surrender, giving Maisie the chance to escape from his vicious assault, scrambling over to wrap herself around your leg. 

“I scared Daddy!” She said proudly, beaming up at you. 

A surprised chuckle fell from your lips. “Did you now?” 

“Uh huh! Got him really good too, Mommy.” 

“Little gremlin hid in the closet and everything. Even had my glasses too, ‘s why I couldn’t find them.” added Steve, leaning back on his haunches and wiggling his fingers at Nora with a smile. She wriggled around in your arms almost immediately, making grabby hands at her dad until you set her down gently, easing your husband’s glasses off Maisie’s face and placing them atop Nora’s brown curls. You both watched as she toddled unsteadily towards Steve, babbling nonsensically to herself until she was gathered into his outstretched arms. 

“Hi, dada,” She mumbled, face-planting into the soft wool of his sweater. Steve smoothed a hand down her back, plucking the silver frames off her head and putting them on before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Well, you, my little troublemaker, are supposed to be getting dressed,” You hummed, stooping down to boop Maisie’s nose. “The faster you do, the faster we can get to the park!” 

That definitely enticed her, because her chocolate brown eyes widened and she nodded furiously, peeling herself away from you and bolting down the hallway without another word. 

“I’ll take care of this one while you go get ready too?” Steve offered, heaving himself to his feet with Nora’s sticky fingers tangled in his hair. “Ow, shi—shoot, darlin’, what is that?” 

“‘S yogo, dada!” She squealed, splaying one hand out on his cheek excitedly. “Strawberry yogo!” 

“Strawberry yogurt, huh? I bet it was real good since you got it all over your hands.” 

“Oh, she had a blast with it. Painted the kitchen table pink and all.” You chuckled, crossing the room to kiss his cheek, then Nora’s, before hurrying to the bathroom to get ready. “You’re the best, honey!”

By the time you’d finished getting dressed, Steve had corralled the girls to the front entryway, where he was trying to wrangle Nora into her coat whilst Maisie clung to his back not unlike a monkey. 

Your heart grew four sizes at the sight of them all. Your family. 

Honestly, if you somehow went back in time and told fifteen year old you that one day you’d be happily married to Steve “The Hair” Harrington with two beautiful little girls, you would’ve laughed in your own face. But facing the potential end of the world and almost dying, not once, not twice, but three times really had a way of bringing people together. And even though you’d both been through some pretty terrifying shit (and still had nightmares too), life was good now. Perfect, even. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

Maisie’s squeals of laughter pulled you out of your thoughts, refocusing to see that she was now dangling upside down in Steve’s arms as he cackled maniacally. Something bumped into your leg, and you glanced down to see that it was actually someone. A certain, previously yogurt covered someone. 

Nora raised her arms at you and you obliged, hoisting her into your arms with a grunt before turning eye to the other two. “Are you two goofballs ready to go to the park now, or do you need a minute?” 

“Park.” Maisie nodded solemnly, maneuvering herself upright in Steve’s arms and turning her wide-smiled gaze on him. “Piggyback ride, Daddy?” 

“Your legs work just fine, little miss.” Steve narrowed his eyes at her, to which she just smiled even bigger, missing tooth and all. You liked to call it her ‘anything smile’, because when she brought it into play, she could get her poor old dad to do anything she wanted. Case in point. “Oh alright, fine. Gimme a smooch first.” 

Maisie gave Steve a sloppy kiss on the cheek that he pretended to wipe off in faux disgust, but he shifted her until she was situated comfortably against his back. “Ready to go now, Mommy!” 

You tugged Nora’s knit hat (a handmade gift from Robin for her second birthday that she absolutely adored) down around her ears a little tighter before you all ventured outside. 

The brisk autumn air nipped at your cheeks as the four of you made your way to the small park just down the road, leaves crunching underfoot in a swirl of yellows and reds and burnt oranges. 

About halfway there, Nora started to wriggle around in your arms, kicking her tiny legs to be put down and start walking alongside you. 

“Nora, baby, you gotta hold someone’s hand when you’re walking, okay?” You said, to which she furrowed her eyebrows at you, but eventually nodded. Whether or not she actually understood what you were saying, you had no idea, but you set her down on the sidewalk anyway. 

