Steve Harrington X Reader - Blog Posts

I confess that I cried my eyes out reading this 😭

ALSO STEDDIE ANGST IDEA: the reader is always super supportive of the boys endeavors, she goes to all the corroded coffin shows and steve’s basketball games whatever, but the one time she has something important, they accidentally sleep through it @mysticmunson

elora elora my beloved. this is for u i love u 🤍

— poly relationship, however they have their own bedrooms for this one! for the sake of the story, anyway. fem!reader

the boys' ears perk up at the sound of your bedroom door opening. steve turns away from the stove, eddie stops chewing and lets his spoon fall onto the cereal bowl and beneath the milk that he's too distracted to frown about it. they hear your heavy footsteps, which quite sounds like feet dragging through the floor and more like stomping.

when they see you emerge, it's nothing like they expected.

while your hair is combed and your clothes flattened, your eyes resemble the long hours of weeping; from the puffy eyes, the pinkish scleras, and the loud, long sniffing. steve's excited smile falls, eddie's shoulder slumps. it's sometimes amusing how they mirror each other's expressions.

"hey," steve turns the stove off and drops the spatula on the pan, a hand reaching out towards you with his lips into an upcoming pucker. but you dodge his hand, swerving, maybe even flinching with a stoic look. his heart swells.

eddie tries next. he moves away from the kitchen island, a hand hovering at your back to place itself there but you swerve away to take the decanter off the coffee maker to pour yourself a cup.

his hand falls disappointedly down his side, his lips twitching downward, looking at steve sadly and miserably.

you ignore them both, the octave sound of hot coffee falling onto the porcelain mug filling the silence that coalesces with the tv in the back and the muffled yelling of children outside of steve's house. out the corner of your eyes, you see steve swallow thickly before he takes a plate from the rack and tilts the pan until the eggs fall onto the middle, whereas eddie hesitantly goes back to eating his cereal.

when you place it back, steve sees you debate, whether you go back up with your coffee only, or sit down with a chair between you and eddie. he makes the decision for you, wanting to know what's wrong — he slides you a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast.

you stare at it for a bit, before you finally decided to sit down and look down at your food than at steve, though you speak your gratitude through a small 'thank you,'

they decide to settle in silence, both of them eating breakfast as you slowly sink into your corner, trying your best to eat your food faster so you could just go back into your room. you only wanted silence for now, anyway. you're still upset. too upset.

but eddie, poor boy can never stand the silence, looks at you and clears his throat. "so, what'd you do yesterday, sweets? don't think stevie and i saw you the entire day."

their cluelessness ignites the vexed incendiary inside your chest. your fingers tighten around your fork, shoving an egg inside your mouth, your eye twitching and your eyebrows furrowing together slowly as you reply,

"it was fine," you say curtly, sharply. both of them taken aback by your laconic reply. eddie senses something wrong, his mind racketing through countless memories, while steve tries to stop the bomb from exploding.

"yeah?" steve spreads the butter on his toast, the rough scraping of knife against the toasted bread. "uh, where'd you go?"

he looks at eddie cautiously, who's eyebrows raise like a shrug. you stab the egg this time. "an event."

"an event?"

at this point, you're about to break the plate. you shrug, taking deep breaths. "yes."

steve wipes his fingers on a towel hanging by a knob, taking a bite of his bread. "what event? why didn't you tell us?"

maybe you could have bent the fork in half if you could. your eyebrows furrow, all of you dissolving into nothing but a vestibule of exasperation.

eddie sees it as clear as day; he knew that what steve said had struck up a mark, so he shoots him an wide-eyed 'what the fuck' kind of warning to him, the soggy cereal stopping on the left side of his cheek.

"wow, gee, i wonder why i didn't tell you," you snort, though despite that, it's absolute irritation in your voice. with a hint of sadness, eddie thinks. "maybe because i told you, like, everyday of the fucking week. maybe even the night before that event."

it clicks to steve, only then, that you actually did tell him. and eddie, who's expression has fell similarly to his when it comes to a realization.

"i was thinking maybe you guys would have remembered because you promised." you continue, barely looking at them in the eyes, like they're embedded between the hills of your egg. "but maybe, maybe you guys didn't remember. so i guess it's my fault that i didn't fucking tell you about it,"

"babe, i—" steve looks forlorn. you don't feel guilty about it at all. maybe a little, even though your voice had been soft yet somehow sharp, because you really are upset. you had every right to be.

eddie reaches out to hold your hand but you flinch and he thinks he could have just sobbed in his seat. "sweetheart, we must have slept in. i- we're sorry."

"no, you're not," you can't help but sniff and blink from something that stings your eyes, pushing the plate of eggs away.

