Steve Harrington X Reader - Blog Posts

STRANGER THINGS MASTERLIST

Hello! My name is Kandi and I am an aspiring author. In this masterlist you can find all my works for this series linked under their respective characters. I write for the characters listed but I will make exceptions if requested. Thank you and happy reading!

STEVE HARRINGTON

-coming soon!

BILLY HARGROVE

-coming soon!

EDDIE MUNSON

-coming soon!

ROBIN BUCKLEY

-coming soon!

NANCY WHEELER

-coming soon!

JONATHAN BYERS

-coming soon!

JIM HOPPER

-coming soon!

JOYCE BYERS

-coming soon!

WILL BYERS

-coming soon!

JANE "ELEVEN" HOPPER

-coming soon!

MIKE WHEELER

-coming soon!

LUCAS SINCLAIR

-coming soon

DUSTIN HENDERSON

-coming soon!

MAX MAYFIELD

-coming soon!

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

-coming soon!

This masterlist along with my others will be updated any time a new fic drops or is in the process of being worked on.

me after reading the most jaw dropping, toe curling, dirty slutty one way ticket out of heaven description that would disgrace my entire family line then accidentally clicking continue reading.

Nightmares.

HEYYYY! I can't tell whether I love this one shot or actually despise it- but anyway I wanted to post so there ya go! hope you enjoy!!!!!

P.S: Remember you can give requests whenever you want, I'm sure I will get round to them!

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have recuring dreams about eddie, your best friend's, death and you go to your loving boyfriend for help.

Warnings: minor panic attack, death, crying, mentions of funerals, my writing

Steve was fast asleep after a long day’s work when he got woken up by the sound of soft knocks through his window. He slowly opened his eyes and saw you with tears streaming down your face. Steve scrambled himself out of bed, throwing the covers off of him and going over to the window, pulling it open and pulling you into his arms. He stroked your hair as you pull yourself closer to him, whimpering in his arms “shh, shh it’s okay, you’re okay” He whispered to you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s my f-fault, I didn’t- “ You tell him, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. You had been having consistent nightmares for weeks ever since that night with Eddie...and the bats. You would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, with tears running down your cheeks. They’re normally bad, but this was the worst one by far. Sou had been trying to stay awake to avoid the dreams and reminders that your best friend was gone, but as soon as you got home from work that day you couldn’t take it and fell asleep on your floor with your book in hand only to be greeted with the same recurring dream. Steve had offered for you to stay at his house till the dreams stopped as he could normally soothe you back into your normal sleep patterns with dreamless sleep, but you declined telling him that ‘you didn’t want to intrude’. “You didn’t do what, baby?” he spoke softly to you, not wanting to upset you anymore than you already were.

“I- I didn’t try to stop him... I didn’t protect him!” You admit to him as your breathing started to pick up again. Steve’s heart broke a little at you, telling him that, looking down at you with saddened eyes, he tucked a piece of your loose hair behind your eyes. “no, Eddie wanted to protect you, that’s why he went to distract them,” Steve told you with a sad smile and pulling your head towards his chest as he knew you liked to listen to his heartbeat. You didn’t say anything and just softly cried into his chest as he stroked your hair and whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You were very grateful to Steve. He was always there for you no matter what and would always calm you down when you needed it.

“Shh, baby, remember what we talked about? In and out, that’s it” Steve showed you that to do feeling you follow along with him and your crying starts to stop and your breathing starts to slow.

“I miss him...” You tell Steve weakly as you had now stopped crying and were now just liking Steve’s touch. “Shh, know you do baby, we all do..” Steve sighed, kissing your temple once again

“His funeral’s coming up, i dont know if anyone’s gonna come..” You sigh softly into steve’s shirt

“I know, at least he’ll have all the people who actually care about him there instead of a bunch of nobody’s, right?” Steve asked, looking down at you a little, getting a nod in return from you.

“Yeah that’s true, he didn’t like many people anyways… I have to write a speech for it and i dont know what to say.”

“I think you should just speak from the heart, share a few memories? You know, that sorta’ stuff!” 

“Yeah, yeah, he’d like that.” You nodded to yourself, agreeing with Steve and his ideas.

“I think I’m gonna wear that tux you like, but Eddie did say that it looked stupid,” Steve chuckled, thinking back to the memory. “He didn’t think you looked stupid, he was only making fun,” You told Steve, smiling up at him and joining in on the laughter.

“What are you thinking about wearing?” Steve asked, tilting his head slightly.

You think for a moment; you had been tossing between ideas for a while now but none seemed as perfect as one.

You smiled saying to Steve, “You know that little black dress he always liked? The one he said I had to take off before our first date because ‘it was too scandalous’? Think i might tease him with that one” 

“That is such a good idea, he’d hate us” You both laugh together remembering your friend.

After a few moments of silence you speak up, “I’m so tired..can we go to sleep?”

Stevenodded to you and picked you up and took you over to his bed and set you down softly where you fell asleep almost instantly.

Steve looked at you with loving yet sad eyes, he hated that you had to feel like this. You had just lost your best friend of sixteen years and no one knew the real reason other than the party and everyone involved in the incident a few weeks back.

“I love you baby, he loves you too..I know he’s so proud of you..and so am I.” Steve whispered as he drifted off with you.

INTRODUCTION/MASTERLIST

Hiya!!! I’m Angel, I’m a wanna be writer who honestly doesn’t know what to do with her life so I fantasise over fictional characters,,, Just like everyone else on this app!

P.S: If you wanna send me requests on what to write, go for it! I will read them no matter how detailed!!!

Who Do I Write For?

Stranger Things

Mike Wheeler ✿ ❖

Lucas Sinclair ✿ ❖

Steve Harrington ✿ ❖

Eddie Munson ✿ ❖

(I am willing to try writing for other people but it may not be as up to standard as my mains)

The Umbrella Academy

Five Hargreeves - ✿ ❖ ★

Diego Hargreeves ✿ ❖ ★

Ben Hargreeves (Sparrow! or Umbrella!) ✿ ❖ ★

(I am willing to try writing for other people but it may not be as up to standard as my mains)

Marvel

bucky barnes ✿ ❖ ★

peter parker (andrew and tom) ✿ ❖ ★

(plus anyone else bc i dont care) ✿ ❖ ★

What Do I Write?

Fluff ✿

Angst ❖

Smut ★

dear, fanfic writers not every girl in the world is white, skinny, and has blue eyes and straight hair

please be more considerate that they are poc and other people of color who read fanfics

not everyone is a female. Males read them to as well like non-binary and genderfluid people

if it is an x-reader DONT USE YOUR OC nor do you USE THE WRONG TAGS

it is so annoying to search up a x-reader to see some basic ass oc

dont waste people’s time tagging the wrong on please just don’t

this is kind of off topic but DONT ASK WHEN A STORY IS BEING UPDATED

Steve Harrington would spoil you with free samples at scoops ahoy, he would be GENEROUS with the amount of ice cream per samples.