“Mazzie!” She squealed, sticking her hand in the air towards her sister, who was still settled contently against Steve’s back. “Mazzie, hold!” 

“See that, monkey? Nora bug wants to hold your hand,” Steve chuckled, squeezing Maisie’s leg until she giggled. “You wanna climb on off of me?” She nodded enthusiastically, to which Steve dangled her until both her feet were firmly planted on the ground. “Careful, you two. Watch the cracks in the sidewalk.” 

“I got it, Daddy.” Maisie said firmly, aiming a curt nod at him before taking Nora’s hand gently, which sent the toddler into a fit of excited giggles. “Come on, Nora bug!” 

Your insides melted to mush at Maisie using Steve’s nickname for Nora, even more so when she pulled her younger sister’s hat back down from where it was riding up again, just like you were about to do. Your girls were a perfect mixture of both you and Steve. 

Steve looped his arm through yours, pulling you close enough to press a kiss to the side of your head, grinning fondly as you watched the two girls amble along in front of you. “We sure do make cute kids, don’tcha think?” 

“Pretty sure they got their looks from you, Mister Indianapolis 1972.” You teased, nudging him in the ribs playfully. 

“God, I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you about that. I’m never living it down, am I?”  

“Not in this lifetime.” 

“I was five and my mother forced me into it, babe. I didn’t have a choice!” 

“I’m so looking forward to the day I can show those pictures to the girls.” 

“You kept them?!?!” 

“‘Course I did.” You chirped, grinning cheekily. Steve pouted (very dramatically, might you add). “You had to have known I’d keep those treasures forever, honey. You know me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “But payback will come for you. Mark my words. Might go swing by your parents’ house and see what I can dig up. I think your mom would be delighted to help me.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me, sweetheart.” 

“That’s fine,” You shrugged. “I’ll just bring the girls over to Robin and Nancy’s for a little bit sometime. I’m sure they both have plenty of stories from your glory days.” 

Steve’s cheeks went beet red, eyes widening in what you could only assume was horror. “Okay, okay, you win. I give up, just don’t—don’t let them traumatize our babies.” 

“You’re so cute, Stevie.” You smiled at him sweetly, squeezing his bicep affectionately before pulling away to join the girls as you all entered the park. 

Maisie was sure to leave Nora with you and Steve before beelining straight for the play structure off in the distance, instantly scurrying up to the top and waving frantically at the two of you. She’d always been an avid climber of things—just ask Steve and her uncles, who’d all had Maisie the monkey crawling all over them at least once in their lives. And Maisie would never let her dad know, but her Uncle Eddie was her favorite jungle gym. He always let her launch herself at him and hang around wherever, while Steve tended to go more protective dad mode about it all. 

Nora, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the jungle gym yet, instead opting to toddle alongside you and Steve, picking up random things off the ground every so often and passing them off to her dad. A few pebbles here, a couple pieces of bark there, a fistful of crumbly leaves, Steve’s pockets were full of nature soon enough. Once his were filled to the brim, she started to shove things into her own tinier ones, half of the stuff falling right back out. 

“Babe, take some rocks.” Steve whispered, holding out a handful towards you. “Take them, I can’t fit any more in my pockets!” 

“You know you can just drop them, right?” You replied quietly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah I know, but she wants me to hold them!”

“She’s two! She won’t even know they’re gone.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Has she ever noticed how her pockets are always empty when we come back to the park?” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “No…” 

“There’s your answer then.” 

He took a quick gander at his surroundings, glancing down at Nora to ensure that she was paying no attention to him before flinging the rocks quickly into a nearby pile of leaves. 

Eventually, Nora gravitated towards Maisie at the play structure, even going so far as taking a few rides down the swirly slide. Meanwhile, you and Steve took a seat on a bench a little ways away, not too close, but near enough that you could keep an eye on them both. His arm quickly found its way around your shoulders to pull you against him yet again, free hand drawing lazy circles on your knee as the two of you fawned over your cute kids like proud parents. 

Around noon, you decided it was time to call it a day, as the girls had been playing for almost two hours, and it was almost time for lunch. 

