#steve harrington x self insert

[moonstruckme]

MAE! I have a request… <3 reader finds out Steve keeps Polaroids of her around different spots, like tucked in his wallet or the sun visor of his car or in his bathroom mirror

Thanks for requesting!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 728 words

“You look like you just came from the movies,” you say. 

Steve turns his head to look at you over the top of his sunglasses. You grin. “I’ll have you know, these are Ray-Bans.” 

“Are you sure? Because they’re just like the ones they gave out for Jaws 3D.” 

Even with the dark lenses, you can sense your boyfriend rolling his eyes as he turns back to the road. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t bring any.” 

Caught. “If you were a gentleman, you’d give me yours.” 

“Sorry, baby. Driver needs to see the most.” 

“Fine,” you sigh, putting a bit of theatrics into it. You reach for the sun visor. “Don’t think I won’t remember this the next time you want a blanket at my place.” 

You flip the visor down, and a little plastic square flutters into your lap. You pick it up. 

“Hey,” says Steve, “that’s totally different. If you ran your heat, neither of us would need blankets. But if you want me to start bringing my own—” 

“Stevie.” 

“Oh, it’s Stevie now,” he mutters. 

You turn to him, holding up the picture. “When did you take this?” 

Steve glances away from the road for a second. “Oh. Don’t you remember? That was at the lake last summer.” 

You do remember, now. Steve’s no master photographer—the light refracts off the water, fuzzing the picture and obscuring parts of your face—but it’s clearly you. You’re standing waist-deep in the lake, clearly trying to splash Steve while cheesing into the camera. You remember the day, but not the moment. 

Steve brings that polaroid camera everywhere. You know where it is now, stowed in the glove box right against your knees. He takes pictures with it sometimes, but always stows them away immediately so they can develop somewhere dark. You haven’t ever thought to ask about them. Haven't seen one until now. 

“Why do you have this here?” you ask. 

“I just like to keep them where I can find them,” Steve says. “Hey, put that back when you’re done, will you?” 

You blink at him. “You mean there are more?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He looks at you again, eyebrows flicking up at the open curiosity in your expression. “You wanna see some?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Alright. Put that one back.” He shifts in his seat, reaching into his back pocket. “I don’t need any getting lost.” 

You feel your lips tilt bemusedly. “You keep them in random places, but you don’t want them to get lost?” 

Steve digs out his wallet. “Nothing random about it. There’s a system, okay?” You reach for the wallet, but he holds it away. “Put it back.” 

“Okay, okay.” You grin, stowing the polaroid back where you found it before grabbing for Steve’s wallet. The worn leather parts for you easily. “Oh.” 

There are a few pictures in here. You holding flowers at the farmer’s market, you decorating cupcakes, you on your bed at home. Some have you looking into the camera, others not. In all of them you look happy. You think that’s probably how you look most of the time when Steve’s with you. 

“Steve.” Affection aches in the back of your throat. “This is so sweet.”

“It’s nothing,” he says. When you look at your boyfriend, you can see the faint tinge of a blush beneath the frames of his sunglasses. 

You gather the pictures carefully in one hand, using the other to link your fingers through his. “Why did you keep all of these?” 

Steve makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “What, I’m not allowed to want to look at you? Why would I take them just to get rid of them?” 

“I don’t know.” Your voice softens. “I just didn’t know you had all these. It’s cute.” 

Steve grins. He glances over at you once, then again, leaning over for a quick kiss. 

“Hey!” you laugh. “Eyes on the road.” 

“You’re cute,” he says.

“Yeah, you must think so.” 

“Don’t go getting a big head.” Steve uses your joined hands to tug on your arm teasingly. You let it draw you closer to him, smitten.

“Too late for that. You’re like my own personal paparazzi. You know I’m gonna have to start taking a bunch of pictures of you too, now, right?” 

“I don’t think you have to.” 

“Oh, I definitely have to.”

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

masterlist ┉ steve harrington

You’ve reached my masterlist for ( steve harrington ). Below is a complete and mostly up-to-date list of pieces I have written for ( steve harrington ) and a little list of symbols and their meanings to better help you find exactly what you’re looking for.

♡ Fluff | ♥ Filth | ☁ Angst | ☠ trigger warning needed | ★ Personal Favorite | ϟ Most Read | ☺ Work In Progress | ☻Abandoned

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[sundropflowerr]

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: dad!steve, mom!reader, husband!steve, fem!reader, no use of y/n, established marriage, domestic fluff, mentions of parenting and child behavior, playful family banter, holiday traditions, mild chaos caused by kids, Steve being the ultimate dad, tender family moments, sweet kisses, references to Home Alone, soft nostalgia, and an abundance of Christmas warmth.

★ Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, 1995, and the Harrington family is in full holiday mode. Between their six-year-old son Ethan’s endless questions, their four-year-old daughter Sadie’s knack for causing adorable mischief, and Steve’s playful dad jokes, the night is full of warmth and laughter. 3k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” - Frank Sinatra (again)

★ Dividers: thank you to @bernardsbendystraws for the adorable divider, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author’s Note: husband and dad steve harrington. goodness. anyways this should be the last Christmas and overall fic of the year (be on the look out for new year’s day) unless i get inspiration again. this is horribly messy and terribly written but nonetheless enjoy!

Snow fell steadily outside the Harrington home, muffling the usual sounds of Hawkins under a thick, sparkling blanket.

The rooftops were capped in white, the snowdrifts shimmering under the glow of streetlamps. Icicles hung from the edges of the roof, catching the twinkle of the colorful Christmas lights that Steve had painstakingly strung up a week ago, with the help of 6 year old Ethan’s enthusiastic, yet, chaotic help.

Each light blinked in perfect rhythm, painting the snow below in shifting hues of red, green, and gold. Through the fogged-up windows, the warm golden light of the Christmas tree spilled onto the lawn, offering a glimpse of the cozy world within.

Inside, the kitchen was a war zone of holiday cheer. Flour clung to nearly every surface—the countertops, the floor, and even the stool where little 4 year old Sadie stood, perched like a determined little artist. It dusted the tip of her nose and her wild curls, making her look like a miniature mad scientist as she meticulously squeezed green frosting onto a gingerbread man.

Her tongue poked out in focused concentration, her small hands gripping the frosting tube as if her life depended on it. Beside her, an array of cookies lay half-finished on the counter, buried under uneven layers of sprinkles and frosting swirls. Each one was a testament to her boundless creativity, if not her precision.

“Santa loves sprinkles,” Sadie declared with absolute certainty, her little face scrunched in concentration as she scooped a generous handful of the colorful confetti-like decorations from the nearest bowl.

The sprinkles scattered across the gingerbread man with wild abandon, tumbling off the edges and onto the counter, onto the floor, and even into the air, as if they were little bursts of festive confetti.

“Santa doesn’t want to eat cookies that are all sprinkles,” Ethan countered from across the counter, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation only a six-year-old with a perfectionist streak could muster.

He was working on a star-shaped cookie, his movements precise, deliberate. The tiny silver balls he was placing on the edges of the cookie were perfectly symmetrical, each one spaced exactly the same distance apart, as though he were an engineer and this cookie was his blueprint.

Sadie, undeterred, shot her brother a sideways glance, her lips twisting into a defiant pout. “Santa loves all cookies!” she shot back, her voice high and firm, as if daring him to challenge her further. She grabbed another handful of sprinkles, her tiny fingers clumsily but lovingly adding them to her gingerbread creation with a look of pure determination in her eyes.

Steve, who had been quietly observing the sibling exchange from his spot leaning against the fridge, let out a low chuckle, his arms crossed loosely across his chest. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched his children, clearly entertained by the growing battle of wills between his two little ones. “You know, Sadie,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “I think Ethan might have a point. That gingerbread guy looks like he just survived an explosion at a sprinkle factory.”

Sadie gasped dramatically, clutching the cookie to her chest as if Steve had just insulted her entire artistic vision. “He’s festive, Daddy!” she protested, her eyes wide with faux horror. “Santa will think he’s beautiful!”

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. Festive, got it. You win, kiddo,” he said, backing off, but his smile never faded.

You glanced up from where you were carefully transferring a fresh batch of cookies onto the cooling rack. You’d been absorbed in your task, the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling the room, but the sounds of your kids’ banter had been too amusing to ignore. You shot a smirk over at Steve, catching the tail end of his playful exchange with Sadie. “Don’t encourage them, Steve,” you said, your voice a mix of amusement and mock exasperation. “This kitchen already looks like a bomb went off in a bakery.”

Steve turned to you with that familiar, mischievous grin that always seemed to pull at your heartstrings. He pushed off the counter and sauntered over, his presence a comforting warmth that seemed to fill the space between you. As he reached you, he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his chin resting on your shoulder as he kissed the side of your neck, his lips soft against your skin.

“Oh, come on," he said, his voice a playful murmur, "It's Christmas. A little chaos is good for the soul."

The warmth of his touch and the affection in his kiss made your heart flutter, but before you could respond, you heard a chorus of groans from behind you.

"Eww, Daddy, gross!" Ethan wrinkled his nose, his six-year-old voice full of dramatic disapproval. Sadie was standing beside him, her eyes wide as she tugged at his sleeve, mimicking his disgust.

"Yeah, gross!" she added, her voice just as playful, though her face was scrunched in exaggerated annoyance. "Get a room!"

Steve pulled back slightly, his smile widening as he laughed. "Hey, you two can't appreciate true love yet," he teased, raising an eyebrow at them. "When you're older, you'll understand."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you met Ethan’s wide-eyed gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and genuine concern.

"They're right, Daddy," you teased. "We'll have to save the romance for later."

"Yeah, later!" Sadie agreed with a dramatic sigh, making a show of fanning herself with one hand, as if the display of affection had been too much to handle.

Steve gave a mock sigh of defeat, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer for another kiss, this time to the top of your head. "Guess we'll have to keep it PG for a little while, huh?" he murmured with a playful grin, his voice soft but full of affection.