He gets very embarrassed when you see him in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, the hat the most. He refused to tell you where he worked. Robin had to tell you and boy was he embarrassed to see you walk in. He hid in the back room.

That man is very protective over his hair. You would NOT be able to touch it at all. He wants to keep it perfect, farrah fawcett isn't free.

Steve Harrington heavily believes in chivalry, he gives his all. He's the type to try opening a door but push it the wrong way. He'd also probably bang his head on a few doors.

You'd have to force him to watch movies, despite him working at a VHS shop. He does not have the attention span. Even if he did watch it he would focus on something else then tell you he didn't like the movie.

Steve harrington would take you on drives. He likes the fresh air and placing leg or thigh. But if you'd try to acknowledge it he would akwardly move it and try to play it off.

He'd support you through college. Although he didn't want to go to college, he would miss you SO MUCH. He would call every day and send you love letters but poorly written.

Shackled To You

Eddie Muson x Reader

Part 2 to ‘Broken Nails and Broken Promises’

🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀

Prologue:

Eddie Muson was a pain in Jim Hoppers ass, but when the boy comes to him broken and desperate to fix your relationship; the older man literally has no choice but to help.

Warnings:

angst, hurt, comfort, slight reader x Steve, Father figure Hopper, mentions of drunks and alcohol, mentions of violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Here we go y’all, part 2. I hope you enjoy!

Please send me some requests! I need inspiration I’ll write for pretty much any character as long as I know enough about them ☺️🥹

🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀

Eddie lays uncomfortably on Jim Hopper's couch. Lumps and bumps wreaking havoc on his body, the smell of old beer and sweat invading his senses. His left arm lay above him, cold metal of Hoppers cuffs biting at the skin of his wrist, the other side securing Eddie into this position.

Jim had cuffed Eddie to his couch, haphazardly tossing the boy a musky blanket and floppy pillow.

”Sleep.” Hop demanded of Eddie, tightening the cuff around a single wrist. A precaution just in case Edddie tried to run, tried to get to you before Hop could get a read. Hop couldn't risk that, he would never admit it out loud, but you're the best thing that ever could have come into Eddie’s life. Ever since you two have started dating, most of Eddie's nights have been spent with you. Walks through the dark and empty Main Street of Hawkins, gatherings with friends and family, late nights spent wrapped in each other's arms. These days Eddie was always with you, present and accounted for.

Yes, Hop had begun to enjoy his quiet nights now that Eddie Munson, the devil of Hawkins, was preoccupied by the angle on his shoulder. You kept him in check, something Hopper and the entire Hawkins PD couldn’t manage.

“And before you argue, you don’t have a choice.” The older man sighed as he swept his keys and wallet from the dining room table. Gesturing a point finger at the boy, tone stern and eyes serious.

“You sleep. I'll get eyes on the girl.”

Hop was expecting Eddie to throw one of his usual smart ass remarks his way. But was met with silence as the younger man stared off into space, seemingly weighing his options to his predicament. Eyes blurry with sleep and body heavy with fatigue. He was exhausted, yet sleep evaded him. Without you next to him, your soft body pressed against his, heat emanating off every curve. Your sweet scent filling his lungs, swirling his mind into a fuzzy haze. What was the point of even trying? It hadn’t even been a full day and already Eddie felt he was going mad. His every thought is consumed by you.

When Hopper returned an hour later, having spotted you downtown with Steve, arm in arm as you skipped into the video store. Eddie still hadn’t slept. Eyes wide and wild when the door is kicked open. Rusted hinges squeaking in distress as the split wood made contact with the nicotine stained walls. A large thud echoing throughout the small house.

“I thought I told you to sleep?” Hop interrogated, looking down at Eddie as he shook his head a soft, sad smile pulling at his lips. Hopper has to admit, the boy looked like crap. Dark bags had formed predominantly under Eddied eyes, Skin clammy and somehow even paler than usual. His body lay heavy on top of the worn cushions, long limbs stretched in every direction. Eddie's hands kept fiddling with his rings, fingers shaking as they rotated the cold metal around each digit, before moving to tug at the strands of unruly hair. The sting on his scalp comforted him. A grounding mechanism he had developed when he was young, the pain bringing him back to reality. Pulling him away from the floating feeling that had encompassed his weak body, it wasn’t enough. Eddie began to rub his hands over his face aggressively, as his breathing started to waver. Mumbling to himself as he pinched harshly at the soft skin of his cheeks, causing small red blemishes to form. He felt numb, the sharp sting from the nails now running down his face proved as a reminder. Even though his world had crumbled, his body working on autopilot while his brain went into damage repair mode, he was still alive, for now at least.

“Now.” Hopper began, standing tall in front of Eddie.

“I’m not going to uncuff you yet, mostly because I don’t want to. Partly because what I'm about to tell you may strike a nerve.” The man finished, watching closely for Eddies reaction. Now seated on the couch, legs curled under him. Hands placed on his lap, sunken eyes desperately searching Hoppers. The boy didn’t move, didn’t speak.

“I saw her walking down town with Harrington.” Hop had moved to throw his heavy body on the couch next to Eddie with an exaggerated huff.

Running a stressed hand through his hair in the process. Eddie scoffed, eyes rolling hard in his skull.

Harrington. Steve Harrington. King Steve.

The same King Steve who has an almost crippling crush on you. Eddie used to watch the way Steve's eyes never seemed to leave your frame whenever you were together. Raking over every curve and indent, burning holes through your clothes. Eddie has confronted Steve about it one drunken night in the park. Grabbing him by his collar and shoving Steve hard into the rough bark of a nearby tree. Tone cold and deadly. He would never tell Steve to leave you alone, that wasn’t Eddie's place. Eddie just gave Steve a -not so- gentle reminder that you were HIS. Patting Steve on the cheek with one hand, the other used to push Steve in the sharp bark of the tree, piercing his skin in the process.

Eddie seethed with rage at the picture of you and Steve, holding hands and laughing in the sun. Your hands roaming his skin, just like the rich boy had always wanted, always planned it seemed. Eddie's jaw clenched, body jerking in a fast motion to move up from the tattered old couch. Feet planting fast on the floor, Hoppers cuffs doing their job as the metal clanged from the tension. Eddie let out a short, sharp breath through his nostrils. Face flushed with rage and eyes boring holes into Jim.

“You see.” Hopper smirked, gesturing towards the boys trapped position.

“This is exactly why I didn’t uncuff you. What’s your plan here exactly? You gonna’ go jump Harrington in front of her, sweep her of her feet with your manly brutalistic ways?”

That’s exactly what Eddie was planning on doing.

Jim signed once more, a deep yawn rumbling through his chest. For the first time in hours, Eddie spoke. His voice came out in a harsh crack.

”I just need to talk to her. Maybe-” The boy faltered. Eyes burning with fresh tears and he swallowed back the hot bile rising in his throat.