“C’mon, kiddos, it’s time to go home!” You called, waving for the girls to come to you and Steve. Maisie obliged willingly, but one look at Nora and you knew she was about to throw a fit. A deep frown curved her lips, brows pinched, nose scrunched, in a way that almost reminded you of Steve’s upset face when you thought of it. “Honey, I think—” 

Steve saw it too, instantly setting at a brisk pace towards the girls. “Yep, I’m on it.” 

Neither of you got there fast enough to quell the wail that escaped Nora’s mouth, surprisingly loud for such a tiny person. 

Maisie clung to your leg, wrapping her arms around your knee with a wide eyed gaze aimed up at you. “Is she okay?”

“I think she’s just a little upset we have to go home now, baby.” You explained gently, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Remember how you used to get really sad before we left the park?” Maisie nodded knowingly. “Dad’s got her now, so everything should be okay.” 

“Nora bug, what’s wrong?” Steve cooed, kneeling down so he was eye level with his teary eyed toddler. “Wanna tell dada what’s got you so upset?” 

“Don’t wanna go!” She sniffled, lower lip trembling. 

“You don’t wanna go home? That’s okay, baby, I know you’re having fun.” He hummed, gently wiping the tears from her rosy cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Nora burrowed into Steve’s chest with a whimper, clinging to her dad with as much force as she could muster. “Tell you what, if we leave now, we can come back tomorrow and play some more.” 

“All day?” 

“All day, bug.” He confirmed, stretching out the first word to entice her even more. 

She peered up at him thoughtfully as she pondered his proposition, tracing the buttons on his jacket with her fingers. “Pomise?” 

“I promise.” That seemed to meet her standards, because she nodded, attempting to shove her way into his arms to get him to pick her up. As soon as he scooped her up, he pressed a smacking kiss to her forehead and she beamed, previous grievances long since forgotten. “All good? Yeah, you’re happy as a clam now, aren’t ya?” She shimmied around in his arms joyously, snuggling right up against him with a giggle. “Crisis averted!” 

“Dad saves the day, yet again,” You chuckled, reaching out to tickle Nora’s hand as Steve made his way over to you and Maisie. 

He aimed a wink at you, ruffling Maisie’s hair playfully. “Don’t I always?” 

“Daddy’s a hero!” She exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yes, he is,” You hummed, accepting the hand that she offered up to you. Steve was a hero, in more ways than one. He was your hero, Maisie’s hero—Hawkins’ hero (even if they didn’t know it). Maisie’s other hand held Steve’s all the way home, skipping between the two of you happily. 

-------

You and Steve had the after-park routine down pat, jumping right into it as soon as you got home. Nora’s pockets got emptied out on the porch, you threw all the girls’ dirty park clothes in the washer while Steve took them to the bathroom to get them all showered and clean, and then you usually helped finish up with one while he took care of the other. 

Only this time, he’d assured you that he had it handled, dropping a kiss to the top of your head before disappearing down the hall with both girls in his arms. 

After a while of not hearing the usual splishing, splashing, and squealing, you made your way to the bedroom to see if Steve needed help, only to catch sight of him sprawled out on top of the covers, Maisie tucked against one side of him and Nora tucked on the other, both of their heads resting on his chest. All three of them were fast asleep, looking like your perfect picture of heaven. 

Hurrying over to the dresser, you grabbed the camera that Jonathan had gifted the two of you when Maisie was first born, snapping a quick picture of your husband and his squeaky clean girls for the scrapbook you were planning on giving him for Christmas. You snuck out of the room after that, careful to shut the door gently on the way out so you wouldn’t wake any of them. 

You were alone for quite a bit, enough time for you to tidy up around the house before starting on lunch for when the girls inevitably woke up hungry. Soft music played from the radio on the windowsill as you rifled through the fridge for sandwich fixings, gathering everything and setting up camp at the counter to assemble. 

The house was strangely quiet without them running around with Steve chasing after them pretending to be King Kong—one of their favorite games to play with their dad. You'd always watch them from afar, smiling to yourself when he eventually nabbed them both in his arms and tossed them onto the couch for tickles, reveling in the good memories they were making, memories that you both hoped they would look back on fondly when they eventually grew older. 

