#steve harrington x self insert

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovie a lil request: the first time Steve May be raises his voice or gets upset with reader? And just like angst with fluff

Thank you for your request (and for your patience)!

cw: near-miss car accident, it's lightly implied that reader has trauma (or maybe she's just jumpy and easily upset! who's to say)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 748 words

“You can’t tell me you don’t know who this is.” 

“I don’t!” Steve swears. “I’ve heard the song, I just don’t know who sings it.” 

You shake your head, grinning. You’ve got one leg hiked up on the driver’s seat and Steve’s hand trapped beneath the other, his fingers spread on the fleshy underside of your thigh. 

“This is Hall and Oates!”

When Steve doesn’t react however you think he should, you glance over. He raises his eyebrows. “Should I know who that is?” 

You laugh. “Yes!” you insist. “How can you not know who they are?”

“Sounds more like a cereal than a band,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell you. I listen to songs on the radio, but I just don’t keep track of the names. I like this song, though.”

You smile at him sideways. “I feel like you could be a secret Hall and Oates fan.” 

Steve gives your leg a squeeze. “It’d have to be a secret from me, too,” he says, “but I guess—hey, hey!” His voice rises sharply as he looks out his window. “Y/N!” 

You jolt, swerving out of the lane you’d been changing into as the car in your blind spot honks. You set your other leg down, hands tightening on the steering wheel. 

“Shit.” Steve lets out a breath. He realizes his grip on your leg has turned cruel in his panic, and he lets go. “Sorry. That was…shit, that was close.” 

You make a small sound of agreement. 

Steve breathes out again. He combs a hand through his hair, heart still going a mile a minute but starting to come down. “Y’okay?” 

You don’t say anything. Steve looks over, hand finding your thigh again automatically. Your body is stiff in your seat, and your eyes are bright. 

“Hey,” he says, surprised. Dread starts to take form in his gut. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s…it’s fine, why don’t we pull over? Pull over, baby.” 

You do, biting your lip to keep your tears from spilling. It makes Steve’s chest ache. He’s seen you like this before, when there’s fighting or sharp voices or once when Robin opened a cabinet and three metal pots clattered out onto the floor, but never with him, never because of him. 

“It’s okay,” he says again, once the car is in park. He tries to sound believable, making his voice soft and gentle. “Can I…do you want a hug?” 

You nod. Steve reaches for you, then stops, his hands hovering by your waist. “You sure?” he checks.

“Yeah,” you rasp, and he goes all the way. 

He knows you’ve cut yourself loose when you press your face to his shoulder and he feels a tiny wet spot seep into his shirt. Steve hugs you tight, leaning over the center console until it digs into his side painfully. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“No.” You draw in a wet breath. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying enough attention.” 

“I know, but I shouldn’t have yelled. I was just—I just got scared.” 

“I know,” you say back. You hold onto him. “I’m glad you yelled. It got my attention.” 

Steve frowns, retreating enough to see your face. He brushes away a couple of tears, and your eyes go to the side like you’re embarrassed. 

“I don’t ever want to scare you,” he says, earnestly. 

You shake your head. “You don’t.” 

He lowers his voice again. It’s nearly a whisper. “I’m sorry I yelled.” 

“Don’t,” you insist. “I’m fine.” 

Steve watches you carefully. “Yeah? You’re okay?” he asks. You nod, and he relaxes. “Okay. C’mere.” 

You meet him across the console without reservation, returning his gentle kisses with your own. He does his best to soothe the bullied flesh of your bitten lip. 

“Y’okay?” he asks again, just to be sure. You make a soft sound of confirmation. “You want me to drive the rest of the way?”

You pull back to look at him. A little bit of humor is back in your eyes. “Would that make you feel better?” 

Steve grins, sheepish. “A little bit. Only because you’re upset.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh heavily, and it’s a jokey thing, but the rest of the tension goes out of you with it. “That’s fine, we can switch.” 

“Thanks.” Steve gives you another kiss, lingering for a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt. “It’ll be easier this way. You can tell me more about honey bunches of oats.” 

“You know that’s not what they’re called.”

[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

Happy reading, my darling!

NSFW

Alphabet

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↪ ♥ lovemaking, lazyghouls kinktober 2023, read all warnings on post.

↪ ♥ creampie/breeding kink, lazyghouls kinktober 2023, read all warnings on post.

↪ ♥ role reversal, lazyghouls kinktober 2023, read all warnings on post.