“I just need her to know that I didn’t want what happened to happen. I froze like an idiot and now she hates me. She is probably living it up with King Steve.” The name rolled off Eddied tongue with a vicious snap.

Hopper signed again, looking up to the roof in a silent prayer. Why him? Why did Eddie have to drag him into the middle of this lovers quarrel? Teenage drama? Bullshit. That’s the word Hop landed on.

“What if I can get you two in the same room together?”

—————————————————————————-

Hopper's van pulled to a slow stop next to you, driver's side window lowering as he shouted your name, beaconing towards you. You scoffed at Hopper's story, Eddie had gotten drunk and climbed through the wrong bedroom window. Landing him in holding for the night.

“You tell Eddie that I hope he rots in a cell for the rest of his life.” You spat in Hopper's direction, feet spinning as you turned away. Hop swore under his breath. Fucking kids.

He opened the door before stepping out of his truck.

“Hey!” He yelled harshly. Jaw clenched and he spoke through his teeth. “Don’t you walk away from me young lady. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

The cool metal of the cuffs on your wrist caught you by surprise, jerking in Hooper's grasp and you kicked and squirmed, demanding to know the charges. Hopper didn’t want to use force, he just wanted to go back to bed for God sake. He put you in the back of the truck as you were demanding a lawyer. Hopper wasn’t about to let your stubbornness get in the way of him and the soft mattress.

You were placed in a holding room, chair cold and sticky as you sat waiting. You seethe in anger, how is it that the entire time you and Eddie were going around you never got stopped by the cops. But, the second you call it quits he somehow gets you arrested?! It was bullshit. And, to top things off, you didn’t even know what charges were being placed on you, being met with silence whenever you demanded to know. A fact you made evidently clear as you continued to yell in your cell.

“Hey assholes! Seriously, I didn't do anything. What did Eddie say? I wasn’t with him last night. I swear, you can ask Steve!”

The door to the room swung open as Hopper walked in, unlocking your cuffs before placing a firm hand on the table in front of you.

“Now, you're not being charged with shit okay. I just need you to keep an open mind.”

You tilted your head in confusion at Hopper's words, hands rubbing absently at your wrist.

The large metal door opened one more time revealing Eddie, shoulders slumping as he kept his gaze fixated on the floor. You snapped your head in Hopper's direction, body tensing. Hop said nothing as he strolled to the door, a light whistle emanating from his lips. You watched as the older man placed a hand on Eddie's shoulder, whispered something, then turned to meet your gaze again. A grin now planted on his face.

“Okay kiddos, you two play nice. I'll be back in an hour.” The door swung close behind the man, a sharp locking sound bouncing through the walls.

——————————————————————

You didn’t say a word as you shoved passed Eddie, hands pulling desperately at the door handle. Fists banging harshly on the cool metal when it didn’t budge. You were pulled back to reality by a cold hand on yours. Eddie’s long nimble fingers reach out to grasp at your fingertips in a desperate attempt to touch you. You pulled your hand from his so fast, clutching it to your chest as if his touch had caused blisters to form on your skin. Eddie’s stomach twists into knots. His eyes screwing shut, his hand lowered to his side, balled into a tight fist as the boy began to shake.

You turned to face him, breath catching as you took him in. Fresh tears cascading down his face, lip quivering in worry. His body trembled in place and he breathed erratically through his nose, desperately trying not to break down right there on the spot. His hair was a mess, even more so than usual, he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. A dark pit forming in your stomach as a small patch of his jeans shimmers in the dim lighting, the pink patch of strawberry lip gloss taunting you as the glitter clings to the fibers.

“Baby please-“ His voice came out in a cracked whisper.

You turned away from him, chest tightening at the sight of Eddie, your Eddie, completely and utterly wrecked. You pull your arms closer to your chest in a pathetic attempt to soothe yourself.

“Princess-“ He started again, hand coming up to comb through his hair. He didn’t move towards you, feet seemingly glued in place. You turned your face away from his, refusing to meet his eyes as he spoke.

“Sweet girl, please. I- I didn't want that to happen. Crissy she-“ He stopped again as a hiccup bubbled in his chest.

“She stopped me to ask about getting some pot. When I told her my price she was on me in seconds. I-I didn’t know what to do. I just froze.” He stopped again, eyes dragging from the floor to your feet. Slowly scanning their way up your legs, crinkling at your arms crossed heavily in your chest. His breath catches as he meets your gaze, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.

The sight was a punch to the gut for the boy, your beautiful eyes becoming puffy and red, tears tracking down your cheeks. Eddied hated himself, god he hated himself so much right now. Knowing that he was the cause of your pain, knowing he had hurt you, something he promised he would never do. He wanted to punch himself in the face. Scratch that, his fists clenched hard and his nails dug deep into his palms revelling slightly at the satisfying sting of the thin skin bursting under his nails. No, he wanted to beat the ever living shit out of himself, wanted to feel the pain that he was responsible for causing you.

You bring a hand to your nose as you sniffle, wiping away the hot tears streaming down your face. Shaking your head in disbelief. He was lying, you know what you saw.

“An-and, should have pushed her away, should have stopped it the minute I knew what was happening.” He sniffled, shuffling his feet and kicking at an invisible rock.

“I just couldn’t. I don’t know why. It’s like my brain shut down ya know?” He looked up at you again, arms wrapped around yourself. Heart hammering hard in his chest and he took one slow, cautious step towards you. Scared you would turn away from him again, fucking terrified you would just dissapear before his very eyes.

Your gaze landed on his heavy boots, slowly raising your eyes to meet his. Suddenly forgetting how to breathe as you are encased by his presence. His tall frame towering over you, hunched slightly to meet your gaze. His breath, sour and hot, a nose burning mix of smoke and vomit. His cheap cologne, mixing with his natural musk. He was everywhere, pulling at the strings of your heart as he spoke one last time.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. God I’m so fucking sorry.” He hiccuped again as he tried to find the right words. A cautious hand raising to graze your cheek, your body reacting to his touch as you nuzzled slightly into his hand. Eddie's lip quivered, you were so close yet so far away, you were the hammering of his heartbeat in his chest. You were the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins. You were his everything, his knees buckling slightly and a whimper pulling from his chest as you took a step towards him, closing the gap between you.

He sniffles as he brings left hand up to mirror his other. Holding your face so gently in his calloused hands. His rings cool your flushed skin as you meet his gaze, eyelashes fluttering. This was Eddie's last chance.

“I’m not here asking you to forgive me. An-and if you still want nothing to do with me after this I'll leave you alone. You won't see me again I promise. Baby girl, you are my whole world. When you showed up it's like my whole life switched to colour after being nothing but grey. You're too good for me, I know that.” He shakes his head slightly, shaking the thought from his skull.