Stuck in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice Steve creep into the kitchen until he was right behind you, arms snaking around your waist tightly.

“Whatcha makin’?” He asked softly, chin nuzzling into the crook of your neck like it was second nature—which, at this point, it was. 

“Turkey and cheese,” You hummed, stifling a giggle at the feeling of his breath puffing against your neck. “No crusts for the girls.” 

“And where are their crusts going?” 

“Into your sandwich.” 

“I assumed so,” He sighed good-naturedly, defeatedly accepting the scrap of bread you held up to his lips. “A father’s duties are never finished.” 

“Poor you.” You snickered. “Girls still asleep?” 

“Nora’s still out like a light. Maisie’s drawing in her room. Did you know Nora’s got a mean kick? She kicked the shit outta me in her sleep, we should really put her on a peewee soccer team when she's old enough. Could have a star on our hands.” 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You blurted, turning around in his arms. You knew it was an out-of-the-blue question, and that he knew you loved him, but you just wanted to tell him again, on the off chance that he’d forgotten. Steve looked momentarily confused, but pleasantly surprised, smiling so warmly that you’d be fine never seeing sunshine again so long as you had him and that smile. 

“Yeah, you do. All the time. I don’t mind hearing it over again though.” He murmured, cheeks flushing a bashful pink under your fingertips. 

“You’re an amazing husband and an even better dad,” You continued, hooking your arms around his neck. “And I love you. Like, a lot.” 

Steve’s hands splayed across your back, gliding along your skin underneath your sweater delicately as he maneuvered the two of you towards the center of the kitchen, where he had enough room to hug you fully. “Where’s all this high praise coming from?”

“I dunno…I just feel like I don’t tell you enough.” 

“Believe me, darling, you tell me plenty enough. In more ways than one, in more places than one.” 

“Oh, gross, Steve—” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, head hanging down to press his nose against the dip of your shoulder. His actions knocked his glasses askew, but he was quick to right them on his face. “I’m the luckiest guy on Earth, I swear.” 

You tilted your chin up at him, eyes alight with mirth. “How so?” 

“Well, since you’re fishing for compliments, I’ll let you in on it,” He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip gently. “I’m lucky that I met you. I’m lucky you decided to give my sorry ass a chance. I’m lucky that neither of us died trying to save the world all those times. And I’m super, doubly—no, quadruply lucky that I get to have this perfect life with you and our perfect girls.” 

Boy, did Steve Harrington have a way with his words. 

You beamed at him, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt with the effort. “You’re such a sap, Stevie.” 

“Can you just humor me for one second? I’m trying to be heartfelt and shit, and here you are laughing at me goddamnit!” 

That only brought another laugh out of you, one that you did your best to quell by tightening your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, kissing his nose, his cheeks, his chin, anywhere you could reach, pressing giggled ‘i love you’s to his pretty face. Steve spluttered out halfhearted protests as you littered kisses all over his face, ones that quickly turned into gasps of laughter at your now roaming hands. 

“Okay, stop, stop,” He managed to gasp, honey eyes shining bright with tears. “I’m gonna pee myself, babe, stop!” 

You stopped, but not before pressing a firm peck to his lips. “I love you.” You repeated, just one more time for good measure. 

His response was near immediate, spoken pressed against your cheek like he wanted his words to seep into your skin, into your bloodstream, all through your veins so you’d always have them within you. “I love you too.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips, not aimed at him or ill intended in any way, just a culmination of all the things you were feeling in this very moment, here, with Steve. Why it came out as a laugh of all things, you had no idea, but it triggered a soft chuckle from him, which bubbled into a louder one, until you had to shush him through your own giggles so as to try to not wake Nora. 

“You’re perfect, d’you know that? Absolutely freaking perfect.” Steve mumbled once he’d composed himself, eyes shining with the fondest light as he gazed down at you. The kind of light that made you feel golden, like you were his light. “And y’know what they say—perfect wife, perfect life.” 

“Isn’t it ‘happy wife, happy life’?” 

“That too.” 

“Well, consider me the happiest wife.” 