"we are, baby, hey–" steve rounds over the counter so that he could kneel in front of you. eddie, who's got no clue how to deal with this situation, decides to kneel beside him. "baby, come on..."

you look away from them with a small whimper, your bottom lip wobbling. "i just thought, maybe, you guys would have done the same thing. come to this event and be there, y'know? and i just- i just kept waiting and waiting–"

"and we're complete idiots," you feel eddie take your hand. you know it's him because you feel the roughness on his ever-loving fingertips that dotes heat over your trembling hand. "we slept in, (y/n)."

steve nods. "we slept in and we're idiots." he rephrases. he doesn't like the way eddie had said their reason, and pinches his thigh. he winces quietly that you miss. "that's– that's not a good reason. in fact, we shouldn't even be reasoning at all,"

then, it comes as a jagged whisper. it's a blunt knife that pierces deadly through a heart. "i just thought that maybe i was as important as you said i am."

the two boys quiet down and stare defeatedly, both rocking back from their weakened knees.

"you are important,"

"steve—"

"punch me in my goddamn head if i ever made you feel like you're not important."

and eddie, ever the jest, knocks his shoulder against steve's. "in fact, do it now. now baby, he's an idiot. he deserves it."

"you're just as much as an idiot as i am,"

"just stop," you dig the heels of your palms on your eyes, your chest heaving.

none of it is helping; normally, a thing like this was something you were just gonna brush off. but they'd promised, and you expected, and then all you felt was disappointment and utter shame. and now you're mad, because you feel that way and because they'd been the one to make you feel that way.

you're mad because they made you wait for nothing.

eddie's whiskey eyes are sorrowful at his mistake. it's a sight that makes you cry abruptly, looking away from them and hiccuping into your damp palms. steve's hands reach up to tug on your wrists and wipe your fat tears with his thumb, eddie standing up to move behind you and to wrap his arms around your neck to keep you close.

"stopping, baby," steve leans up to kiss your forehead. "stopping. we're stopping, honey, i'm so sorry,"

"it won't happen again," eddie's lips move against the hair on your temple as he spoke, his mouth puckering to leave the faintest kiss ever. steve picks up a tissue somewhere above the counter and wipes your tears. "i promise you, princess,"

"we promise," steve wipes gently under your nose. you let him, clasping weakly onto eddie's forearm around you. "we love you, okay? you're important to us,"

you sniffle, the slightest scrunch on your nose. your proclamation is baulky as you say, "i still don't forgive you,"

"you don't have to," eddie swerves in front of you to face you again, placing his hands on your arms and massaging them. "not right now, at least."

the sigh you admit reassures them, even the small smile that paints your tear-stained face. the two boys come up to kiss each cheek, making you giggle; forgiveness is yet to be built, but you know they're willing to work for it.

Steve is so mean... 😫 I think I would panic if I was laying down beside him too 😂

omg scenario #1 with steve, i'll die 😩

thank you for your request ♥ please don't die, love u

[Sleepovers were something we usually did back then. But now that we’re adults, I can’t keep my mind straight with your chest/back pressed into me like that, and your hair splayed over the pillows.]

"Stop moving around," Steve pleads, voice low and husky with exhaustion.

It's a valid thing to ask, you must admit. The bed is warm, the pillow under your head is comfy, and the room is not too dim nor too bright — it's pleasantly dark, just how you like it. Paired up with the sound of soft rain coming from outside, it's a sanctuary for sleeping, one might say.

One who's not lying in the same bed as Steve Harrington, that is.

It was much easier when you were both little, just two friends sleeping together innocently, no confusing feelings or inconvenient thoughts getting in the way. Now all you've got are inconvenient thoughts and confusing feelings.

Steve's not one to make things easier, of course. He is totally oblivious to the effect it has, he must be. Otherwise, he wouldn't be lying so close to you, wouldn't have brushed your hair out of the way and certainly wouldn't be breathing against the back of your neck now, slowly and maddeningly.

You shift restlessly; you can't help it. The immediate response you get is a groan of protest as Steve leans in closer, the tip of his nose touching your warm skin. You breath catches. In your mind, you're swearing enough to put a sailor to shame.

"Y/N."

"Sorry."

His hand slides innocently down your side, fingertips touching your rib. Oh shit, you think, biting the inside of your cheek. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"You're all tense," he observes. It's a little unnerving to hear his voice in the dark. Not seeing him, but knowing exactly where he is, where your body ends and his begins.

"Sorry," you say again. You're not very confident you can form any other words at this point.

"Stop apologizing."

Steve's hand slides closer to your belly, where it touches a sliver of exposed, sensitive skin.

You feel it the moment he lifts his head off the pillow behind you. "You've got goosebumps," he says. You feel like punching him all of a sudden. "Are you cold?"

It's the damn opposite of cold. It's scorching, suffocating, hot enough to keep you from breathing, you want to say.

"No."

You know he'd offer to get you another blanket if he thought you were cold. You also know you'd quite literally melt if that happened; the heat radiates off of Steve like he's a damn heater, spreading towards your body where his chest meets your back.

It would have been comforting — it is quite cold outside — if you weren't, in fact, very tense. Very aware of the way he lets his fingertips brush against your skin slowly, carefully, of how his hot breath makes goosebumps bloom on the sensitive skin of your shoulder, of your neck…

"Steve."