“But I promise you this, I will spend every second of every minute of every day making it up to you. I’ll get clean, won't sell to no one anymore I-“

Eddie’s desperate rambles we’re silenced by the sweet touch of your soft lips on his. Your hands pulling him by the collar of his shirt, having heard enough, having seen enough. You touch, your sweet sweet touch. As you run your left thumb over his cheek, he breaks. A sickening crack as his knees collide with the hard concrete of the floor, buckling from the soft, sweet warmth of your touch. His body shaking as sobs wrecked through him, arms wrapping softly around your legs.

You peer down at him, hand coming up to run softly through his hair. He pulled you closed, muscles of his arms tensing, straining against the thin seams of his shirt. Your body sinks to the floor next to Eddie,your gaze pulling him in.

“Oh Eddie-.” You whispered breathily, a small sign escaping you. Arms raising to wrap around the boys shaking shoulders, pulling him to your chest as he curled into you.

No words were spoken as you allowed Eddie to pull you in, time passed slowly as Eddie's mind cleared. The sobs that once wrecked him left him tired and sore, desperate for your touch. You knew there was much more to discuss, but for now you're reveling in the feeling of Eddie, your Eddie.

And that’s how Jim Hopper found the two of you. Edward Muson, the devil of Hawkins, curled up asleep in your lap as you sat on the cold, dirty ground of the holding cell.

Soft snores and quiet whispers escaping his chapped lips as you run your fingers through his hair, a content smile on your face as Hopper opens the door.

Hopper couldn’t help the small smile tugging on his lips when he opened the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised as you sheepishly smiled up at him as he spoke;

“Tell him when he wakes up, drinks are on me.”

End.

———————-

Tags;

@ali-r3n @iyskgd @am0iur

Steve showed us that your never to young to be a mommy

"He's an idiot." Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6k

❥ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sweet!Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being stood up by Eddie Munson, you run into Steve Harrington on the walk home from the trailer park. He lends you listening ear and a ride—and instead of taking you home, he takes you to his.

❥ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MDNI! 18+ content! Explicit language. Smut with undertones of fluff, and a little angst (if you squint). Unprotected penetrative sex, f!receiving oral sex, past casual relationship with Eddie.

❥ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first post, nerve wracking as hell !! I think I got a bit carried away !

You stare at the phone blankly after hanging it up. It was a call that you had been all but unfamiliar with receiving, but it conflicted you all the same each time. And always went the same way. He would make fake niceties, ask you shallow questions about your day and try to keep up some small talk before, inevitably, asking the same damn question. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?”

You huffed in annoyance each time, making a half-hearted attempt to resist and trying to conjure up some lame excuse not to, but each time you would end the call with a reluctant ‘Fine, Eddie, I’ll be there.’ You hated yourself for being persuaded so easily. It was basically routine at this point, and it was stupid of you to even pick up the phone in the first place. As soon as you heard his voice on the other line, you should’ve hung up on him. You always think these things are so easy to do until you have to do them, until you hear his sultry voice pleading on the other end of the phone for just one more time. You let yourself think, in that moment, that maybe it’ll be different for once. It’s a stupid, short-lived belief.

Even so, you find yourself sat in front of your vanity again, brushing your hair and curling your eyelashes in hopes of impressing him. Maybe if your cheeks are a little more rosy, your eyelids a little more colourful, he might change how he feels about you. He might come to the revelation that he wants more than just sex this time. You know your efforts are futile, as long as your clothes are easy to take off he couldn’t care less about anything else, but it makes you feel better for a few moments to let yourself believe otherwise is true. You reluctantly slip on a matching set of underwear, lacy and baby pink. Very intentional. You know you look good, and you know that Eddie will appreciate it. You realize that this is the reason he expects the same thing every time—because you deliver it. You curse yourself for it. Shaking the thought from your head, you step into a short pink dress, throwing a cable-knit cardigan on top. 

You try not to think as you walk down the stairs, out of your house, and down the street to his. You consider turning back about a million times, but you end up at his trailer before you can actually muster the courage to do it. You knock on the door a couple times, waiting patiently, stupidly, for a response. Then again when you don’t receive an answer, the action proving ultimately as useless as the first one. You raise onto your tiptoes to try peek through the window, and you find that the trailer is completely empty inside. Your face grows warm as you look around the trailer park, realizing no one is around or waiting for you. 

Tears threaten your eyes, and you forcefully blink them away before they get the chance to well. You shake your head, promising yourself that you won’t be brought down by the behaviour of Eddie Munson. Not again. You turn and make your way back down the street, your shoulders slumping. The street is desolate and lifeless, the late hour clearing the pedestrians from wandering and leaving you alone on the road. That is, until headlights shine from behind you, casting your shadow on the concrete front of you. 

A familiar burgundy BMW slows as it approaches, stopping beside you. The tinted window rolls down, and you’re met with the face of Steve Harrington. You brush a stray hair from your face, then attempt to clean the smudged mascara from beneath your eyes with the knuckle of your thumb.

“Hey, L/N,” he drapes his arm over the door, “what are you doing out here?” he asks, his eyebrow cocked as he looks up and down the dark street. You’re slightly surprised to hear the concern in his voice. Although, you suppose, you’ve seen him around and you hang around a lot of the same people. Besides, it’s kind of impossible to roam the halls of Hawkins High School and never hear the name King Steve. You’ve had quite a bit of interaction with this boy, but the significance of your friendship only really occurs to you the moment that he stops his drive to talk to you. 

You shrug your shoulders, and you feel your cheeks grow rosy as you realize you have to find a way to avoid telling him the truth for the sake of your own dignity. He raises an eyebrow at you, “It’s late, you know,” he says, pointing out the obvious. You feign a small, agreeing smile, nodding your head as you avert your gaze to the ground. You open your mouth to speak, hesitating when you try to figure out what to say, “I know. I, um,” you shake your head, “I was just on the way home.”

He’s clearly dissatisfied with your response, concern still evident on his face when he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “That’s awfully vague,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Here, you want a ride?” he asks, gripping the stick shift and switching back into drive, his gaze unwavering. 

You blink at him, slightly surprised by the invitation, “No, that's okay, Steve.”

You purse your lips into a polite smile, and he gives you a disapproving frown along with a quick, dismissive shake of his head. He opens the door opposite to him, a gesture for you to get in. His tone is persistent but gentle, “Come on.” He cocks his head toward the empty seat beside him, “Let me at least get you off the street. You can chill at my place, just to… you know, not be alone.”

You carefully consider his offer, pulling your lower lip between your teeth in thought, a subconscious attempt to suppress the smile that tries to pull your cheeks. You dip your chin, soon decidedly trotting your way around the front of his car and slipping through the passenger door. His arm crosses your body as he shuts it beside you with a soft thud, before he returns his grip back to the steering wheel. You lay your hands in your lap, watching yourself fiddle with your fingers. It’s hard not to think about the fact that you’ve never been alone with this boy. The car is quiet for a beat, the low hum of the engine bringing ambience to the space. You realize that you feel a bit less lonesome now, being in this car with him. A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you wonder if he knows that he’s saved you from a harrowing, pitiful night at home alone. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, needlessly ashamed to say it. 