As you hold onto his arms that wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace grounding you, you couldn't help but smile at the chaotic love that surrounded you. The kids' teasing, the laughter, and the warmth in the room-all of it felt like exactly what you needed. It was chaotic, but it was perfect.

The kitchen was, indeed, a disaster—sprinkles everywhere, frosting streaked across the table, and flour footprints leading from the counter to the floor. And yet, in the midst of the mess, there was something so perfectly Christmas about it all. You couldn’t help but shake your head fondly at the sight of your two children, Sadie with her chaotic artistic flair and Ethan with his precision, both creating their own little pieces of holiday magic in their own ways.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart swelling with a mix of warmth and contentment. This was your life now—messy, loud, and filled to the brim with joy. The kind of joy that came from every moment spent together, it was imperfect, but it was yours. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

“I suppose a little chaos is good for the soul,” you muttered, leaning into Steve’s embrace, your back resting against his torso. “But we’ll have to clean it all up before Santa comes.”

Steve’s grin widened as he kissed the top of your head. “Deal,” he said softly, his voice warm, full of affection. “But for now, let’s just enjoy it.”

And in that moment, amidst the mess, the laughter of your kids, and the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, you truly did. You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

By the time the last batch of cookies had cooled, the kids had moved on to decorating with gusto. Sadie was a whirlwind of frosting and sprinkles, her hands sticky but her smile wide. Ethan’s creations, on the other hand, could have been featured in a magazine—each one neat, symmetrical, and perfect in its own way.

“Do you think Santa will like mine better?” Ethan asked as he placed a gingerbread snowman carefully on the plate.

“Santa loves everything,” you replied diplomatically, shooting Steve a look that warned him not to stir the pot.

“He’ll love Sadie’s too,” Steve added, crouching down to examine one of her creations. “Especially this one. It’s, uh… very colorful.”

Sadie beamed, clearly taking this as the highest of compliments.

Once the cookies were arranged on a plate, along with a glass of milk, the four of you moved into the living room. Ethan darted ahead to claim the best spot on the couch, while Sadie grabbed her stuffed reindeer and curled up in Steve’s lap.

Steve held up a VHS tape like it was a trophy. “Tonight’s pick: Home Alone.”

Ethan pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!”

Sadie giggled, clutching her reindeer tightly. “Kevin’s so funny!”

You settled onto the couch next to Ethan, draping a blanket over your lap as Steve popped the tape into the VCR. The kids quieted as the familiar opening music began, their eyes glued to the screen.

The living room was warm and cozy, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The Christmas tree lights cast colorful patterns across the walls, and the faint scent of pine mingled with the sugary sweetness lingering from the kitchen.

As Kevin McCallister navigated his hijinks, Sadie giggled uncontrollably at the Wet Bandits’ antics, her laughter ringing through the room. Ethan, meanwhile, provided a running commentary.

“They’re so silly,” he said, shaking his head as Harry slipped on the icy stairs for the third time. “Why don’t they just give up?”

“That’s not the point, buddy,” Steve replied, chuckling. “They’re supposed to be silly. It’s funny.”

“Kevin’s really brave,” Sadie whispered, clutching her reindeer as Kevin faced off against the burglars. “He’s all alone, but he’s not scared.”

You smoothed her curls with a gentle hand. “He’s smart too, just like you.”

Steve caught your eye, his expression softening as he smiled at you. These moments—the quiet, ordinary ones—were the ones he cherished most.

By the time the credits rolled, Sadie was fast asleep in Steve’s lap, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his sweater. Ethan was valiantly trying to stay awake, but his head kept nodding forward, his stubbornness no match for his exhaustion.

Steve glanced down at Sadie, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Looks like it’s bedtime for these two.”

You nodded, sharing a glance with Steve as you both made your way toward the kids. Without a word, you reached down to gently lift Ethan into your arms. He squirmed slightly, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t protest as you settled him against your chest, his head resting on your shoulder. Steve, in turn, scooped up Sadie with ease, her small body curling instinctively into his hold. She mumbled something incoherent, her voice muffled by sleep, but didn’t wake as he cradled her against him.

The two of you made your way upstairs in comfortable silence, each step echoing softly through the house. It felt like a peaceful rhythm, this simple act of carrying your kids to bed, a reminder of how much you both cherished these little moments.

You reached Ethan’s room first, carefully lowering him into his bed. He groggily shifted under the covers, his sleepy eyes flicking up at you with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. You helped him into his pajamas, smoothing out the fabric with a practiced hand before tucking him under the covers.

“Do you think Santa’s gonna like the cookies?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep but still filled with that unmistakable childlike wonder.

Steve, who had followed you into the room, chuckled softly as he leaned against the doorframe. “He’s gonna love them. Especially that one with all the sprinkles,” he said, grinning.

Ethan let out a small giggle, his eyes already fluttering closed. “Good,” he mumbled, his face relaxing into sleep as he drifted off, his soft breathing the only sound in the room.

Meanwhile, Steve took Sadie to her room. As soon as he placed her on her bed, she curled up into her blankets, her little reindeer toy tucked under her arm. She sighed contentedly as he adjusted the covers around her, kissing her forehead gently.

“Goodnight, lovebug,” you whispered from the doorway, watching the tender moment unfold.

Sadie mumbled something sleepy and incoherent, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. “Goodnight,” she whispered back, her voice already soft with sleep.

As you and Steve stood in the doorway for a moment, watching your kids drift off into peaceful slumber, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over you both. The house was still, the Christmas lights outside casting a gentle glow through the windows. Everything felt right. You turned to Steve, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “They’re going to be so excited when they wake up tomorrow.”

He nodded, his arm naturally finding its way around your waist as you both quietly left the room. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ll be up before the sun is,” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and fondness.

You smiled up at him, leaning into his side as the two of you headed back downstairs, the soft hum of Christmas music filling the air around you. It was a quiet night, just the two of you, in the calm after the chaos. And as the two of you settled back into the warmth of the living room, the love and laughter of the night still lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. Christmas was here, and your family was exactly where they belonged.

“Think they’ll notice if we eat one?” Steve asked, breaking off a corner of a gingerbread man with a playful grin. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as if savoring the moment.

You looked at him over the top of the cookie jar, raising an eyebrow. “Not unless you want to explain why there are bites taken out of the cookies they spent hours decorating.”

Steve shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached for another cookie. “Eh, they’ll never know. Besides, Santa can always come up with his own cookies.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away as you grabbed one for yourself. “I’m pretty sure Santa’s going to have a sugar high with how much we’ve put out for him.”

He laughed, popping a piece of cookie into his mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I mean, we’ve done all the hard work, haven’t we?”

You took a bite of your own cookie, sighing in contentment. “True. These are way better than store-bought.”

Steve’s grin widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I think we’ve officially earned it. We’re doing all the Christmas magic around here.”

You laughed as Steve pulled you into his arms as the fire crackled softly behind you. The glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warmth, and Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played faintly in the background.

As you leaned against him, the quiet of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

"This is it, you know," Steve said suddenly, his voice low and serious. His eyes were soft, distant in a way, as if he were taking in the entire scene-the glowing lights, the quiet of the house, the warmth of it all.

You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What is?" you asked, curious but not entirely sure what he meant.

"This," he said again, his gaze sweeping across the room, lingering for a moment on the kids' cookies on the counter, the half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, the soft Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the space. Then, his gaze landed back on you, his expression tender.

“The kids, the house, you. Everything I ever wanted. It's right here."

The way he said it-so genuine, so full of admiration-caught you off guard. Your chest tightened with emotion, and for a moment, you couldn't find the right words.

You reached up instinctively, cupping his cheek, feeling the stubble there beneath your palm, the warmth of him as you held him close.

"You deserve it, Steve," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "Every bit of it." You didn't need to elaborate. You knew what he meant.

Steve's gaze softened even further, a look in his eyes you could only describe as reverent.

Slowly, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the feeling of being with you in this quiet, perfect moment. When he pulled back, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something deeper, something that made your heart swell.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this. For us." His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you gently against him. He didn't rush it, just held you there, his lips grazing against yours in a kiss that was soft, slow-like he was trying to memorize the feeling of being close to you.

You smiled, your chest tight with affection. "I love you.”

There was a quiet stillness between you both, a peacefulness that wrapped around you like the softest blanket. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of Christmas music drifting from the speakers and the distant sound of snow falling outside. But in this moment, nothing else mattered.

You were together. The life you had, the love you shared-it was everything, and it was yours.

Steve's hand gently brushed the back of your neck, and he kissed you again, his lips soft, lingering. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could-more than any ‘thank you' or 'I love you' could ever express.

You had everything. And you wouldn't change a single thing.

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day and a happy holidays!!

[magical-reid]

Braids and Confessions

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1K

Prompt: 29 “I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want.”

Summary: After a dangerous encounter, Steve offers to help you with your hair, leading to an unexpected moment of vulnerability and closeness between the two of you. As he braids your hair, Steve confesses his deeper feelings, and the two of you share a life-changing kiss.

The rain outside pelted softly against the windows, the rhythmic drumming muted by the thick tension in the room. Steve leaned against the edge of his kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching you from a distance. You were seated on his couch, legs curled up beneath you, trying—and failing—to tie your hair back into something remotely manageable.

“I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this,” Steve finally said, his voice edging on exasperation but laced with concern.

Your arms ached from the earlier scuffle with whatever the hell that thing was. A vine had lashed out, wrapping tightly around your wrist, and though Steve had managed to cut you free, the bruising was vivid and unforgiving.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your shaky hands betrayed you as another hair tie snapped under the pressure.

Steve sighed and pushed off the counter, walking toward you. His sneakers scuffed against the hardwood floor before he stopped, towering just slightly over where you sat.

“You’re not fine. You’re stubborn.” His tone softened as he knelt down in front of you, resting his arms on his knees. “Let me help.”