Sounds dangerously close to a moan. Steve drags his hand over your belly and the exposed sliver of skin expands and expands some more. Your chest rises and falls as you try to remember the right way to breathe, letting your mouth fall open, releasing a sigh that sounds too loud in the silence of the room.

His lips touch the very spot where your shoulder meets your neck, too confident to be accidental.

Then he chuckles — it's low, subtle. Steve's trying his best to hide it. But when you turn around and see the outline of his face in the darkness, what you find is clear — a smirk, a bubbly giggle threatening to break out.

"Oh my God," you say, mortified, jumping off the bed as he giggles sweetly. "You are so mean, Steve!"

"Wait! Get back here, sweetheart!"

So cute 🥹 I want a hug from Steve too 🥹

prompt again for #5! steve gives the best hugs in the group — it's another reason why the kids call him the mom of the team. when you have a hard day you always go straight to steve for comfort. he'll rest his head on yours and hum a little and the two of you won't have to say anything — steve just knows you need some comfort - lav

5. giggly cuddles; 0.6k words

thanks for the prompt my little apple cake ⚘️ steve h x gn!reader.

****

Today has been too much.

You're at the Harringtons for a game night. It had been agreed the kids needed something to take their minds off what happened. Steve had put it upon himself to coordinate such a thing. You know he loves people in his house and the noise and warmth the kids bring.

And while your capacity for people doesn't match Steve's, you still adore all of them to death. And any other day, you'd be smack in the middle of the heated game of Monopoly happening downstairs. You can hear Mike yelling that Dustin should go straight to jail and rolling doubles before you go to jail doesn't protect you from future jail time!

You want to join the action and eat your weight in popcorn but instead you're in the kitchen, slowly sipping your glass of water and sagging against the counter. Your social battery is near drained. Every interaction, every worry, and every responsibility has nestled in your brain and zapped your energy.

You lean over the sink to try to find your breath and keep it.

"Hey."

You feel a warm hand on your spine. Steve sets the popcorn bowl on your other side, rubbing circles into your skin.

"D'you feel sick?"

You shake your head, hoping Steve will understand. You two have been friends for a while. Sometimes he just knows.

"Too much?" he murmurs, quieter this time.

You nod. Steve urges you upright.

"C'mere," he says, taking your hand. "I'll bring down the popcorn and then we can camp out up here."

"The kids—" you start.

"They'll be fine," he soothes. "They're occupied with the game. Nancy and Robin have 'em."

You go to the living room and linger by the couch. Steve is down and back in moments, dusting his hands on his jeans. He smiles at you, only slightly tinged with worry. He's such a mother hen, fretting over how much rest you're getting or checking your anxiety levels.

"Sit down," Steve instructs gently.

You frown. "I don't wanna keep you..."

He shakes his head.

"You're not, promise. C'mon, I got you."

You sit and Steve does the same, positioned against the back of the couch. He pulls you up so you're slotted between his thighs. Steve is warm and smells like caramel corn. He begins to rub at the base of your neck. Your muscles loosen.

"Bad day?" he asks.

"Jus' a lot," you murmur, clinging to his sweatshirt, head on his shoulder.

You feel him nod. You don't have to say much. Steve knows you inside and out.

"Had a guy come in today asking what the best movies for lizards are."

"Lizards?" you hum into his chest. "Like lizard movies?"

"No, like, he has a pet lizard named Wendell and he wanted my personal insight on films lizards would enjoy."

You bite your lip.

"So what did you tell him?"

"Well, first I asked what kind of personality Wendell has. Apparently he's a party boy."

You can't help your giggle at that. Steve joins in, shaking from the memory.

"It was bizarre! I had to get Robin involved. She must've given him a good selection. He seemed pretty happy."

You look up at Steve, curling your arms around his neck. He smiles down at you. Your foreheads bump.

"Thanks for this," you whisper. "You give the best hugs, Steve."

"Of course. Anytime. Y'want anything? You didn't eat much earlier."

"Later?" you plead. "Just wanna stay here with you."

Steve shifts and presses his cheek to yours. He continues to rub your neck.

"Sure, honey. We can stay here as long as you want."

Who I write for

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

Hero Fiennes Tiffin

Hardin Scott

Draco Malfoy

Vinnie Hacker

Jensen Ackles

Dean Winchester

KLAUS MIKAELSON

Joseph Morgan

Jacob Eldori

Joe Keery

Steve Harrington

Hi!

I've been debating doing this since the beginning of the year just because of some personal situations, school beginning again, and me being behind on requests.

But I will be closing my requests soon.

I will be accepting any requests for (about) the next two weeks to give you guys the opportunity to send in all the requests/thoughts you might have. And I will be accepting requests for open characters on my Characters That I Write For list.

I will be closing my requests on 1 February 2023.

I'm sorry if this upsets anyone. I don't really want to do this either, but I'm behind and a bit overwhelmed. I hope that you can understand, but I am really excited to hear your requests and thoughts! 

And thank you to all the people that have requested things from me. I really appreciate that. I am working on all of your non-posted requests, I’ve just been a bit busy lately, but I will be posting things soon.

- Ghost