He shakes his head, “Don’t mention it,” he says as he turns to look at you, his expression curious once again. “Where were you coming from?” 

You scrunch your nose and bring your gaze back down to your nervous, fidgeting fingers. “Nowhere,” you lie, the familiarity of embarrassment crawling up your neck. 

He gives you a comforting half-smile, his eyes shifting back to the road now that he has you talking, the engine turning and thrusting the vehicle forward. “No, come on.”

You hide your face with your hands, an action you realize is meaningless as he’s not even looking at you anymore, “God, it’s embarrassing.”

He smiles amusedly when he senses your unease. He remains wordless, the quiet itself urging you to continue. “I went to… um, Eddie’s place.” The words leave your mouth reluctantly, humiliating and heavy on your tongue. 

You see his eyes widen a bit as he processes what you’ve said. “No kidding,” He says with a scoff, disbelief heavy in his voice. “Munson?”

Your chest tightens, and you’re unsure if you’re more ashamed by your actions or Steve’s reaction. “Yes, Munson,” you huff, “but nothing happened.” 

He seems to lose some amusement from your clarification, potentially hoping for a juicier outcome. To your surprise, he doesn’t press any further. You were glad to see him bring his focus back to the road, going back to quietly navigating the stark streets for the remainder of the drive. You watch the unlit houses go by through the window, cruising by streets you only faintly recognize. Before you know it, Steve is pulling into his driveway and leading you up the small steps to his front door. He coolly unlocks it and opens it for you, welcoming you into the darkness of his living room. Light creeps in from a small light in the kitchen, allowing you to just barely make out the outline of his furniture.

You squint your eyes, lingering in his foyer once you’ve hung up your sweater. He sets down his keys and heads towards his staircase. “Are your parents home?” you ask tentatively.

“Nope,” he replies, “they’re in Chicago for the weekend.”

He throws the words away, moving into his house without a second thought, apparently used to being alone. It’s only when he disappears into the kitchen that you think to catch up to him, finding him with a crisp can of Coke already opened. He leans against the open door of his refrigerator, his head tipping back as he takes a swig. You stand in the doorway, your eyes trailing up his exposed neck, moles sparsely trickling along his flesh and adams apple as it bobs with deep gulps. Your eyes snap back to his face when he speaks again, “Want something to drink?” 

You shake your head and murmur a sheepish ‘That’s okay, thank you’. He nods and moves past you, travelling across the long distance between his kitchen and his living room. You follow behind him, your head turning every which way to take in his house. It’s spacious, tasteful, but you can’t help but notice its overbearing hollowness. The halls are empty and dark, any sign of liveliness or family apparently absent. You wonder how often his parents must be gone for the house to be this pristine, practically untouched. You clear your throat, taking a seat next to him on the couch, sure to keep a safe distance between the two of you. 

“What were you doing at Eddie’s house?” Steve questions you again, breaking the silence and setting his elbows on his knees. You recognize an edge that suggests more than just innocent curiosity; an insistence that makes you wonder if he’s truly interested in your answer rather than simply enticed by the gossip. 

“Um,” you wet your lips, “he wasn’t even there, actually.” Your mouth dries up as you say it, the reminder digging a pit in your stomach. He tilts his head to the side, clearly not understanding.

“Hm? Why not?” 

You raise your shoulders, letting out a soft, defeated sigh. “He was supposed to be.”

Uncertainty flickers on his face, and his expression softens when he realizes the implication. “Oh,” he utters, his voice quieter now, “I see.” He leans back against the couch, looking down at his lap. 

“It’s not a big deal,” the words tumble out, quick to reassure him. “We’re not, like, together or anything. Just… kinda sucks.” His eyes find yours as you speak, actively searching for any sign of doubt on your face. You press your lips together, “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” he nods slowly, not entirely convinced of your apathy. “Well, he’s a dick, you hope you know.” 

Your lips curl, eased by his attempt to sympathize with your being stood up. You wave him off. “Oh, whatever.” 

“Seriously,” he persists, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip of his Coke.

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s Eddie.”

“I guess. Still a dick move,” his voice softens. “I mean, no dude should get to stand anyone up.” He pauses for a moment, seemingly careful to choose the right words. “You don't deserve that. You’re… a really nice girl.”

“Nice?”

Steve keeps your gaze when he continues, “Yeah. He’s a moron.” He tsks. “If I had someone like you coming over…” He trails off, unsure of whether or not he should continue. 

“What?” you ask curiously.

“I mean—look at you. I’d be waiting at the door."

“Really?” you say. As if you need to hear it again to fully understand what he means. 

He swallows dryly, setting his can onto the coffee table and, in turn, settling closer to you. “Come on, you’re gorgeous.” He says simply. 

His leg brushes yours, and he doesn’t pull away. You nod, mostly to yourself, and try not to smile too obviously as you look down at your lap. “Thank you,” you mutter quietly enough that you’re not sure if he hears it. There’s no indication even once you look back at him, but you realize that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You feel your cheeks burn up, and you hope he doesn’t notice the pinkish-red that tends to slither up your neck when you get nervous. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times, though.”

You purse your lips, somehow embarrassed not to have been told something when you have no control over whether or not you’re told. You try to shrug it off, “Not really.”

Steve is visibly puzzled by this. “No?” He asks inquisitively. 

“You know,” you say, trying to feign indifference. “Eddie’s not really… a talker.”

“‘Not really a talker’? What does that mean?” he replies, as if there’s no way he could be interpreting this correctly. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, instinctually starting to feel defensive over Eddie, despite yourself.

“You know,” you say again, hoping he’ll understand before you have to say it. “Neither of us really talked. Not much opportunity for compliments.”

He scoffs, “That’s bullshit.”

You frown and swat him half-heartedly, “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not,” he raises his eyebrows and holds his hands up in a mock-surrender, “Just saying. Must’ve been real good for you to put up with all that.”

You laugh humourlessly, glancing away from him. “Yeah, you’d think so.”

His eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of your crypticity. It only takes him a second, and his eyes flit back to yours. He cocks his head. “He wasn’t?” he asks lightly, trying to sound casual though the interest in his eyes isn’t exactly subtle.

You don’t want to offer anything more, admittedly embarrassed to elaborate. You figure he can read between the lines, but his gaze is unwavering, still curious. You hesitate before you continue, “I don’t know.” Part of you wants to protect Eddie’s intimate life for the sake of his privacy, while the other doesn’t really care after what he pulled tonight. Decidedly, you go with the better part. “It was never really about me.”

“What, you mean, he never, like… you never—” he breaks, his eyebrows raising as it dawns on him, “Oh.”