“Oh, good! I’m glad.” He kissed you before you could think of something to say, only to pull away seconds later, looking perplexed. “Is there a husband version of that saying?” 

“What?” 

“Y’know, happy husband, happy…something?” 

“Nothing rhymes with husband, Stevie.” 

“I’ll come up with one. Maybe even trademark it, then we’ll become filthy rich.” His lips twisted in thought, nose scrunching. “M’kay, husband. Something that rhymes with—” Now it was your turn to shut him up with a kiss, pressing your lips against his in such a way that the words died in his throat. 

You didn’t need money or anything of the sort to be happy as long as you had Steve, your girls, and the perfect little life you’d made for yourselves in this not-so-perfect little town. 

taglist!

@wittiestrain184 @pastel-abyss-x @liltimmyst @lilygreennn @nia-um @louweasleymalfoy @pinkdaiisies @idli-dosa @glmourtv @sunkissedsteve @alexawhatstheweathertoday @mrstealuregirl @maciiiofficial @scoopsahoykeery @oliviah-25 @eddiesquinnsworld @bubsonnobx @cityofidek

[inklessletter]

All I can say is it was enchanting (to meet you)

Read it on AO3

Eddie was exhausted from spending years touring, stage after stage, studio after studio. He wasn’t planning on abandoning his career just yet, but after eight years on the road, he needed to rest for a while. So, a couple of months ago, he moved into that tiny, residential neighborhood, with white picket fence houses, wide green lawns, families, and golden retrievers. That’s why he bought this three storey house that needed some hours and dollars to fix it up, and a backyard that used to be a beautiful garden at some point.

He wanted to fix it himself. He wanted to plant flowers, paint the walls, and turn off the goddamn phone for weeks.

Eddie was thinking about maybe getting a dog or something. Or a turtle.

Or his neighbor from the house across the street.

Eddie would be a dirty liar if he said that the first time he saw him playing with his twins in his front yard, he didn’t forget about his own name for a moment.

Two four year old girls, one of them with hair and soul made of fire, and the other one quieter, with a big, gentle smile and a head full of auburn curls. 

Two lovely tiny munchkins having a tea party with his father, sitting at the cutest teeny-tiniest Frozen themed plastic set of table and chairs Eddie had ever seen. The dad was pouring imaginary tea into their plastic cups, the curly haired one graciously gesturing with her hands while she sing-sang how much fun she was having and how delicious the tea was. 

He saw the red-haired girl pulling an annoyed face, rolling her eyes, and telling them she wanted to go skating already, that this was dumb (and Eddie loved her instantly), also gesturing. 

It was only when the dad gestured back to the red haired girl, and she huffed when Eddie realized that they were talking in sign language.

When the dad spotted Eddie, standing in his front yard, fully staring, Eddie’s face became so red so fast, that even from many feet away, he was sure that the whole family could notice. 

The dad smiled and waved. 

The kids turned to look at him. The curly haired one stood and made a deep bow, that Eddie returned.

The red haired one flipped him the bird, with a wicked smile.

Eddie faked being hurt by that and threw himself back in his garden, behind a bush.

Even from there he could hear the honest, high pitched, uncontrollable laughter of the kid.

They didn’t really interact much directly after that.

They spotted each other and waved every time, sharing smiles. Eddie didn’t want to get his hopes high because there was an ash blonde girl that was constantly coming in and out of the house, but he soon relaxed when he heard the kids (El and Max, short from Elena and Maxine, he got to learn eventually) referring to her as aunt Robin.

Robin also saluted him every time they crossed paths, and then turned quickly to the neighbor (Steve was the name) to gesture something. Always the same signs. Steve always granted her with an eyeroll and a blush.

And Eddie always hid a smile.

The smiles, the furtive looks, the rush of blood to the head anytime they run into each other became the greatest part of Eddie’s days. And even though Eddie had his fair share of action back on the road, and he was anything but timid, there was a shyness, borderline cowardice when it came to be bold enough to engage with Steve.

And then one day, it was clear that Steve was the boldest of the pair. He approached him, notepad in hand when he was fixing the garden.

“need any help?” Steve scribbled.