You snorted, dropping your hands to your lap. “What, you’re gonna fight a Demogorgon and be my hairstylist now?”

Steve flushed but didn’t back down. “I mean… yeah. If that’s what you need.” He cleared his throat, his eyes darting away before he added in a quieter voice, “I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, surprised by the offer. It wasn’t like Steve to be so gentle, not when his typical armor consisted of sarcasm and bad jokes.

“You… know how to braid?” you asked, suspicious.

“I have a sister,” he said with a shrug, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Used to braid her hair all the time when we were kids. Pretty sure I still got the muscle memory.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your heart stuttering at the thought of Steve’s hands in your hair. But the truth was, you needed the help, and the look on his face—earnest and patient—was impossible to resist.

“Alright,” you relented, your voice soft. “But if you pull too hard, I’m throwing a pillow at you.”

Steve grinned, his whole face lighting up with the kind of boyish charm that made your stomach flip. “Deal.”

He climbed onto the couch behind you, settling in close enough that you could feel the warmth of his knees brushing your back. You handed him the brush, and he gently began to detangle the mess, working from the ends up.

“You’re quiet,” he said after a few moments. “You good?”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured, though the truth was far more complicated. Steve’s fingers were deft but careful, the occasional accidental brush against your neck sending shivers down your spine. The closeness was almost too much, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

As he worked, the room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft scrape of the brush and the hum of the rain outside. When Steve finally started braiding, his voice broke the quiet.

“You scared me today, you know.”

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his tone. “Steve—”

“No, I mean it.” He paused for a beat, his hands stilling for a moment in your hair. “When I saw that thing grab you… I thought—” He exhaled shakily. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

The weight of his words hung heavy between you, and you struggled to find a response. “I’m okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, but what if you hadn’t been?” His fingers resumed their work, but his voice remained tense. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Your chest tightened, and you turned slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. “Steve—”

His hands dropped from your hair, the braid unfinished, as his brown eyes met yours. “I’m serious. I—” He shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot, but I care about you. A lot. More than a friend should.”

Your breath hitched. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer now, almost shy. “I have for a while. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

A warmth spread through your chest, so intense it almost hurt. “Steve, I—” You swallowed hard, your next words trembling but sure. “I feel the same way.”

His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face, genuine and breathtaking.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

“Yeah,” you said, unable to stop the smile spreading across your own lips.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something electric and undeniable. Then, with an awkward laugh, Steve cleared his throat. “So… should I finish the braid or—”

You laughed, reaching up to take his hand. “Forget the braid, Harrington.”

Before he could respond, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. It was soft and tentative at first, but as he kissed you back, his hands cradling your face like you were something precious, it deepened into something that felt like home.

When you finally pulled back, Steve rested his forehead against yours, a grin playing at his lips. “Best hairstyling gig I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “Guess you’re hired full-time, then.”

“Deal,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection. And as he pulled you into another kiss, the rain outside continued to fall, but inside, everything felt warm and bright.

[alexisaflop]

Wait on your Song - Steve Harrington x Henderson! reader

Chapter 11: Trick or Treat, Freak!

Nancy dumps Steve and you give him a ride home.

It's Halloween morning and too early for your mother's excitement about Dustin's costume. "Look at these pearls," he says and makes some weird noise at the back of his throat. You pull a face, "oh no, don't do that." But your mother eats it up; snaps several photos of "Dusty-bun."

At high school, nobody is dressed up. This morning, Nancy is actually in homeroom, and tells you all about Barb and the private investigator and the fact that her parents are having to sell the house. You decide against explaining that Steve had come around last night and told you all of it already. Instead, you let the familiar guilt settle on you, now with the added layer of having been helping Steve last night when it really should have been her. The taste of bile rises in the back of your mouth.

The rest of the day is spent pretty much in silence. You have a shared study period later in the day and the three of you sit there 'working'. You know you've not answered a single question. Steve looks like he's thinking, but whenever you glance over at him, he is doodling in the margins. Glancing over at Nancy, you smile slightly. Tight-lipped a shadow of recognition flickers across her face. She gets the message that you're in this together - even if you're not sure what /this/ is. Her pencil snaps against the page. Wordlessly she stood up and walked away to sharpen it. "Thanks for your help last night, I wouldn't have got my application in without you." Steve can't quite look at you, his eyes shifting from your hands to your face and back down to his margin drawing that appears to be taking over his entire page. You get the feeling that he doesn't know how to act around you by yourself. Last night, he had constantly fidgeted and hadn't been able to decide how close to sit next to you. Now that Nancy was in the same room, you realise that there's a hint of guilt on his face. "You haven't told her you saw me yesterday, then?" you smirk, already knowing the answer. "I don't want to upset her, she might feel bad about not being the one to help me." Looking over at Nancy, you get the impression Steve is projecting very hopefully onto her. She has a far off look in her eyes and sincerely doubt she would remember what it was Steve asked her for help with yesterday. "She's taking a while, isn't she?" you murmur. Steve's eyes flicker between you and her before going to check on her.

They go into a study room and close the door and you fail miserably at pretending to not be watching. Things start to get heated; Nancy squares her shoulders and her eyes squint at Steve. He's trying and failing to keep her calm. Slowly, you start packing away your things, then Nancy's too. You get the feeling she'll want to leave quickly. Steve draws the blinds, obscuring your view into the room. For a second, his eyes meet yours. His expression is hard and set. But, looking at his eyes, you can see that he is fighting to stay afloat. You can see the guilt that he feels for Barb just as clearly as you can see it in Nancy's eyes.

They aren't in the room for long and when they leave, Nancy is back to not speaking. Wordlessly, you pass her her stuff but shoot Steve an inquisitory glance. His defeated face reminds you that he is just as stuck in this as you are. How do you help someone get through something that legally never happened? Nancy is shooting daggers at Steve so you leave the library without him. In effort to get her to talk, you place a protective arm around her shoulders. "He wants us to play pretend as stupid teenagers tonight." "He doesn't need to pretend; he /is/ a stupid teenager," you tease, hoping for at least a smile. Nothing. "Well you have to come, because me and Jonathan already agreed to go." "I just don't care. It's all bullshit," she says sullenly. "Okay," you're not sure what to say, but you want to get her to talk. Properly. "It's like nobody even cares about what happened to Barb." Just like that, the notion of wanting to help her disappears. You were the one who had watched Barb die. You were the one who had talked Nancy out of her guilt and forgiven her straight away for any wrong-doing she felt like she had committed that night. "Seriously?" your voice is just louder than a whisper but it trembles with rage, "you want to talk to me about caring? Where the hell have you been for the past year? You are supposed to be my friend. You've disappeared to only caring about the person you lost and not the ones who actually care about you. Barb was my friend too." "Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's different for you, you didn't kill her." "Have you considered it's just the same for me? That I don't hear her screaming every night? Of course you don't because you never talk about it. You're always with Steve! Which is exactly how you were when Barb was still alive. And I've accepted that your boyfriend is more important, really I have. But it sucks for him that you treat him like crap just as much as you did everyone else." She stares at you. "Why didn't you tell me?" her eyes are watering. Crap. "Because of this. I didn't want to make it worse." "Well, it's not like it's got better is it?" her eyes are still wet but her anger is back. The bell rings and you have science class. Neither of you know what to say, so you just walk away.

The rest of the day was a blur. You feel shitty for not helping Nancy more but the rest of you is angry that she can't see that everyone else is going through the same crap as her. The same guilt. The same grief. Your head is spinning as you walk to your car. And that's when you see Billy. Shit. "You'd look prettier if you were smiling." You flip him off and keep walking. Your heart rate raises as you can still feel his eyes on you. But a ginger girl coming from the direction of the middle school catches your eye. She's smiling at you. MadMax. It had to be her. Dustin hadn't shut up about how cool it is that she skates. And she smiled at you when she saw who you were swearing at. You smile back at her before collapsing into your car and going home.

At home you collapse into the sofa, close your eyes and press your hands against your forehead. "Why didn't you tell me?" Nancy's voice echoes in your head. What if you had told her sooner about the nightmares and the guilt? Would she have listened? Or would it just have made her feel more guilty for ditching you and Barb that night?

You sit like that for about ten minutes alone before the Dustin hurricane came home. You're glad for the distraction from the spiralling questions. "Max called me presumptuous today," he said proudly, chucking his bag by the door. You shake your head, "you do know what presumptuous means right?" He doesn't say anything. "What did you say before she said that?" "I was inviting her to come trick-or-treating tonight with the Party." "And you just expected her to come?" "Yeah, we know where to get all the full size candy bars." "Okay, so do you think she'll go with you?" He shrugged, "Lucas doesn't think so." It's when he's walking away to his room that he mentions the Camaro that almost ran the Party over on the way home. "I am going to kill Billy," you promise him, before heading to your room to find an outfit for Tina's stupid party.

You park a few blocks away from Tina's and walk around. If you hadn't promised Jonathan you would be here, you would be at home with a scary movie right now. But the distraction that is drunk teenagers is almost as entertaining. You we wear red trousers and a loose fitting white shirt with a bandana tied through your hair: a very low effort pirate. You didn't expect to find rum here, but then again you had driven so that's probably for the best. Billy's name is echoing around outside. Not that guy again you complain to yourself. Somehow, you manage to walk through the doors right behind them and end up following them across the party. All the way to Steve and Nancy. She gives you a half-hearted glare. Like you brought these idiots here.