You’re grateful that he’s not judgmental about it, just surprised. Possibly even for your sake. Silence hangs between the two of you for a moment, not particularly uncomfortably, before he breaks it again. “Wow, that sucks.” All you do is tighten your lips and nod agreeingly. “You deserve, um,” he stops to weigh his words, “You should be with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means. He’s searching your face, as if he’s still trying to decide something, and his eyes dip to your mouth almost imperceptibly. He sets his hand onto your knee, gingerly, giving you the opportunity to pull away from him. You don’t. 

You let out a nervous exhale as he leans closer to you, the distance between you closing further and further. Once his mouth meets yours, it’s drastically different from the hungry, lustful make-outs you’d shared with Eddie. He presses softly, his lips moving cautiously, still proposing a question. He breaks the kiss, just for a moment, only leaving an inch or two between you. Another opportunity to let you pull away if you wanted to. Once he sees that you don’t, his hand moves to cup the side of your face, and he kisses you again with more fervour. Though his lips are still moving with care, gentleness, there is more intent behind it. He’s eager. 

You shift closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you rest your hand on his leg. His tongue brushes along your bottom lip, a silent request meant to coax it open. You answer it, slipping your tongue alongside his. You still yourself, suddenly unsure, and wonder if you’re moving too quickly. You’re not sure of how far he’s meaning to take it, or whether or not the kiss was supposed to mean anything at all. Your answer comes soon after when his hand trails carefully up your thigh, deliberate and certain. You lean into his touch, and he gently pulls you into his lap. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, and he places both hands on the small of your back. You sigh softly against his mouth, moving your hands to both sides of his neck and drawing him impossibly closer. 

The skirt of your dress gathers around your thighs when your front presses flush to his, your legs spread across his lap. His hands travel to your bare thighs before he stops himself at the hem of your dress. He lets out a careful exhale, pulling his lips from yours and searching your eyes. Your noses still touch, his breath fans hotly against your face, and you bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you whisper reassuringly, answering the question he hasn’t yet asked aloud. 

“No, I…” he trails off, his eyes flicking to the ceiling. He swallows once, then utters quietly, “Upstairs?” 

The single word earns a fervent nod from you, and you lift yourself from his lap, offering your hand to him. He hastily takes it, moving in front of you to lead you out of the living room and up his staircase. Once you’ve made it to his room, he shuts the door behind him with a quiet ‘click’. He crosses the room with only a couple strides, his hands again holding your face and bringing you into another kiss before you can even make it to the bed. He walks you backwards and only breaks away from your lips once the back of your legs bump against it, then he lowers you gently on top of his rumpled bedspread. As he crawls over you, his lips attach to your neck and kisses tenderly along your jaw. 

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours to take a second to catch his breath. His hand rubs the fat of your thigh, hesitating when it traces the hem of your dress. You place your hand on his and guide it higher up your leg. 

Steve sits back for a brief moment to swiftly pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside and causing it to pile in a heap on the floor. He leans back down for another kiss too quickly for you to properly see him, so you resort to instead moving your hands to run delicately along his stomach and up to his chest. He grasps your thigh and hikes it up to his hip, opening your body against him. His hips rut gently against yours just once, and you can tell that he’s making an effort to restrain himself. The growing tent in his jeans rubs roughly against you even after he stops moving. His hand wanders further up your thigh, skimming the bottom of your dress and pausing, almost waiting for you to stop him. Yet again, you don’t. Instead, you raise your arms to allow him to peel it over your head and discard it to the floor, just as his shirt was. 

Your face grows hot when you’re left bare underneath him. As he leans back onto his knees, you see his breath hitch in his throat when the lingerie that you initially put on for Eddie is revealed. His hands instinctively move to your hips, tracing his fingers along the lacy material that clings to your curves, his eyes still fixated on your body.

The longer he stares, the more self-conscious you feel, even if it only lasts for a second. “What?” you ask sheepishly, pulling your knees together in a half-hearted attempt to close yourself off. 

“Nothing,” he responds quickly, his eyes darting back to yours, “It’s just… Eddie’s an idiot.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips, your hands reaching out to pull him back in for a kiss—partly to stop him from staring much longer. Obviously, that’d been the reaction you’d hoped for, but you’d gotten so used to being stripped so hurriedly that it was surprising to be given more than a few seconds before rushing to the ‘good part’.

 His hands continue to admire your body when his eyes can’t, moving along your waist and eventually cupping your breast. His thumb brushes over the hardened peak of your nipple through the thin material, the sensation causing a shudder to run down your spine. Your back arches into him responsively, along with a quiet moan that’s muffled by his mouth. 

His lips travel down to your neck and press hotly below your ear, tenderly making their way down to your chest. His erection rubs evidently against your inner thigh. Despite himself, he doesn’t grind or urge against you. He still takes his time to plant gentle, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, lower, lower, lower…

Faint pants escape from your lips, your chest rising and falling heavily. His lips press between your breasts, trailing down to your belly button, to the soft plush of your inner thigh. You gasp softly, a chill running through your body when he presses a feathery kiss to your clothed clit. He continues to pepper light kisses on your thighs as one hand roams along the side of your body, stopping when it reaches the lace of your panties. His eyes flicker to yours, and you answer the question he means to ask with a keen nod of your head. 

A finger hooks the material, sliding them down your legs smoothly. Once they pass your thighs, knees, and ankles, he balls up your underwear and tosses it aside, then hooks his hands around your legs to pull you closer to him.

Your eyes flutter shut when he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. Your cunt pulses desperately, the almost torturous pace he’s setting already making your head spin. He evasively pulls his tongue back into his mouth, and in its place, he slides his middle finger to glide along your folds. He slips it in tentatively, his eyes wide as he looks up at you for even a semblance of hesitance or doubt. All he’s met with is the soft gasp that’s drawn from your lips, a clear green light for him to continue. Pushing deeper into your soaking entrance, his finger curls and his lips attach to your clit, suckling. This earns another gasp, the pretty noises coming from your mouth growing more consistent once his finger starts to slip in and out of you. 

His tongue swirls around your sensitive clit, and he slides his index finger alongside his middle, his thick digits already starting to stretch you out as they move with mesmerizing care. You have to make an effort not to tug too hard on his hair when your fingers thread through it, your knees draping over his shoulders. With his tongue lapping and sucking on your puffy clit, fingers curling expertly to brush against your sweet spot with every pump, you realize how badly you’d been lying to yourself about ‘not minding’ the lack thereof with Eddie. Because, Jesus, does this feel fucking phenomenal.

His free hand moves to grasp your thigh, encouraging your legs to stay open once they try to close around his head. You start to burn up from the inside, being pushed closer to the edge despite his pace that refuses to quicken to match your rapid breaths. It’s a bit embarrassing to near your orgasm so quickly before he’s even fully undressed, but it’s excruciatingly hard to focus on anything except the waves of pleasure that wade through your body. 

“Steve,” you breathe, trying to grab his attention. You tighten your fingers in his hair, a weak attempt to break him away from you, but he persists. Your skin tingles with the sensation of his tongue working against you, and the lust that blooms in your lower tummy begs you to take this further. You squirm slightly underneath him as you mewl his name once again, “Steve...” 