Eddie gifted him his brightest smile, and made space for Steve, who kneeled next to him, and started fixing the daisies. 

After an hour of stolen smiles and a thousand untold stories after every mole of Steve’s skin that Eddie needed to put in his next song, Eddie saw El and Max standing in the pavement, looking curiously at them. He patted Steve, who turned and gestured to them to get closer. The kids approached to say hi and kiss his dad, and it was Steve’s cue to leave to make dinner.

Eddie gave them both a daisy. El’s eyes were brighter than the sun. Max’ cheeks were brighter than her hair.

And Steve’s look was the fondest, earnest, sweetest Eddie had ever seen.

And after the daisies, the kids invited him to their birthday party the following Saturday.

Eddie got Max a tiny skateboard, and a plushie snowman for El.

He finally met Robin, who was the funniest woman he’d ever met, mainly because she wasn’t trying to be funny at all. Her witty comebacks, and the way he had teasing the kids, who absolutely adored her, was quite a show to see.

And Eddie didn’t know them enough to be engaging too much. Without being asked, Eddie helped Steve as much as he could, entertaining kids when needed, taking away wrapping paper scraps, or even keeping the kitchen free of sugar rushed mini humans. 

So much to do, yet both of them spent all afternoon stealing glances and smiles from each other. At some point, he saw Robin signing fast to Steve, hidden in the kitchen, and poor guy, his cheeks were flushing red.

After the cake, kids started to go, until only Robin and him were at Steve’s. Eddie wanted to help with the cleaning, but Max and El took him to a thousand family pictures infested living room to play with him. El was gentle and quiet, Max was more demanding. They were trying to teach Eddie some words in sign language, and he gave them his full attention, until eventually El fell asleep on the couch, and Max on Eddie’s lap.

Steve entered the room, and gestured Eddie to take Max upstairs, while he held El, who instantly wrapped her arms around his dad’s neck.

They left the kids on their beds (that bedroom needed some tidying up, Eddie had never seen so many toys).

When they went down to the kitchen, Robin had already left. Steve scribbled on the notepad on the counter.

“stay for dinner? leftovers it is”

Eddie huffed a laugh and nodded. They ended up eating sandwiches (and chocolate cake with a picture on top of a half eaten Elsa face) in the kitchen.

Eddie took the pen.

“ELSA’S LEFT EYE IS DELICIOUS”

Steve almost spat what was eating.

“shit i just got her braid”

“MAX IS GONNA BE SO MAD AT YOU”

“max is always mad at me”

“MAD MAX” he scribbled, and proceeded to draw a poorly braided kid skateboarding with spikes in her helmet.

At first it was accidental, but then their hands started touching, lingering, when they were passing the pen. Steve dared to give a soft, brief caress with the back of his finger.

When they intertwined their hands, pen and notepad forgotten, Eddie lifted his gaze and locked it with Steve, and all the air was sucked out of the room.

Steve cupped Eddie’s cheek, softly, a question in his pupils and his half open mouth, that Eddie wordlessly replied with a soft nod and a hand on his waist. Steve kissed him and it was the sweetest thing Eddie had ever experienced.

After that first kiss came another. And another. And another one. It was only when Eddie was between Steve’s lips and the kitchen door that Steve seemed to think twice about what was happening there. He broke the kiss with a troubled expression. He closed his eyes, sighing, and pointed at the draw of Max. 

Eddie needed no notepad, no signs, no words to understand that it was time to leave. He smiled at Steve, cupping his cheek with both hands, and resting his forehead against Steve’s.

“We can figure this out,” Eddie whispered. Steve, who was looking at Eddie’s lips while he spoke, looked at Eddie’s eyes, and smiled. Nodding.

Steve walked Eddie to the door.

He was about to leave, when he turned to Steve, and slowly, he signed “thank you, daddy.”

Steve opened his eyes, holding back a smile. Grabbed quickly the notepad, and wrote really fast.

“you must’ve picked up the ‘daddy’ sign because that’s how my kids call me. I’ll show you Steve.”

Steve left the notepad aside and started gesturing, but froze when he saw Eddie gesturing fluently at him.