"We've got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington," Tommy proclaims. Steve is dressed as Tom Cruise, although he's leaning pretty heavily on the sunglasses to make it work. His jaw is set as he stares back at Billy. Not on the offensive, but getting prepared to defend. Nancy stalks off. Which kind of proves your point from earlier that she just does not care about anyone else. Billy steps towards Steve, and you prepare to step in between them. "I was told not to expect to see you here, Y/N," Billy turns to you. He's learnt your name from somewhere. You hate the way he says it, like now he knows your name, he can get to you. You lift your chin to raise your gaze in line with his, "For someone who tried to run over my brother this afternoon you're awfully friendly." He almost looks surprised, but not as much as you do when he walks away. "He drinks like he drives," you say, turning to Steve, "like an obnoxious idiot. You good, Harrington?" His face is still clenched together. As though it might all fall apart if he dared to relax. "Yeah. Fine." "We should probably find Nancy." "Yeah, because she'll be so happy to see you," he eyes you up wearily, "why did you even come Henderson?" "Because after last time, I'm not leaving any of my friends alone at these stupid parties." His face softens minutely, "I have to take her side." "I know."

You follow him through the crowd and find Nancy near the kitchen turned bar. "Pure fuel! Pure fuel!" exclaims a kid who you were really hoping was dressed as Dionysus next to the punch bowl. You grinned and Steve couldn't help but also look amused. Nancy on the other hand looked incredibly serious as she went in for her drink. "Woah, woah, woah, Nance. Take it easy, alright?" "We're being stupid teenagers for the night, wasn't that the deal?" You couldn't help but smile. Nancy had never really got drunk before and this was certainly going to be entertaining. But Steve just looked concerned. You felt bad for him that he'd be the one who probably had to look after her when this all went wrong. You survey the punch ingredients and make yourself a red solo cup of juice; there's a very strong chance you'll be driving an incredibly drunk Nancy home. Especially seeing as Jonathan is nowhere to be seen. That's when Steve and Nancy start dancing and you groan internally. Jonathan was supposed to suffer through this nightmare with you. You find a space by the wall not too far from the two of them.

You're not sure how long after that Jonathan turns up. You're surprised to see him actually talking to someone. "I thought you ditched me," you complain once he joins you. "No I couldn't miss … this" he gestures around to the general antics of drunken teenagers. "Agreed, us drivers can all have one drink right?" Nancy joins you to the alcohol despite Steve's protestations. You cant help but agree, "Nancy at least have some water first or something." "Screw you," she glares at you with a hate so strong that you take a step back. Steve watches with interest. He doesn't look sad, just resigned to his fate. And apologetic. Meanwhile, Nancy just refills her cup. "Nancy come on put it down," Steve has his hands on her forearm. "Let go," she insists. Steve does, and surprised, Nancy tips the punch onto herself. "What the hell," she hisses as everyone else oohs and aahs. "Nothing to see here guys," you glare as you follow Nancy and Steve away. You're not sure where Jonathan went, and you end up standing outside Tina's bathroom alone. You don't hear all of their conversation, but its enough. It starts with Steve apologising and offering to take her home. "No you wanted this," Nancy insists. "No I didn't, I told you to stop drinking," Steve's voice is soft but firm. You vaguely wonder how many drunk teenagers he's dealt with over time. "Bullshit," Nancy says confidently. "It's not bullshit." "Bullshit." It's silent for a moment. To be fair you wouldn't know what to say either. "You, you're bullshit," Nancy sounds oddly calm for someone saying something seemingly so angry, so final. "What?" Steve's voice is still soft, but you can feel the defensiveness creeping back in. "Pretending everything's okay… like we didn't kill Barb," her voice breaks a little, like she's begging for someone, anyone, to understand.

Your teeth clench around nothing as the guilt from earlier in the day returns. You couldn't lie that in your darker months of the past year you hadn't blamed Nancy and Steve for Barb's fate. But you knew that really, it's not their fault. Like Steve was trying to tell Nancy, you'd all just been stupid teenagers. If Barb hadn't hurt herself, the monster would have just taken on the next bleeding person in Hawkins. But you suppose Nancy hasn't come to that conclusion. Which is fine, but you really hate she'd stop blaming Steve for it too. It's not like he'd forced you and Barb to come to the party that night. What she says next you don't hear all of because Jonathan appears beside you. But you hear Steve whisper "like we're in love?" "Bullshit." "You don't love me?" His voice wavers; all the fighting, all the uncertainty between the two of them you had been seeing all year seemed to suddenly be revealed to him. "Its bullshit," Nancy is unphased in her drunken state. Suddenly the door opens and Steve leaves. He doesn't seem surprised that you're there.

"Jonathan, make sure she gets home okay. I'll take Harrington." Jonathan nods. You knew how much he and Nancy cared about each other - enough to trust him to get her home. Hell, he'd gotten you home enough times before. After listening to the low-voiced break-up of Steve and Nancy, the booming party downstairs is deafening. Steve is easy to sport and easier to catch up with in his dazed state. "Steve, wait up," you call. He turns back to look at you. Shattered. That's how you'd describe him. Exhausted and smashed into pieces. "Leave me alone, Y/N." "No," you say simply. He doesn't say anything else as you walk with him, but he also doesn't send you away. You've reached the front door when Billy reappears. "Y/N, leaving so soon? And with your best friend's boyfriend? Something stinks," he looks at you and it rockets fear down your spine. "Yeah, I'm leaving, so let us through," you glare. "Not gonna help out your girlfriend Steve?" he says tauntingly. Steve straightens besides you, "they're not mine," he says with gritted teeth. "So you're open to offers?" smirked Billy to you. "Not from you, now move," you shove past him and drag Steve with you. You reach the front of Tina's drive, "How did you get here Steve?" "Lift from some guys on the basketball team," he turns to you as he realises his issue. Tina's house is a good half an hour walk from here, and it's pretty cold. "You don't have to help me, you only agreed to be my friend for Nancy's sake, and …" his voice breaks off but he's made his point. You shake your head, "Come on, let's get you home."

You lead him away from the noise of the party to your car. "Why do you park so far away?" "So that my car can get thrown up on? I'm good thanks." He smiles slightly and sinks into your passenger seat. You start up the car and turn on the heating before turning on the radio. Hang On To Yourself fills the car. "Of course it's Bowie." "See we really are friends," you say as you pull away. "You've been here for me more than Nancy," he says as you go back past the party. You spot Jonathan getting Nancy into his car, you give him a discrete nod. You don't think Steve notices. "I could say the same of you," you smile and glance at him. He's collapsed all the way back into his seat and is staring up to the night sky. "I thought it was temporary. I knew Nance needed time, to get over Barb, to feel better. But, I guess that wasn't the problem," he sighs. "You must have known it wasn't going well," you think of all the bickering, the fact they never went to each other for anything. "Thanks, you're really making me feel better," he laughed harshly. "Sorry." "It's fine, you had to get over her too." You aren't sure he had meant Barb until he continues, "I can't believe you bounced back so quickly from watching her die, to helping Jonathan fight me," he chuckles slightly, "I think you handled it so well Nance forgot you were in the same place she was."

You don't know what to say. The two of you sat in silence for a while, with just Bowie's voice between you: "Smiling, and waving, and looking so fine. I don't think you knew you were in the song." The silence isn't awkward, over the last year of seeing Steve at work, of communicating through eyebrow raises over Nancy's head something had changed between the two of you. It was like you'd become allies in surviving high school - something your middle school self would never understand. The song ends as you pull into the Harrington's driveway. The house is weirdly dark for 10.30 on a Saturday. "Your parents out for Halloween? Back home, no-one over the age of 11 is going out to celebrate." The corners of his mouth lift slightly, "no, business trip. If it's a long way, my mom goes with my dad." "Surely if it's a long way, that's more of a reason to stay with you," you say without thinking. "It's fine," he shrugged and it was pretty clear he was barely holding it together. "Okay," you say simply. You might be more comfortable around Steve, but there are lots of parts of him that you still don't understand. "I just, Nance," he glanced at you, almost for permission, "I can't believe after a year it's just over. I don't understand - I was there for her through everything. And now, she's just, she's just gone?" "I know the feeling," you sigh; thinking of Jonathan. At this point he's all she has left and neither of them have been exactly communicative about their issues. "I can't believe she ditched her best friend as well as her boyfriend in one day. I know I haven't been the perfect boyfriend but- but you? You've been here everyday," his voice raises, and he's beginning to sound more angry than hurt.

"Steve. Steve," you take his forearm gently, "hey, you need to calm down okay? You might be able to fix this with her you know? If you wanted." He groans, "I don't know what I want, Y/N." "And that's why," you reached across him, into the glove compartment. "What are you doing?" his eyes widen slightly. You pull out a pen, "you're going to go inside and go to sleep. But, just in case you realise being alone all the time sucks: here's my phone number." "You know, before tonight I really thought you secretly hated me." "Maybe I do, maybe it brings me great joy to watch you suffer." He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Harrington. My mom and Dustin both answer that phone, so emergencies only. Okay, no prank calls?" "Thanks, Y/N. I owe you." "You owe me twice." "I guess I do. See you around." You wait until he's safely inside until you start heading home. You turn up the radio and allow yourself to relax. You think of Nancy, and can't help but wonder if she thinks you're just /bullshit/ too. After years of friendship and suddenly your allegiance has changed to Steve Harrington? "It ain't easy, it ain't easy, it ain't easy to get to heaven when you're going down," Bowie tells you as you drive. "I must be going down if we're friends now," you mumble to yourself.

A/N Sorry this took fucking forever i'm really busy now that the sun is out and i can go out and do stuff i wouldnt say they're friends yet. they no longer enemies tho, they allies

[hawkinsbnbg]

Imagine you’re Corroded Coffin’s hardcore fan who owns a bar and you keep seeing this one guy (whose name is Steve) with a different member every weekend night.

Problem is you’re 99% sure they don't know they’re all dating this Steve guy at the same time. Which is awful and cruel of him.

Although Steve seems nice enough (always leaves big tips and says thank you to your staff), you know from experience that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Your long line of “nice” exes can prove that.

And despite everything, you have to admit Steve is unfairly attractive. No wonder these guys are so whipped for him that they had collectively fallen for his deception.