↪ ♥ exhibtionism/voyeurism, lazyghouls kinktober 2023, read all warnings on post.

SFW

Alphabet

↪ here

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↪ blurb 1

↪

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↪ info post

[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.

[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 is 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.

...

[im-robins-bitch]

Steve loves his passenger princess. He adores having you sit next to him in the front. 

He loves how you’ll always share whatever you’re eating with him. How you lean over to give him the last sip of your milkshake and then kiss his cheek. He likes when you push a sweet into his awaiting mouth and he catches your finger between his teeth and sucks, the squeal you let out always makes him laugh. 

Your stuff always ends up forgotten in his glove box, a chapstick, a hair tie and sometimes a mix tape. The items always end up coming in handy, so much so he wonders if you must have some kind of sense of knowing what he needs when he needs it. 

In winter when his lips get all wind-chapped, he only needs to pop the glove box open to find a fruity chapstick you’ve left behind. As cheesy as it sounds, it always feels like a kiss from you when he tastes the familiar flavour. 

When he’s due a haircut and his hair starts to get in his eyes, he always finds a hair tie or scrunchie in the side compartment. You always complain that the headrests hurt your head when you lean back with an updo, so they almost always end up coming down. 

Your mixtapes, sometimes covered in hearts left especially for him, other times tapes you genuinely left behind, always remind him of you when he needs you. 

Mike once found Steve’s ‘makeout mix’, because you insisted Led Zepplin was the best to make out to and Steve wanted to prove you wrong. He’s not sure Mike is ever going to let that go. 

You took on your role as designated navigator, DJ and Steve feeder seriously, much to Dustin's chagrin. Anytime you would be picked up after Dustin, he was quickly relegated to the back. The two of you would bicker about it, normally ending in him throwing fast food wrappers at you while you played a tape he hated on top volume to drown out his complaints. 

Although Steve loved the kids, sometimes it was nice to be able to grab you and drive out somewhere quiet, he didn’t really like taking you to skull rock or lovers lake. He wanted to make sure you knew he wasn’t like that anymore. Instead, he would drive somewhere just out of town. He’d open the doors of his BMW so you could hear the music playing from the radio while you slow danced around the car, stargazed or made out on the hood. 

When he heard about how you struggled with and failed driver's ed made him a little happy. He knew that your driving dates wouldn’t be ending anytime soon. It just gave him more opportunities to spend time with you. He doesn’t want you to get soaked riding your bike to work, if it gives him more opportunities to ogle you in your work clothing then it’s just an added bonus. 

At first, it felt awkward to ask him to drive you somewhere because you couldn’t get there yourself. One day you expressed your concerns, that you felt bad that he always had to be the one driving you two to places and how he was always giving you rides. 

He was all reassurance as he insisted that he enjoyed driving and he enjoyed it even more when you were sat next to him. Whenever you would offer to pay for gas he would always brush you off, claiming he only accepted payment in kisses. He was always overpaid. 

Steve loves having you as his passenger princess but always say’s if you want to learn he can always teach you. Maybe one day you’ll accept, but for now, you were content like this.

masterlist

[harrywavycurly]

Hi! I love soft sugar daddy Steve! I was wondering if I could request a text convo where the reader asks Steve to buy them something for the first time? Concert tickets maybe? I just need to see his reaction 🥹 I feel like he would be so happy to do this for you

Hiii babes!!! So this spoke to my soul because the way I’d let Steven Harrington buy all my concert tickets (I’m looking at you Ms. Swift) so I hope you enjoy this!💖

-find all things Sugar Daddy Steve here✨

*Steve just wants to get you things you like and also…he’s not totally sire if you’re in a relationship or not*

[moonstruckme]

I remember seeing you say a little while ago you would take holiday requests so if this sparks some inspo for you…. How about best friend!Steve being reader’s secret Santa and giving a gift that is so sweet and personal and kind of a confession of his feelings (like Jim’s gift for Pam in the office)

Thank you for requesting!

best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 984 words

Steve’s afraid his wrapping is a dead giveaway. 

He tried his best, but gift wrapping is a new skill for him. There’s an overabundance of tape and plastic bows covering up a hasty patch job. Nancy laughed when he gave it to her to put under the tree for the secret Santa exchange. She called him sweet for trying with a weird look in her eyes and a little smile. 

You and Steve are sitting together as always. Sometimes he wonders if it’s more habit at this point than anything else. You walk into a room and you just go to him, unthinking, like a magnet. Steve does the same thing, but, well. He knows why he does it. 