“I know how to say Steve. Look, I am a musician. Heavy metal and rock. I’ve been on the road for years. I took a break because I’m losing my hearing, too. I learnt sign language a couple of years ago.”

Steve gestured back almost furiously.

“Why didn’t you say anything before? Wait, so you know what Robin and I were talking about all the time?”

Eddie laughed. “I’m glad you think I’m cute.”

They were both blushing, and biting shy smiles.

“I’m gonna go.”

“Bye, rock star.”

“Bye, daddy.”

[fairyysoup]

dad!steve who reads his kid(s) wikipedia articles as bedtime stories to bore them to sleep

[urhoneycombwitch]

okay I’m thinking about It.

your two girls are old enough now for sleepovers at Auntie Rob and Aunt Vick’s house, so one evening you load up their backpacks with all the comforts of home and kiss them goodbye. then you and Steve have a kid-free house all to yourselves for the first time in AGES.

and you’re both so giddy with freedom that Steve breaks out that bottle of fancy wine his parents had sent years ago when they heard about the wedding (weren’t invited, for a multitude of reasons) and decide to get goofy with it. intending to dance in the living room and fuck on the couch and be willdddd. but unfortunately this Thing happens when you become a parent that neither of you realize until a glass and a half later. and you both get toasted. off not even two cups of white wine.

giggling over each other while trying to cook popcorn. burning it by accident and collapsing into a laugh attack. arguing with sloppy points about who should win TV show-choosing privileges. until Steve Wins and puts on Perry Mason 😑

you end up falling asleep on the couch in each other’s arms which sounds so romantic except everything hurts from not sleeping in your regular positions on a real mattress. and Steve’s like Christ is this really what it’s like to get old?? then puts his glasses on and is like Okay. Gameplan. We have two hours until we have to pick up our kids. Let’s make another one before we leave? and ur like Jesus Harrington it’s SEVEN IN THE MORNING

[avengersfantasies]

The Captain's Daughter

Here's a little sneak peek of something I'm working on! Let me know if you wanna be added to a taglist for it :)

What to expect: angst, violence, smut, fluff

@frickin-bats @pattiemac1 @justsebstan @winterslove1917 @crist1216 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @kandis-mom @vonalyn @mavrellover91 @natashasilverfox @gojoismysensei @itsafamilyshow @casa-boiardi

This was it. You’d been caught. You were given the biggest mission of your entire career, and it was the one where you were going to die. You could only stare at the ceiling – your arms, neck, and legs having been tied down to the table you found yourself on. You had to admit that he was the most formidable target you’d been assigned to assassinate. You had excepted your fate at this point, and if he didn’t kill you with his own two hands, you’d surely die of starvation – you were almost at that point anyway. Breaking the silence, you heard footsteps approach, the echo ringing in your ears.

            “Privet, soldat,” the man’s voice spoke lowly – his face just out of view from yours with a smug smile on his lips.

            You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not from HYDRA.”

He spun a blade in his hand. “Yeah? Then who’re you here for?”

“Your mom,” you chuckled and closed your eyes. “Yeah, like I’d tell you that.”

“Very mature.” The man’s voice was flat, and he was clearly unamused. “Anything to say before you die?”

You exhaled. “Not to you.”

There was something familiar about you, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but when he finally got a good look at you, it hit him.

“What’s your name?” he asked – his tone dropping into one with more concern.

“Why do you like to ask questions you know I won’t answer?”

“Answer the question,” he ordered softly. “It may save your life.” You told him your name, but that wasn’t what was familiar about you. It was something else. “Do you know who I am?”

You sighed. “All I know is you’re my target.”

He put the blade down and sat in a chair next to the table. “Don’t feel so relieved,” he warned. “I’m only trying to figure out where I know you from.”

“You don’t,” you told him. “May as well go ahead and kill me.”

“What’re your parent’s names?” he continued with his questioning.

“Again with the questions I’m not gonna ans—”

“Is your father’s name Steve?”

Your heart skipped a beat at hearing him say your father’s name, and your breath escaped your lungs. This reaction didn’t go unnoticed by the man. A tear began to escape your eye. “How do you know that?”

“I fought in World War II with him,” the man told you. “Name’s Bucky.”