So as Corroded Coffin’s loyal fan, you seethe and fume on their behalf. Never outrightly rude to Steve because duh, you don't want to act like an ass when Eddie Munson is sitting there, utterly besotted to Steve who has been stringing him and his bandmates all along this whole time.

So you plan, scheme, drop a note here and there each night they come to the bar with Steve, hinting about the truth, telling them to keep an eye out, that they’re being played like a fine violin in Steve’s hands.

It’s the best you can help without making a scene and probably causing unnecessary scandals.

Frankly, their love lives aren't your business, but your conscience doesn't allow you to sit this one out.

Except their reactions aren’t what you expected. You can see Eddie or Jeff may let it slide, but when even Gareth and Doug just look amused, you realize maybe you had had it all wrong.

The next Saturday night, you watch Doug and Gareth hang out with Steve, both give Steve heart eyes, and both jokingly fight over Steve who looks beet red.

Then Sunday night rolls by and you see the same thing happen with Jeff and Eddie.

The only difference is that they both steal kisses from Steve when they think no one looks. And just like the previous night, Steve glows under their flirting and unfettered affection.

For the first time since you started observing Steve from afar, you finally notice how gone he is for his boyfriends. How he’s just as bad when it comes to them. Completely smitten and infatuated.

Shaking your head, you go back to your job, happy that your favorite metalheads have found their person and wondering when it will be your turn.

Maybe one day soon.

[vilentia]

Unmasked

Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: A tender and intimate relationship unfolds, allowing Steve to discover and embrace his true self.

****

The quiet aftermath of the Upside Down brought a stillness to Hawkins that was almost eerie. For you, it was a return to normalcy, but for Steve Harrington, it was the beginning of a new journey.

In your small, cozy living room, with its mismatched cushions and soft, warm lighting, Steve found a haven. Here, he was no longer King Steve, the guy with the nail-bat, or the default babysitter. Here, he was just Steve, and it was both terrifying and liberating.

"I've always had to be something more," he confessed one evening, as you both lay sprawled on the couch. Your head rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "King Steve at school, the protector for the kids... It's like I never got the chance to just be me."

His words hung in the air, mingled with the faint scent of the jasmine candle burning on the coffee table. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, which always seemed to carry the weight of his unspoken thoughts.

"You don't have to be anything but yourself here, Steve," you said softly, your hand finding his. "With me, you're safe."

It was a slow process, watching the layers peel back from a persona that had been carefully constructed over years. But in these quiet moments, with shared smiles and gentle touches, Steve began to let go.

Rain tapped gently against the window on a chilly evening, the kind of rain that whispered secrets and promised new beginnings. Wrapped in a blanket, you both watched the droplets race down the glass, an unspoken comfort in the silence between you.

"I was always scared to show weakness," Steve admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "To be vulnerable meant to be open to hurt, and I couldn't afford that. Not with everything that was going on."

Your fingers traced patterns on the back of his hand, a silent reassurance. "It's okay to let those walls down, Steve. Here, with me, you don't have to be strong all the time."

As he turned to you, his eyes were an open book of fears and dreams, of battles fought and scars borne. But there was also hope, a flicker that grew stronger in your presence.

"With you, I feel like I'm just starting to understand who I am. Not some role I have to play, but me. Steve Harrington, without all the extra baggage," he said, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was tender and filled with understanding. It was a reassurance, a promise, a moment of shared vulnerability.

In the days that followed, your relationship blossomed into something beautiful and real. Movie nights turned into impromptu dance sessions in your living room, his laughter filling your space with a joy that was infectious. Cooking together became a regular activity, filled with playful flour fights and stolen kisses.

One evening, as you both lay curled up under a blanket, watching the embers of the fire dance in the fireplace, Steve's voice broke the comfortable silence. "I love you," he said, his voice steady and sure. "Not for the heroics or the adventures, but for this. For the quiet moments, for the comfort, for the realness."

Your heart swelled with an emotion so profound it was almost overwhelming. "I love you too, Steve. For who you are, for who you've been, and for who you're yet to become."

In your embrace, he found a peace he'd never known. With you, he was unmasked, vulnerable, and utterly content. And as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other's arms, the world outside didn't seem so daunting anymore. Together, you were ready to face whatever came next, unmasked and unafraid, in love and in life.

[greenandsorrow]

You're my best friend

✨Eddie in love with his best friend (fem!reader)✨

feelings of inadequacy, fluff, comfort, light angst

"Damsel I'm back!!!! It's so excruciating going grocery shopping..."

It's the melodramatic entrance and the small pout at the end of his sentence as he kicks off his stinky shoes that makes you chuckle.

"Glad you survived Edds."

You two used to talk at school and were on good terms. After he failed to graduate twice you became classmates and got so so so so so close. The truth is that he always had a crush on you, but regardless of that your friendship is real and runs deep.

When you were looking for a place to stay after deciding you needed some time away from your family, Eddie told you that you can stay with him -his uncle is barely at home anyway- as long as you do the cooking. Least to say, you accepted the offer.

You listen to him playing his electric guitar, he keeps you company while you study, you have laughed and cried together. He doesn't mind you're not a complete freak like him, but more of a black sheep at school. There have been rumours you're dating and at first you liked being dramatic about it. Unfortunately for him, you're actually dating someone now so the "being dramatic about it" has stopped. Eddie doesn't enjoy your romantic interest taking your attention away from him, but he respects you too much to say anything that could even remotely throw you off.

You are roommates, you have your rules, your movie nights... and he's a gift from God you can't lie. He has learnt and accepted your every little quirk and peculiarity.

Sometimes you make hot chocolate and play Scrabble with Dustin and him. Sometimes you play with his hair while he's stoned. He has significantly cut down on smoking all this shit since you moved in.

Eddie isn't the jealous type, but the pit at his stomach envious type, the delicate disappointment that he can't have you the way others do type.

You'll be his first and last kiss.

Eddie drives you everywhere with his trashy car. He's the best company you could have ever asked for. You love your friend. You wish more people could see him the way you do.

The night is uneventful with you falling asleep on the couch as per usual. In the morning, Eddie wakes you up by ruffling your already messy hair and singing "you are my sunshine" in an ear bleeding frequency.

You're too sleepy to care and just stretch, your lack of a bra not going unnoticed. An awkward giggle is all he lets out, but internally he's so grateful for his hair covering his ears. They're burning too intensely for this time of day.

You get ready for school. It's all routine.

After school, you have your shift at the same place Mrs. Wheeler works in. At least it's quiet.

At this point you feel too bored for your own good, not to mention how your date canceled on you a third time in a row. You return home so done with life. Your hero, Eddie, has prepared the hot water just for you. He welcomes you in by telling you that you're late and have missed the DnD match, but he quickly realizes you're not in the mood.

You're so mentally exhausted, fed up and frustrated with your canceled date that you try to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Eddie gets a little hurt because the rules say no pitty fucking amongst pals.

When there's no reaction from him you just pull back and shrug. You won't show how embarrassed you actually feel. Not in this already pitiful state. Eddie knows about the canceled dates.

He does try to move on and get some snacks and a movie ready. He is flustered... your breath was so hot on his face... good thing he has time to shake the feeling off while you shower.

"The grime has been washed off!"

"We can talk about it, ...if you want to that is?"

Eddie is genuinely worried about your emotional state and he makes you open up and even break down in his arms. You have been living in denial but your love interest has been distancing themselves from you.

After this crying session, with you holding onto Eddie's warm body and wetting his Hellfire Club shirt with mascara tears, you put on a horror film. He even lets the fact that you're wearing your now ex's hoodie drop. Even though the revelation makes his chest tighten and his breath canal feel like it's been blocked.

You fall asleep on him.

He can feel the outline of your curves and your breasts pressing against him but the way he's holding you is gentle, like he's afraid you'll break into a thousand small, sharp pieces if he squeezes you too hard. You're even snoring softly, completely drained from all the crying.

At least you can't notice the silent tears running down his face. It's unfair. He's choking up in all the unsaid things. He had to see you crying over someone that doesn't even appreciate you while he was there. Exposed to you, ready to give you all he had.

Is he not your best friend? Who is there painting your nails and giving you scalp massages when your period headaches torment you?

Maybe if his mother hadn't abandoned him he would have been able to ask her for advice. He feels like crap now. Are you really that blind? Do you take him for granted to such an extent as you showed him tonight?

Another morning comes, but insecurities gnaw at Eddie. He can't fake a smile when you yawn and open your eyes, realising you're still wrapped around him.

"You look like shit."

Normally he wouldn't mind your choice of words at all, probably finding something even worse to say to you, but in his fragile state... Eddie snaps.

"It's not funny y/n! Do you think it's funny when someone spends the night sleepless?!"

You tilt your head, your mouth forming a straight line.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Oh no, I don't wanna hear it! Are you really as insensitive as you let out?"

"Edds I... I-"

"Shut up! Just shut up! I can't take it anymore! You have me wrapped around your finger y/n, feeding me hope and baked goodies.. but I've never heard a single I love you Eddie, not a single I actually care for you Eddie... Nothing!"

His big eyes are glassy now, tears threatening to spill down his freshly shaven cheeks. It breaks your heart to see him like this.

"B- but I do... I do love you!"

Your voice cracks as you feel your own eyes swelling up with tears.

"Then prove it! Prove it goddamn it! Wear my hoodies, worry over me for a change... Just please... Please-"

All the energy and anger have vanished from his expression and tone. Your gaze has softened as well and he feels like he's melting under it.

You extend your arms, wrapping them tightly around him. Eddie returns the embrace like you're gonna vanish into thin air if he doesn't hold you close enough to be able to feel your heartbeat against his own.

"Have I been so blind?" you ask without breaking the hug.

"Yes you glorious idiot of a girl..."

The pout... the melodrama. He's okay now. You stay like this for a while, missing your classes but at least settling into the conclusion.

You two belong together.