So far, Eddie’s gotten a large pack of socks without holes in them, Robin’s gotten a Bangles album, and Steve has gotten a t-shirt with the words Big Dick printed on it that he’s sure Eddie—it had to have been Eddie—thinks he won’t wear, and so he will wear solely to Corroded Coffin shows, out of spite. When it’s your turn, you find Steve’s gift with your name under the tree and your eyes move between your friends suspiciously. He’s not sure whether to be relieved that you don’t immediately guess it’s from him. 

It’s painful to watch how carefully you unwrap it. You peel back layer after layer of tape, unfolding without ripping, the paper crinkling gently. 

“Come on!” Eddie jokes. “That’s not the spirit of Christmas. You’re supposed to tear it up.” 

“No!” you laugh. “Someone put a lot of effort into this. Look at all the bows!”

“Look at all the tape,” Robin mutters. She’s got Steve dialed, for sure. 

The box underneath the wrapping is plain cardboard, found in Steve’s basement. Your lips part as you open it. 

“Oh, my god.” You lift a large ceramic mug from the box. “This is—it’s my mug. Steve?” 

Steve fights a smile as you look at him, eyes wide and happy. “Can we say?” 

Robin makes a derisive noise. “Like she doesn’t already know.” 

“Steve,” you say again, stretched out and sweet like taffy. Your face softens as you reach around him for a hug. “This is so cool. Where’d you get this?” 

“Well, they didn’t only make one,” he jokes. He’s working hard to contain the full scope of his smile. God knows Eddie would never let him hear the end of it if he saw. “I found a lookalike.” 

Behind you, Robin makes a face, widening her eyes at her girlfriend dramatically. Steve is sure Nancy’s heard all about how Robin was dragged from thrift store to thrift store, town to town, one long Saturday until they found the right mug. He’s glad when she doesn’t launch into her tale of complaint again now. 

“Harrington got you your own mug?” Eddie asks, perplexed. “Did he, like, steal it from you and give it back?”

“No,” you laugh. “No, it’s…” You turn, your eyes meeting Steve’s. 

The mug is from a coffee shop you and Steve used to go to. You went together for years, starting back in school when you wanted a place to study and Steve was willing to pay three bucks for a cup of coffee to talk at you while you worked. It had become your regular spot. You had a couch you always sat on, and the baristas recognized you, so eventually there was a mug your drink order always came in, too. It was wide and green, curved with a thick lip. Plain enough, Steve thought, but you loved it. Maybe it was more that you loved having a regular drink order at a place that felt like yours, but for some reason the mug was special to you. The coffee shop closed down last summer. Steve couldn’t get you your couch (he thought about it, but it wasn’t sure where you’d put it and it seemed like a bit much), so he got your mug. 

“It’s from this place we used to go,” you say to Eddie. Your thumb brushes across the smooth ceramic, still looking at Steve. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugs, leaning back against Nancy’s couch and trying not to look too obviously pleased with himself. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Robin makes a half-suppressed guffawing sound. Steve sends her a look to tell her to zip it. 

⋆⁺₊𖠰₊⁺⋆

You lean into Steve’s side, and Nancy watches his face turn into something so tender she almost wants to grab her friend’s heart and keep it safe for him. But she thinks it’s safe with you. 

Anyway, there’s no saving Steve now. He’s been looking at you that way for years, practically since he’s known you. It’s only that now you might be starting to see it. 

You’re speaking to him quietly, holding your new mug between your hands like it’s the most precious thing you own. Your legs are nearly in Steve’s lap. He says something back to you, and you smile, bright and beatific. Your eyes stay glued to him like he's the center of your world. 

“Still can’t believe it took a whole Saturday to find a green mug,” Robin mutters, too low for anyone else to hear. She’s stolen Steve’s Big Dick shirt and put it on over her long sleeve, the large fit comical (and adorable, if you ask Nancy) as she tucks one of her knees up under it. 

“I don’t know,” Nancy says, leaning sideways so their shoulders rest together. “I think it’s sweet. It obviously means something to her. Don’t you think that’s sort of worth it?” 

Robin makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, but she softens when Nancy turns her eyes up to hers. “I guess so,” she sighs. 

On the other side of the couch, you erupt in laughter at something Steve’s said. He lights brighter than the Christmas tree.