All he does is him in mindless acknowledgement, the sound being muffled by your cunt. Once you get him to finally pull away and look at you, he is a visionary. His lips are pink and wet, parted slightly as he gazes up to look at you. His dark hair is tousled by your eager grasp and a strand falls loosely onto his forehead. You brush it from his eyes. You truly don’t know how much longer you can wait to have him, and you find yourself driven by this burning impatience. 

You urge him to move from between your thighs, pulling him to sit up. Tucking your lower lip between your teeth, you lay him down beside you and climb on top of him, settling your knees on either side of his hips. You reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, pulling it off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. This warrants a groan to erupt from deep in his throat, his eyes taking in your bare chest as if he’s immediately committed to memorizing it for future notice. 

“So pretty…” he whispers, and it’s unclear whether or not he meant for you to hear him. 

He attaches his mouth to yours again, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your lips and explore. There’s a newfound sense of urgency now, his movements still deliberate but considerably more driven. You shift backwards to give yourself enough room to start working on his belt buckle, your fingers fumbling as if you’ve never undone a belt in your life. Then he lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down his thighs, and he’s left in nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs, the barrier between the two of you starting to dwindle. You can’t stand being naked where he remains clothed, even if it’s nothing but a pair of briefs, so your fingers move quickly to slide under his waistband. You wet your lips and tug delicately, just enough that his erection is revealed from beneath the fabric. 

You almost salivate when he springs free and weighs heavily against his stomach, a drop of precum gathered at the pink tip. You can’t help but reach to wrap your hand around him, your fingers barely meeting around his girth. His reaction is immediate; his eyebrows creasing, his lips parting with a sharp inhale, and his head tipping back against the headboard with a faint ‘thud’. You swipe the bead of arousal at the head with your thumb, before moving your hand slowly down his length. You’re only granted a stroke or two, base to tip, before he stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Easy,” he breathes, seemingly concentrated on restraining himself from ending the night right then and there. 

It’s unspoken, but there is a mutual understanding between the both of you that he needs to get inside you, like, yesterday. You lean forward, bracing yourself with one hand and arching your back somewhat purposefully, allowing you to hover above his cock. He shifts between your legs, his hand replacing yours at the base. You’re a bit embarrassed by the sheer amount of arousal that already coats his thick cockhead, though he seems to be in utter disagreement with you when he responds with a guttural groan. He aligns himself with your slick, carefully gliding the tip up and down without yet going in. 

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, despite the telling circumstances. 

“Yes, Steve,” you respond firmly, almost exasperated by his unwavering hesitancy. “I want you,” you emphasize, hoping the slight whine in your voice is enough to soothe his uncertainty. 

Luckily, those three words are all he needs to hear. Once he properly positions himself, all he says after that is a small ‘Tell me if you wanna stop’, and his hands move to steady your hips. Your eyebrows knot, and your chest swells with anticipation, even nervousness. His tender demeanor, the way he looks at you, it’s so overly different from how Eddie treated you. You wonder how you ended up here, with Steve, instead of in Eddie’s trailer as you always do. Coincidence, you suppose. If you had ended up there again, you certainly wouldn’t—

Holy fuck.

The thoughts are swept clean from your head once he guides you down onto him, your mind overcome instantly with the tantalizing stretch his cock brings upon entrance. Your nails go to grasp his shoulders, your jaw slackening with an audible gasp. Your eyes flutter open, your senses overwhelmed with the firm grip he holds on you, the grunt that falls from his lips, the air that punches from your throat with the first deep, experimental thrust. 

He holds your soft hips tightly, enough that it seems he’s keeping you from moving any more. “Jesus christ,” Steve mutters, his voice strained. “You’re so—fuck.”

You give yourself a moment to adjust, partly for his sake, especially because it seems if you move at all he’s going to fucking explode. Once you see him relax, you set a controlled pace, rolling your body against his. His eyes fixate on where you’re connected, and you watch his expression change; the light crease between his eyebrows, the lower lip that he sucks between his front teeth, his jaw that tenses visibly. It’s not long before he’s drawing small, breathy moans from you, his cockhead dragging mesmerizingly along your inner walls. 

Soon, you find yourselves in a rhythm, your bodies familiarizing themselves with each other and starting to work in tandem. Your hands slide up to the sides of his neck and you let your head fall back to look at the ceiling, your face starting to twist in pleasure. You can’t help the noises that drawl from your lips, his cock hitting the perfect spots inside you so easily. You don’t notice, but he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Sweat beading on his hairline, low groans coming from his throat as he watches your every move, the way your breasts bounce with every deep stride of your hips. He’s completely enthralled by you, your long nails clawing at his shoulders helplessly. You lean back down, your front pressed to his as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying uselessly to suppress the mewls that escape your mouth. You busy your lips by kissing along the sparse freckles on his sweat-slick skin.

“Oh, Steve,” you moan out. “Steve,” you repeat mindlessly, the word warbled by your breathlessness. There is a visceral reaction to your babbly moaning of his name, a shiver running through his body as he struggles to maintain a steady pace. 

Panting, he threads his fingers through the damp hair on the back of your head and gently pulls you forward to look at him, his eyes darting along your flush face. He brings you in for a kiss, your ability to reciprocate lasting only momentarily before you end up doing nothing more than gasping into his mouth. He curses under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut as his hand falls back down to your hip, helping to guide your unstable pace. 

With a tight grasp on you, he starts to thrust upward to meet your movement, pushing himself deeper inside you. The room fills with the sounds of skin-on-skin, and he starts to do most of the work to make up for your ever decreasing control. His thrusts don’t last long before they become erratic, his hips moving desperately and clearly starting to chase release. You cry out, your hands moving quickly to dig into his shoulders again. 

“Fuck,” he grunts in response, knitting his eyebrows together, “That feel good?” You’re unsure if the question was rhetorical, the moans that rip from your throat more than enough evidence for him, but you answer anyways. 

“Yesyesyes,” you murmur, “S’good.” You’re almost whining, the coil in your tummy starting to tighten rapidly. You turn into a hot, trembling mess on top of him, letting lewd noises wrack through your body. 

“Holy shit,” he says with a strangled groan, heavy breaths causing his chest to rise and fall against yours, his chest hair scraping between your breasts. “You’re driving me crazy,” he pants, his tip brushing deliciously against your sweet spot. 

You plead his name, pleasure blooming under your sensitive skin and spreading to the rest of your body. He surges forward to capture the noise with his mouth, the kiss only lasting a second before he breaks from your lips and presses his forehead to yours. You tense and arch almost completely against him, your thighs aquiver as you start to unravel around him, barely keeping the ability to hold yourself up on your knees.