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my masterlist 🫶

I found all my shifting scripts from quite some time ago, so since I'm still in this stupid writer's block I thought it'd be fun to work on some pre existing material. I had to edit this ALOT, but it came out cute ngl✨

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

drunk in love

pairing: steve harrington x female!reader

WC: 2K

warnings: mentions of drinking, little sexual implications. very tame.

summary: steve being drunk and in love

A/N: took the hc from @headkiss​ about glasses steve and just ran with something. most of this i wrote at the gym on the treadmill.

@alecmores​ my editor💕

been in the drafts since may 6

masterlist / steve harrington

it’s been a while since you and steve were able to go out and enjoy yourselves, and when the perfect opportunity presented itself the both of you snatched it up. although right now, as you're slightly buzzed and steve is leaning off of eddie’s shoulder, you know getting him home is gonna be a hassle. eddie and robin weren’t making things better, in fact, they were making it worse. eddie would pull steve’s silver framed glasses away, which added to his blurring vision, and robin would hand him a glass and say, “it’s just water, dingus.” it was not water, in fact, it was a shot of vodka. steve would stick his tongue out with a grimace as his two friends just laughed.

“all right, all right.” you step in, pushing the glass away from steve’s outstretched hands, “i think that’s enough for tonight, big guy,” you say with two pats to his chest.

steve’s eyes were closed as he rolled his head back and hummed. you snatched his glasses back from eddie and tipped his face down to you. you had to wiggle the handles a bit before they sat on his red ears. his eyes blinked a few times, the mindless action looked like a focusing task for him before his warm eyes danced over your face.

“pwetty.” he even giggled a little. he moved away from eddie and wrapped his long and heavy limbs over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. his cologne was mixed with sweat and hints of alcohol that stained his clothes and spiked his mouth.

“why don’t we get you to bed? how’s that sound?” you had to handle him like a toddler, just a little bit.

he didn’t verbally reply. just the feeling of him nodding his head, nose, and lips brushing your skin. you rubbed along his spine and he seemed to melt further.

you looked to a giggling robin and a watchful eddie who had a smirk painted on his lips. you just glared at the two of them and their childish antics toward your boyfriend.

“hope y’all had fun picking on my boy. you will not be hearing from us for the next few days.” you threw a playful middle finger their way as you left the venue.

-

steve was very handsy and clingy when heavily intoxicated. and you didn’t mind the extra love and attention, it’s just a lot when you have to push him away as you're both in the back of a taxi heading to your shared apartment. at first, it would be his arms innocently wrapped around your waist with his head leaning against your shoulder as he groaned. you would scratch his scalp or rub his back and tell him, “we’ll be home soon,” followed by a kiss to his temple. then his sleepiness would be replaced by his hornyness as he would start to place kisses on your free skin and his hands would soon wonder.

“steve…” you kept a firm tone even as he set your pulse thumping. he just hummed, just hummed! like his fingers weren’t crawling further up under your shirt and very close to your bra.

“stevie…” a slight hitch to your voice, “now isn’t the time or place.” there was another kiss just under your jaw before you heard him groan and pull his burning touch away. you heaved a sigh as you looked at the dirty car ceiling.

-

moving a man taller, heavier, and more intoxicated than you was always a challenge. well, the first two are always difficult even when sober. but when steve is close to passing out, he suddenly becomes cement and you have to make sure your knees don’t give out.

at this point in the night, you can be seen giving steve a piggyback ride… well, more like steve is leaning his front against your back and he’s dragging his feet. sometimes his glasses get caught in your hair and you groan quietly.

your thankful your apartment building has an elevator cause you would have just made the stairs your bed for the night.

steve rests his back on the wall and it gives your body a break. you turn your head at the dozing-off man-child behind you, with his arms still over your shoulders. his light brown hair that was styled earlier is now curled and tangled from the constant fingers running through them. long lashes flutter over his dark circles from long and rough hours from work and his lips were parted to let air tickle your neck hair. his glasses were slowly sliding down his oily nose bridge.

you didn’t want to, but you had to wake him up again. two taps under his chin and his head jerked up, you worried he would slam it into the wood paneling.

“sorry baby. just a few more steps and you can crash,” you pushed the glasses up and gave a kiss to his nose. a hazy grin was shown.

“your… your the-“  hiccup “- the best.”

you shrugged like you were saying, ‘what can i say?’

once you were on your floor it seemed something gave a bit of pep to steve’s steps as he wasn’t using you to keep him upright and he was the one leading you home. when you got the lock open and the door swung in, it’s like steve set foot in heaven.

“home! oh, sweet home! i’ve missed you so much! my lovely, lovely home.” it always made your heart burst whenever steve called the apartment home. and you remember why he does, it’s a loop even time he says the word.

“cause you and i are together no matter the time of day. when i’m with you it’s home and when we’re at the apartment it’s home, but like extra homey. a place where our love is physical to everyone, even ourselves.”

you ended up jumping onto steve and made out with him for a few hours until you had to start dinner.

steve’s whine of your name snapped the memory away. you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips. he laid on his back with his arms reaching for you as his hands made a grabbing motion like a child asking to be picked up.

you weren’t gonna have him sleep on the floor even if he looked comfortable. so you spread your legs and waddled your feet until his knees were under you. you grabbed his forearms for added stability and tugged with all your might, which was useless. he was a bag of sand.

“stevie,” you huffed as you tried again, “i know… i said you could crash when we got home… but your back is gonna hurt real bad in the morning.”

“honey, i’m already in bed.” steve pouted. you shake your head with an amused grin, “no, you’re not. you’re on the living room floor, which i have to add, needs to be vacuumed.”

steve groaned again. you knew it wasn’t pointed toward you, just his drunk mind doing things. “steve, please don’t make me throw a cup of water at you… again.”

steve huffed, “okay, okay.” his arms dropped like anchors to the floor and he sat up, stopped, then moved to stand. and he stopped again, eyes squeezed shut, and you were really hoping he wasn’t gonna throw up.

“i’m good.” two thumbs up before stumbling towards the bedroom. it was like watching bambi on ice.

you took a detour to the kitchen for a glass of water and some of the cookies steve likes to munch on. then you grabbed some of your doctor-prescribed headache medication. you took a pill quickly in case a headache might creep up on you during the night.

when you walked through the threshold of your shared bedroom, you snorted at the sight. steve was able to kick his sneakers off at the foot of the bed, but the rest of his clothes were another thing. his light wash levi jeans (that make his ass look sooooo good) were pushed down to his knees showing off his white boxers. his shirt was lifted from his torso but covered his face, arms bent. you ogled for a minute before your thoughts ran from you.

“oh, stevie. what am i gonna do with you?” you set your treasure atop the dresser and finished his work.

when you managed to strip him of his shirt you were greeted with a smirk flashing your way. your brows raised slightly at the pull of his lips.

“what?” you leaned close to steve’s face. his head turned. “wanna fool around?” he wiggled his brows drunkenly, very suggestively. you blinked a few times at him. “one, you’re plastered. and two, if we even did have sex, it would only be kissing before you passed out on me.”

“and what a way to sleep.” a deep chuckle from his chest.

you threw his clothes in the hamper as you made quick work of changing as well. “i’m so lucky,” you heard steve mutter behind you, “my wife is the hottest woman alive.”

now if you were walking, you would’ve tripped at the words spewing from steve’s mouth. you did a slow turn and saw steve staring at his hands, not a thought behind his eyes. so you tried not to think hard about steve calling you his wife. even though it’s already pinballing everywhere with dreams of a future married together. oh, how you wish you could release a squeal of ever-loving joy.

doing your nighttime routine just put you on autopilot. from feeling floaty and warm to just wanting to fall asleep in your cozy bed with your personal space heater. as you brushed your teeth, you went to check on steve again and made sure he was breathing. he managed to pull himself under the covers, the blanket tucked all the way to his chin. but he still had his glasses on, you don’t know how he doesn’t feel them seeing as he’s on his side with his head towards your spot on the bed.

doing a double check of the locks on the door and windows and seeing everything was secure, you flicked the lights out and walked in the dark. the small night light on your nightstand gave a faint pale yellow glow that illuminated steve’s peaceful face. you could see a small bit of his chest moving with each steady breath he took, and his lips separated. he had one arm tucked under his pillow while the other was stretched to your side, his palm flat on the cover and his fingers would twitch every few seconds.

you set a knee on the mattress and lean forward slowly hoping not to wake him, which is easy or hard, depending on the situation. with nimble fingers, you grab his wired frames, and gently and slowly you pulled them away from his face. his face scrunched a bit, specifically his nose and you swooped in for a peck. steve hummed and his hand moved again and made contact with your knee.

“honey, cuddle me.” said like a command but was in the tone of a whine. but you wouldn’t deprive your best boy of cuddles, or yourself of cuddles.

so, you set his glasses down and slide into his waiting arm. steve automatically threw the limb over your waist as you got yourself comfortable. a good night kiss to his forehead before you let your head hit the pillow and wrapped your own arms around steve to pull him closer. one more kiss to the middle of his throat. and another to his collarbone. and the very last to his shoulder.

“one more,” he grumbled. you moved your head back and saw he was pouting his lips. a proper good night kiss as steve always says.

so you pressed your lips to his, deciding he could use a bit more than a lightning-fast peck. and when you pulled back he had a dreamy smile and pulled you even closer to his chest.

“i’m gonna marry you one day.” he whispered to your hair before giving light snores. and you closed your eyes with a gigantic smile as you dreamed of that special day when you marry the boy you love with your whole being.

...

[h3avenly-hyst3ria]

Up-and-coming rock sensation Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson spotted with B-list actress Melanie Jackson and unknown hottie at latest award event! Lipstick marks on both men imply some sort of arrangement between Munson and the stranger...

(click for HQ!! redraw of an old thing... close-ups below the cut!)