[oracleofapollon]

you love a lot of things in life, but you love waking up next to steve harrington more than anything else.

especially when it's a hot summer morning, stuffy air in your bedroom, a delicate wind making your curtains dance and sway.

and a golden light shining through the window straight on your boy laying next to you, still asleep, facing away from you.

he sleeps shirtless on days like these. the white covers are thrown on his legs, exposing the glowing skin of his back to you. it's tanned and looks so soft that you believe it could be pure velvet. tiny moles are splattered on his sun-kissed body, making him look like a canvas painted by a great artist, or like a sky at dusk, adorned by little stars shining through the clouds.

and his scars, reminders of one of the many fights he had to survive in the upside down. they're pink and healed, shiny on his sides, disappearing into the white of your sheets.

the sun makes him look like an angel. it suits him, you think. it melts between the strands of his chocolate hair, lighting up its strands, painting them golden blonde.

you can't help but brush your fingertips against him and you immediately feel a warmth radiating from him. his back is like if apollo himself shaped it and kissed it - warm, golden, delicate.

he stirs at your tickling, mumbles under his breath, but doesn't open his eyes. you think you may not have earned the right to see his honey eyes just yet.

and so you lean in to give his moles a kiss. one on his shoulder blade, another on this side, just above the pink scratch. one on his arm. one on his shoulder. and one on his hair...

he's all dreamy, he's what summer would be like as a person. he's daylight. he's the sun. he's honey and chocolate and sweetness, stars and scars and silk, he's laugh and desire and passion. and he's all yours.

[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.

[hellfirebabe666]

Can I See You Sometime?

Steve Harrington x Reader

warnings: none to report. just a shy-ish Steve. nondescript reader word count: 600+

Steve had his eyes on the pretty bookstore employee and he finally took his chances...

There was nothing I hated more than the bitter cold months early in the year in Hawkins. It was something I could never get used to despite having moved here 5 years ago. It was probably my least favourite part of the year.

It was a typical Monday and you were on your way to the bookstore I worked for. It was mid day before any real customers came in. I spent most of your shift organizing and putting away new inventory. The bell in the door chimes as I’m in the middle of sorting through a box of new books when someone clears their throat.

I glance up to be greeted by a boy with some of the most perfectly quaffed hair I had ever seen along with big brown eyes that looked like a puppy. "Uh, hi. I was looking for this Stephen King book," He is looking down at a piece of paper reading off the title to the book Carrie. I nodded, "Oh we just got that in yesterday follow me!" I say with a small smile heading over to the counter and beginning to head to the back room where a new box of that very book was sitting sealed in the back.

I quickly grabbed a copy after unsealing the box and came back out seeing the boy who seemed so familiar whom I couldn't quite place nervously looking around. "Here we are," I say setting the book on the counter, "Was that going to be everything you needed?" I asked tilting my head to the side observing him. He glanced at me and gave a small smile "Awesome great. Yeah this will be it," he said drumming his fingers on the counter as I quickly ring him up.

"So, I was wondering," He begins as before I could read his total. "I know this is going to sound incredibly random and I totally don't want to freak you out, but I think you're kind of cute and I was curious if you maybe were interested in going out some time?" He said quickly a nervous edge to his voice. I look at him slightly surprised. Then I realize whom I was looking at. He was one of the clerks over a Family Video on the other side of the shopping center. I had seen him every so often when I went in to browse.

I was taken aback considering other times when I appeared in store he appeared to be chatting up a pretty girl about the latest Molly Ringwald film. I look at him seeing that he's anxiously waiting some sort of response to the burning question on his mind. I give a small smile and shrug my shoulders, "Sure I mean, why not? Of course if I do go out with you, I fully expect to have the ability to take advantage of your Family Video discount."

He huffs out a small laugh, "Sure sweetheart, whatever you want." I giggled, "Already laying it on heavy with the pet names huh?" He shrugs, "What can I say a man can help himself around someone so cute. And in case the name on my name tag was forgettable, I'm Steve, by the way," he holds out his hand and takes mine shaking it softly, "And I look forward to our date. Can I take you out on Friday?"

"Yeah that sounds perfect," I say and soon we finish up the transaction and Steve grabs his book with a receipt slipped in with my phone number before heading out the door giving me a quick wave before he leaves. I see him making his way to his car through the glass door and seeing him subtly punching his fist into the air. I couldn't help the smile.

[zombbean]

YCH for sale of everyone's dorky DnD nerd. Steve joins him in one of em.

If you wanna bid on it, head over to my Twitter: (Link)