He watches you fall apart intently, eyes blown-out with admiration. They then shut with concentration after he’s successfully ridden out your high, his face contorting blissfully as his hips stutter, a weak warning leaving his lips. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

He abruptly pulls out, only a few pumps of his hand necessary before he erupts onto his own stomach, painting his cock with shiny, white streaks that run down his length. There's a collective moment where you’re both trying to catch your breaths, struggling to find composure. Licking his lips, Steve brings his hand to brush away the baby hair that sticks to your forehead. Without realizing, he bats his eyelashes as he studies your face; your parted, puffy lips, the rosy tint to your flushed cheeks, the heave of your chest. Truthfully, you look a bit ruined. Not that he’s complaining. 

You turn over to lay flat beside him, your shoulders brushing, and stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re mildly terrified of what’s to come, how he’ll act after this. You wonder if you’ve just broken your whole dynamic by letting this happen. You trace the patterns of the small bumps on his popcorn ceiling with your eyes, and wonder whether or not he’ll treat you with the same sort of respect now that you’ve had sex with him. Going off of past experiences, you have reasonable doubt. 

You feel his eyes on you, and you turn your head to meet them. As if he’s read your mind, his lips curl slightly, reassuringly, and he slides an arm behind your head to wrap around your shoulder. You let him pull you to your side, leaning your head into his chest and resting your hand close by. His thumb draws slow circles on the tingling skin just below your shoulder, goosebumps rising in their wake. 

You catch a glance of the alarm clock across from his bed, the numbers 11:37 stare back at you in bright red. Admittedly, there’s no urgent reason for you to have to get home, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome. You mutter against his skin, not really making an attempt to move, “It’s almost midnight,” you say as more of an observation than an excuse, paying close attention to the reaction it garners.

In any situation with Eddie, this would’ve warranted a dismissive ‘why don’t you head out?’ or, on a good day, an ‘I'll drive you home.’ Amazingly, that’s not what you hear next. 

“You don’t have to go yet, do you?”

This takes you a bit off guard, the softness in his voice. Nonetheless, you answer honestly. “No, I guess not.”

“Good.”

❥ MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

"You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you" AHHHHH WTF WHO TOLD HIM HE COULD BE THIS PERFECT????

kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader

Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he takes the step up into the front door. It gets caught on the latch, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside. 

“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?” 

Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light. 

Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat. 

He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside. 

It’s good to be home. 

He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated. 

“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone. 

“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.

He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive. 

He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways. 

Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.

Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves. 

When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate. 

Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m twenty minutes away. 

You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast. 

Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently. 

You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in. 

“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness. 

You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side. 

“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.” 

You smile into his palm but don’t say anything. 

“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.

You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.

“Did you…”  Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?” 

“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”

You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”

“All dinners are your best.” 

You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.

“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.” 

“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?” 

“She won’t let me eat.” 

Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.” 

“What are you gonna do, H?”

He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, of course. What can I do?” 

He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.” 

You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for. 

“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you. 

“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.” 

Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.

“You love eggs.” 

“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks. 

“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?” 

“Avery’s always nice.” 

Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.” 

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” 

“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.” 

Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.” 

You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”

Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away. 

“You comfortable enough?” he asks. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” 

He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.” 

“But you had fun, right?” 

“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.” 

“Exhausted?” you ask. 

“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.” 

“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.” 

“You did not.” 

You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”

Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy). 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.” 

Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek. 

“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.” 

“Love you, Steve.” 

“Love you, too.”

Everybody this series is a gem.

Please go and do yourself the favour of read it it's my absolute fave and it's really worth it I promise. Sam really knows what she is doing and is pressing all the right buttons here. It has everything you need love, heartbreak, adventure, angst. And it just keeps getting better and better with every chapter.

Truly amazing!! ♥️

Upside Down Feelings

an episode-by-episode stranger things fic that incorporates the reader into the series

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (slow burn) and a casual fling with eddie munson

summary: Y/N Henderson is your typical high school girl with typical problems; falling out with her best friend, an annoying little brother, and a chronically unpopular standing in school. Little did she know that after the disappearance of Will Byres, her world would be flipped upside down.

Season One:

Chapter 1: The Disappearance of Will Byers ->

Chapter 2: The Weirdo on Maple Street ->

Chapter 3: Holly Jolly ->

Chapter 4: The Body ->

Chapter 5: The Flea and the Acrobat ->

Chapter 6: The Monster ->

Chapter 7: The Bathtub ->

Chapter 8: The Upside Down ->

Season Two ->

in the mood to write some blurbs, but idk what to write them about. if you have any ideas/requests, please send an ask in 😭

Imagine how Steve Harrington would take care of you while on your period <3

Warnings: Periods

Genre: Fluff

A/N: My first Steve imagine!! Hope y'all enjoy <3

Steve would definitely do anything you asked of him.

That's not even specific to when you're on your period.

That's a general statement.

The man worships the ground you walk on.

When you're in pain, he'll do anything he can in order to help you feel better.

So when Steve gets a call at work from you, saying that your cramps are getting bad, he'll drop everything to be with you.

Of course, not before renting a handful of your favorite movies.

He leaves an aggravated Robin alone at Family Video in order to get to you.

On the way, he picks up your favorite snacks.

Steve practically kicks your door down when he rushes inside.

You can barely get a sentence out before he's popping a movie in and cuddling up with you.

You two often cuddle like this, with you sitting on his lap, your head resting in the crook of Steve's neck.

He'll give you little forehead kisses as you watch the movie.

If he can tell you're especially in a lot of pain, he'll slowly rub your abdomen with his hand in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain.

He knows you're feeling a bit better when you relax in his grasp.

When you start to dose off, he rocks you back and forth slightly.

Once you're finally asleep, he'll gently carry you to your room and fall asleep next to you.

Masterlist 🌹

Read my rules before requesting <3

Key:

Fluff = 🌷

Hurt/Comfort = 🌙

Smut = ✨

Angst = 🥀

Softwilly

headcanons:

vamp goth!reader [🌷]

bf softwilly [🌷]

blurbs:

reader with big thighs [🌷]

tattoos [🌷]

Isaacwhy

headcanons:

bf isaacwhy [🌷]

vamp goth!reader [🌷]

blurbs:

slowdancing in the rain [🌷]

BigT

headcanons:

vamp goth!reader [🌷]

blurbs:

tanner with his glasses [🌷]

Yumi

headcanons:

vamp goth!reader [🌷]

blurbs:

pda [🌷]

Larry

headcanons:

vamp goth!reader [🌷]

bf larry [🌷]

Schlatt

Nothing yet <3

(NO LONGER WRITING CHARACTERS BELOW)

Eddie Munson

imagines:

eddie finds out you play guitar [🌷]

eddie x baker!reader [🌷]

blurbs:

pussydrunk eddie [✨]

tattoo artist!reader [n/a]

eddie being a girl dad [🌷]

baking a cake for eddie with your daughter [🌷]

Steve Harrington

imagines:

steve taking care of reader on their period [🌷]

Robin Buckley

blurbs:

stargazing with robin [🌷]