LOVE how this came out. i forgot steve's moles at first and had to add them in but i still like it :3

considering how much fun i had doing this one, im thinking i may need to draw Melanie more often ....

[rottentato]

requesting an x reader fic feels so scary

like what if they see my request and go “EWUGH NO YOU’RE A FREAK GET OUT OF MY ASKS YOU WEIRDO UGHH DISGRACE!!!”

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’ve done anything like this before but maybe reader who’s feeling insecure in her swimsuit with Steve 🩵

cw: reader's swimsuit is compared to underwear, reader is insecure about her body, Steve is a silly boy

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 735 words

From beneath the surface of the water, you hear a voice. Deep, resonant. Your heart skips pleasantly as you kick upwards. 

You crest the surface to find Steve halfway to you. He’s squinting in the sun, one hand brought up to shade his face. There’s something indescribably but undeniably handsome to you about Steve’s frown. It brings those ultra-expressive brows of his down and together, causing his lips to purse and his jaw—you don’t know how, but you swear—to appear more defined. Or maybe it’s just that there’s usually a sort of exasperated care about the look, and you like to think that care could be directed at you.

“Hey,” you say, the word curving with your smile. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” He crouches by the edge of the pool, leaning down for a kiss. Afterwards, you set your chin on your crossed arms to look up at him, lips buzzing. Steve touches your face with a finger, unsticking a piece of hair that’s become slicked to your cheek and combing it back in with the rest. “They’re showing Jaws at the movies for a buck a piece. You wanna go?” 

“Right now?” 

“In an hour. Plenty of time to get dried off and grab snacks.” 

You kick your legs idly, pondering. Really, nothing sounds better to your sun-warmed brain than showering and putting on some comfortable clothes to go sit in a dark room. Steve will probably have you half in his lap by the end credits, too, it being a scary movie. 

“Sure,” you say. “Want to hang out here while I rinse off and stuff?” 

Steve grins; it’s nearly as handsome as his frown, enough to send your stomach into fits. “Sounds good to me.” He reaches for your hands to help you out. 

You start to take them automatically, but hesitate. You and Steve are pretty comfortable with each other, but you haven’t had your clothes off in front of him. The bikini you have on now is really no different than underwear. You glance down at the body currently distorted by rippling pool water, insecure.

“What’s up?” Steve asks at your pause. 

You feel trapped. There’s really no way out of this for you. You could ask him to go inside so he doesn’t see you and you know he’d do it, but that feels worse. The only thing scarier than him seeing you like this might be confessing how worried you are that he won’t like what he sees. 

If Steve isn’t acting like it’s a big deal, you decide, neither will you. 

“Nothing,” you say, putting your hands in his. Steve hauls you out of the water without another delay. 

It’s not a pretty process. Your back bends forward as you emerge, tummy sticking out and water streaming off you. In your mind it glistens most obviously in the places you’d like not to show, the rolls and curvatures you’d rather Steve’s eyes sailed past unseeingly. You get one knee up onto the warm tiles surrounding the pool, letting his hands go so you can crawl the rest of the way up on your own. As you straighten, you fight hard not to bend your shoulders and cross your arms over yourself. 

But Steve has already turned away. Not in repulsion or some attempt at preserving your modesty, just to grab the towel you’d set nearby. He wraps it around your shoulders. 

Your stomach flips at the appreciative glance you catch him dropping to your chest. Steve notices you noticing; his cheekbones tinge a pretty pink. 

“Sorry,” he says hastily. 

You wrap the towel around yourself, feeling rather flushed yourself. “It’s okay.” 

“I just, I—you know, we haven’t—” 

“I know,” you say. “It’s fine.” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You’ve never seen Steve so flustered. It makes it difficult to feel very self-conscious yourself, a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat. “Like, if you don’t want me to see, but you’re—you—obviously, you’re--” He gestures helplessly at your body, now mostly covered by the towel, then looks like he regrets that, too. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m going to go inside, okay?” 

“Okay.” Your smile is irrepressible, now. “Steve, it’s really fine. You’re good.” “You go shower.” Steve turns around, walking face-first into your back door. He continues talking as though this doesn’t register. “I’ll be in the kitchen, just—not thinking about—uh, yeah.”

[callsign-coolsquirrel]

i recently got into snow globes

[sundropflowerr]

You, Me, and Our Tree | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: no use of y/n, post s4 where there’s a happy ending, fluff, sweet domestic vibes, established relationship, holiday cheer, cozy moments, cute banter and playful teasing (especially about christmas trees), soft kisses, mutual affection, gentle kisses, light humor, with a dash of sarcasm, comforting moments, deep connection, and a touch of nostalgia, lots of christmas decorating chaos and mismatched ornaments, cuddling, the warmth of being in love, snowstorm, cozy apartment setting.

★ Summary: On a snowy December day, you and Steve curl up together to decorate a lopsided tree, laughter filling the air as you argue over the perfect placement for each ornament. It’s warm, it’s simple, and it feels like everything you wanted. 1.7k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x gn!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” - Frank Sinatra

★ Dividers: thank you to @strangergraphics for the adorable divider, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author’s Note: i love christmas and i love steve so two and two together brought this love child. though short, i had a blast writing this. i need to set up a christmas tree with steve asap.

The first snowstorm of the season had rolled in sometime during the early hours of the morning, soft and steady, a blanket of white slowly swallowing Hawkins.

You hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten until a snowplow rattled by just before dawn, shaking the windows and dragging you out of sleep. By the time you got up for coffee, the street outside had disappeared beneath a foot of snow, the world outside pale and silent.

It was the kind of day you’d both hoped for—one where you could stay home, tangled in blankets, too lazy to do anything but exist together. Steve, being Steve, had insisted you stay inside, warm and cozy, while he braved the cold to get a Christmas tree for the two of you. He didn’t want you dealing with the snow or the chill, though you argued you’d be fine. But Steve was relentless, refusing to let you leave the comfort of your apartment.

That’s how you ended up here, curled up on the couch, waiting for him to return with the tree.

“Don’t slip and break your neck,” you’d said, still half-asleep, as Steve grabbed his coat that morning.

He turned to you, his usual overconfident grin spreading across his face. “I’ll be fine. It’s just snow. You think it’s gonna stop me?”

You weren’t sure whether to roll your eyes or smile. Three years together and you still couldn’t decide if Steve was brave or just plain stubborn.

Probably both.

When the buzzer crackled through the quiet of your apartment, you weren’t at all surprised—it was exactly what you’d been waiting for.

“Can you let me in? I’m freezing out here.”

Steve’s voice cut through the receiver, muffled and shivering, and you buzzed him in without a word. By the time you opened the door, he was halfway up the stairs, carrying a thin, lopsided Christmas tree under one arm like it weighed nothing at all.

“Ta-da,” he said, breathless and grinning, as he kicked the door shut behind him. Snowflakes dotted his hair and shoulders, melting into tiny drops. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, a scarf you knitted two years ago wound haphazardly around his neck. “Look at this beauty.”

“That’s what you call a beauty?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you stepped aside to let him in.

Steve shot you a look as he leaned the tree against the wall, shaking snow out of his hair with one hand. “Don’t start. This guy’s perfect.”

“It’s leaning.”

“It’s got character,” he argued, already shedding his wet coat and boots by the door. His socks were damp, his jeans dusted with snow, and he looked entirely too proud of himself.

“Three years of this and you still pick the saddest-looking tree every time,” you teased, crossing your arms as he toed off his boots.

“Consistency’s important,” he said, straightening up and flashing you that grin that made your heart flip like it was ‘85 all over again. The grin you first fell for when you were both crammed into those stupid Scoops Ahoy uniforms, trading banter and ice cream scoops while monsters lurked under Hawkins.

Steve looked at the tree again, hands on his hips like a dad surveying a new lawn. “It’ll look better once we decorate it. Trust me.”

“Your track record isn’t great, Harrington.”

He ignored you, instead stepping closer, brushing his cold hands against your arms with a soft, teasing smile. “Missed me?”

“You’re freezing,” you muttered, but you didn’t step away. You never did. His hands were cold, his hair was wet, and he still managed to feel like home.

Before you could say anything else, Steve leaned down, his lips brushing softly against yours, a sweet, familiar kiss that felt like everything. His cold lips melted against yours, and for a moment, it was just the two of you—no snowstorm, no responsibilities, just him and you, wrapped up in the warmth of each other.

The tree didn’t take long to set up—mostly because Steve insisted on doing all the heavy lifting while you watched with an amused smile. By the time it was finally in the stand and mostly upright, he was on the floor, legs sprawled out, glaring up at the crooked branches like they’d personally wronged him.

“You think it leans more to the left or the right?” he asked.

“It’s pretty balanced,” you lied, trying to bite back a laugh.

Steve turned to you, his expression dry. “You’re lying. I can tell.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, sinking onto the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. “It’s perfect. Really.”

He squinted at you for another second before shaking his head with a chuckle. “Unbelievable.” But he stood anyway, brushing snow-dampened palms against his jeans as he moved toward you. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you, y’know.”

“You tell me that like it’s news,” you teased, and Steve dropped onto the couch beside you, letting out an exaggerated groan as he stretched his legs.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, mugs warm in your hands, the soft hum of the radiator filling the quiet. Outside, snow continued to fall, casting a pale glow through the window that made the room feel softer somehow, almost golden.

It was strange, you thought, how this had become your normal—Steve Harrington, tangled up on your couch, feet brushing yours under a blanket that barely covered the both of you. You remembered when all of this was still new: the way he’d knocked on your door that first Christmas after Starcourt, holding a scrappy little tree he’d picked out himself because, in his words, “Someone’s gotta keep the tradition going.”

That was three years ago. Back when you’d both been bruised, uncertain, and still trying to find something steady after everything you’d been through.

But now, as Steve leaned closer, stealing your blanket and grinning when you protested, you realized how far you’d come. How easy it was to love him after all these years.

“You know,” Steve murmured, his voice quieter now, “I think this might be the best tree yet.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “You say that every year.”

“Yeah, but I mean it this time.” He was still looking at the tree, his expression softer now, like he wasn’t really talking about the tree at all. “Just feels… right, y’know?”

You did know.

Decorating the tree turned into a whole production. Steve pulled the box of ornaments out of the hall closet, insisting on playing Christmas music from the cassette player on the bookshelf—old, crackly tunes that filled the apartment with warmth.

You handed him the lights first, watching as he tried (and failed) to untangle the string from the knot he’d stuffed it into last year.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” you asked, biting back a laugh as he scowled at the mess of wires.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Steve replied, deadpan.

“You said it, not me.”

Eventually, you took pity on him and helped untangle the mess. The two of you strung the lights together, Steve holding the tree steady while you wrapped the glowing strand around its crooked branches. By the time you plugged them in, the entire room felt warmer, the golden light spilling across the walls.

Steve grinned, hands on his hips as he admired your work. “Not bad.”

“You mean my work,” you corrected, bumping his shoulder as you reached for the ornaments.

The box was full of mismatched decorations you’d collected over the last few years: a little snowman you’d found at the flea market, a glittery star that Steve insisted on buying last year, even a couple of hand-painted ones from Dustin and Max. You handed them to Steve one at a time, watching as he placed them carefully on the branches, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” you said, smirking.

“I’m a professional,” he replied without missing a beat.

You didn’t realize how close he’d gotten until you turned to hand him the last ornament, and he was already looking at you, that soft, lopsided smile on his face.

“What?” you asked, heart skipping.

“Nothing.” He shook his head slightly, still smiling. “Just happy.”

You paused, fingers brushing his as you handed him the ornament—an old glass bauble you’d found at Scoops one summer, forgotten in a box in the stockroom. You’d kept it ever since.

“Me too,” you said quietly.

Steve turned to hang the ornament, his movements gentle, almost reverent. When he stepped back, the tree glowed softly in the corner of the room, its crooked branches dripping with lights and mismatched baubles.

It was far from perfect, but it was yours.

Later, after dinner, the two of you ended up back on the couch, wrapped up in the same too-small blanket, watching the tree flicker in the dark. The apartment smelled like pine and leftover takeout, the kind of cozy warmth that made your eyelids heavy.

Steve’s arm was around you, his thumb tracing slow circles against your shoulder. You could feel him breathing, slow and steady, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“You know what I was thinking?” he murmured after a while.

“Hm?”

“We should get a bigger place next year. Like, with a fireplace or something. I feel like we need one of those.”

You smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. “For what? Stockings?”

“And hot chocolate,” Steve replied, smirking. “And to impress everyone when they come over.”

“You mean the kids.”

“Yeah. And Robin.”

You laughed softly, curling closer into his side. “We’ll think about it.”

Steve hummed, his hand still moving gently against your arm. “Good. ‘Cause I was already looking at—”

“Steve.”

“Right, right.” He grinned, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “We’ll think about it.”

Outside, snow tapped faintly against the windows, the streetlights casting long shadows across the floor. And as you sat there, wrapped up in Steve and the quiet of your shared apartment, you realized there was nothing else you needed.

The tree might be crooked, the lights uneven, but everything about this felt perfect.

It always did, with him.

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day!

[magical-reid]

Into the Breach

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Prompt: 29 Prompt: 7: “Go with me?” “Only if you hold my hand.”

Summary: In the eerie, desolate landscape of the Upside Down, you and Steve face a terrifying creature together, fighting side by side with unwavering determination. After surviving the battle, Steve’s quiet confession and the comfort of his embrace make you realize that, no matter the dangers around you, you’ll always have each other.

The ground was sticky, soft underfoot, as if the earth itself were holding its breath. Tendrils of sickly gray mist slithered around your ankles, winding higher with each passing second. The air was colder than it should’ve been for a late June night in Hawkins, and it carried the sharp tang of something otherworldly—a scent that stung like ozone and blood.

You couldn’t stop staring at the gate.

It pulsed like a living wound carved into the earth, jagged and raw. In the dim light of the flashlights scattered around you, it glowed a deep, menacing crimson. You could hear it too—the faint, awful sound of something breathing.

And beyond it, there was something else. Waiting.

Steve stood beside you, gripping the bat in one hand, the spikes he’d hammered into it catching the light in quick, deadly flashes. His jaw was tight, his hair wild and messy like he’d run his hands through it one too many times tonight.

“We don’t have to do this,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

His eyes snapped to you. Hazel and honey-brown, full of fire and determination, but softening just a fraction when they met yours.

“Yes, we do,” he said, voice low, steady. “We have to stop this thing before it hurts anyone else.”

Dustin’s frantic voice crackled through the walkie in Steve’s back pocket. Something about Demobats, something about Nancy’s group needing time to set the trap. You barely processed the words. All you could focus on was the gate.

And the way Steve had shifted closer to you.

“We go together, alright?” he said, breaking through the silence. His hand found your arm, a warm, grounding pressure that you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to tell him you’d go anywhere he asked. But the truth was, you were scared—scared of what waited for you on the other side, scared of not coming back.

“Go with me?” he asked, his voice soft now, laced with something fragile and raw.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His face was open, honest, like he was letting you see every bit of him—the fear he wouldn’t say out loud, the hope that you’d say yes.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

“Only if you hold my hand,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Something shifted in his expression. His grip on the bat faltered for half a second before his free hand reached for yours. His palm was rough, his fingers warm, and the way he held on—like he wasn’t planning on letting go—made something inside you ache.

“Deal,” he said, a faint, crooked smile tugging at his lips despite the situation.

You felt a little steadier, a little braver, as his thumb brushed over the back of your hand. He squeezed once, firm and reassuring, before leading you toward the gate.

The edges of the rift crackled as you approached, heat and cold and something electric making the hair on your arms stand on end.

“Stay close,” Steve said over his shoulder, his voice gruffer now, his shoulders squared.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, gripping his hand tighter as the two of you stopped at the edge. The sound of growling—low and guttural—echoed from the other side. Your stomach turned, but Steve’s hand didn’t falter in yours.

“On three,” he said, glancing at you one last time. “One… two…”

You sucked in a breath as he pulled you forward, the world twisting and cracking as you plunged into the Upside Down together.

The Upside Down was colder than you remembered. The air was thick with ash, swirling in lazy, malevolent spirals, and the trees loomed jagged and dead. It reeked of rot and decay, the kind of smell that clung to your skin and sat heavy in your lungs. Steve still hadn’t let go of your hand, and you hadn’t asked him to.

You could feel the heat of his body beside you, a stark contrast to the icy void of this place. His grip on the bat was steady, his knuckles white as he surveyed the shadows around you. Every snap of a branch, every distant screech, set your heart racing.

And then you saw it.

It emerged from the fog with a slow, deliberate gait, its claws clicking against the ground as it moved. It was grotesque, all sinew and bone, with a twisted, too-long body and a maw filled with rows of serrated teeth. Its eyes—if you could call them that—glowed faintly, like dying embers, fixed on you and Steve with unrelenting hunger.

Steve shifted in front of you instinctively, his body a shield.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and calm in a way that didn’t match the tension rippling through him. “Here’s the plan: I’ll distract it. You—”

“No way,” you interrupted, stepping beside him. “I’m not hiding while you get yourself killed.”

“Y/N—”

“We do this together,” you said firmly, gripping the crowbar in your hand. Your voice wavered, but your resolve didn’t.

He stared at you for a beat, something flickering in his eyes that might’ve been admiration—or maybe exasperation. “Fine. Together. Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

The creature lunged before you could respond, its claws raking the air where you’d stood seconds before. Steve shoved you aside, the movement fluid and practiced, as he swung the bat in a wide arc. The spikes connected with a sickening crunch, but the thing barely flinched, whipping its head toward him with a guttural snarl.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

With a shout, you drove the crowbar into its side, the metal sinking into the tough, rubbery flesh. It screeched, its body twisting unnaturally as it lashed out. You barely had time to duck as its claws sliced through the air above you.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice was sharp, panicked, as he swung the bat again, aiming for its head. This time, the spikes found their mark, and the creature staggered back, its movements jerky and erratic.

You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline surging through you as Steve barked, “Go for the legs!”

Together, you moved in sync. You struck low while he struck high, the sound of metal meeting flesh ringing out in the desolate landscape. The creature howled, a high, keening sound that made your ears ring, but it was faltering now, its movements sluggish and desperate.

Steve delivered the final blow. With a shout, he drove the bat into its head, the spikes burying deep. The creature let out one last, pitiful shriek before collapsing in a heap.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the Upside Down.

Steve dropped the bat, his chest heaving as he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse. His hands found your shoulders, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you managed, though your legs felt like jelly, and your hands were trembling. “Are you—”

He didn’t let you finish. He pulled you into a fierce hug, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. For a moment, all you could do was stand there, your face pressed against his chest, listening to the wild hammering of his heart.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmured, his voice thick with something you didn’t dare name.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted, but the crack in your voice betrayed you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your arms. His face was smeared with grime, a cut on his cheek oozing blood, but his eyes—those warm, honey-colored eyes—were soft, shining with something raw and unspoken.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I scared you?” you shot back, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “You’re the one who went full monster bait out there.”

A laugh burst out of him—unexpected, short, but genuine. And then he did something you weren’t expecting. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“Thanks for having my back,” he murmured.

“Always,” you replied, your voice steady now.

You stayed like that for a moment, the world around you fading into a dull hum. Here, in the middle of the Upside Down, surrounded by ash and decay and death, you found a sliver of peace.

And when Steve’s hand found yours again, you held on just as tightly as he did.

[cringe-for-breakfast]

yes I'm this kind of Stranger Things enthusiast (sigh)

all of the icons are from unfinished arts that I prolly won't finish and that's a tragedy

I'll ramble more about their relationship... someday

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