#stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend. his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

-

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lip so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

-

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

#★ mal writes! #(mal pushes herself past her limit) #ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

can I request steve x shy!reader where he asks her out? I could imagine him being totally smitten and she is just beet red, can’t imagine that king steve is paying her any mind!

summary: a lovesick steve asks out a shy you

shy!fem!reader 0.8k words

You’re staring at your shoes like they’re the most interesting thing on the planet. Steve thinks it’s cute. He’s totally endeared by your shyness. He strides over to you and sticks his foot out to tap your shoe with his.

“Hey you.”

Slowly you lift your gaze. You’re already flushed in the cheeks and all Steve said was hey. He feels slightly bad for what he’s about to ask, how shy he’s about to make you, but then again he doesn’t think he can contain himself very much longer. Not when you look this pretty. Not when you’ve been waiting outside Family Video for five minutes, because Steve had called you and told you he had something to ask you.

You lift your head and Steve gets to see your face kissed by the lovely golden sun, your eyes pools of colour in the light. You’re really pretty. It makes his heart stutter.

“Hi, Steve,” you say quietly. Steve likes the way your lips move around his name. Likes the way you speak it like it’s something special and not just a generic white guy name.

He grins at you. “Hi,” he says, even though he’s already greeted you. He’s feeling about as nervous as you look. He swallows. “How’s it going, hm? You doing okay?”

You wrinkle your face up and lift your shoulder in a shrug. It’s soft. And undeniably cute.

“I’m okay,” you say softly. You smile at him, cheeks all plump and flushed, and Steve thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the whole of Hawkins. Maybe the whole world.

His heart pounds but he’s already here, he can’t back out now. He smiles back.

“Good, that’s good,” he nods, and cards a hand through his thick hair. He realises a second too late he’s probably messed it up — he’d spent about ten minutes checking it in the Family Video window before this, and now he’s gone and ruined it. Somehow, he doesn’t think you’d care even if his hair looks like a nest right now.

“What did you want to ask me?” You say, mostly shy but a little curious. You’d wondered aloud, when he’d called you, why he couldn’t just tell you over the phone. Steve had answered that this was too important for a phone conversation, he’d come and see you after work. You’d come to him instead. It makes the whole thing all the more nerve-wracking for Steve.

“Right. So I was wondering,” he starts, but his voice comes out constricted and too-high. Smooth, Steve. Real smooth. He’s not going to be telling Robin about this. “Uh, I wanted to ask you.” He pauses. You look half terrified and half hopeful. “Would you maybe want to go out with me sometime? I think you’re really cool and I like you a lot, but, um. You can say no.”

His voice goes up at the end and he cringes internally. Definitely not his smoothest moment. You blink up at him owlishly. You look, not surprisingly, quite stunned. Like Steve’s gone and told you he’s from Mars. Your mouth opens.

“Me?” You ask, your tone hushed.

A laugh bursts out of Steve before he can stop it. It’s less of an amused laugh and more of a she’s-so-cute-are-you-kidding-me? laugh.

“Yes, you,” he chuckles, grinning like a fool, his cheeks aching with it. “Who else?”

You flush all over and duck your head again, go back to staring at your shoes. “Well, you know, I’m— I’m quiet. And you’re …” You gesture vaguely to Steve with your hands. “You’re Steve Harrington.”

“Sweetheart,” he soothes, and grabs your hands before he can psyche himself out. He wraps his fingers over the back of your hands and pressed his thumbs to your palms. Gives you a gentle squeeze. “Don’t be silly. I like you. I don’t care if you’re a bit shy. Everyone is.”

You look up at him. You’ve got this look on your face like you’re trying very hard to frown but a smile is winning. “You’re not.”

“Oh, yes I am,” Steve says indignantly. You make me shy, he doesn’t say.

You giggle at his tone and it’s probably the best thing Steve’s ever heard in his life.

“I don’t believe you,” you say, all smiles.

Steve sighs. “Whatever.” He drops your joint hands so they dangle between you and him. “So, what’s your answer?”

He already knows your answer. Already knows you like him just as much as he likes you. Maybe not quite as much. He likes you so much it makes him feel queasy sometimes.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, smiling like Steve has just told you you’ve won the lottery.

Steve feels a bit like he’s won the lottery himself, with you looking at him like that.

-

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x shy!reader #steve harrington headcanons #✉️ #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

loser lover — steve harrington

summary: steve is an accident-prone boyfriend … you’d never admit you actually like patching him up. fluff, established relationship.

gn!reader 1.2k words

gif by @harringtondaily

“Oh, Steve. What did you do this time?”

Steve stands in the doorway looking immensely guilty. He’s sporting a bloody lip and a scrape up his arm, and his jeans are streaked with mud. He’d taken the kids out to Lovers Lake — you’d been too comfortable at home to join them, but now you’re regretting it.

“It was an accident,” Steve whines, sounding a bit like a toddler trying to get out of a scolding. “I fell out of a tree trying to get Dustin’s stupid shoe.”

You almost laugh. Almost. “How in the world did Dustin’s shoe get in a tree?”

Steve looks up, sees the smile on your face that you hide hastily. Due to his current state and the fact that you’re already glaring at him, he pretends not to notice.

“Max threw it up there. None of them were tall enough to get it down.”

You cough loudly, though to Steve it sounds suspiciously like a snort of laughter. His face morphs into exaggerated shock, eyes blown wide and jaw slack.

“Are you laughing?” He challenges, eyebrows disappearing into his too-long hair. “I know I look like hell right now, sweetheart, but I could totally take you on.”

He raises his fists like he’s going to fight you, converse-clad feet shuffling on the doormat. He looks so stupid that you burst into a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Steve’s hands drop to his sides when you continue to laugh. “What?”

You finish laughing though you’re still grinning from ear to ear. You grab his wrist, pull him inside. “You’re an idiot, Steve.”

Steve would gladly look like an idiot a million times, in front of a million people, if it meant you’d smile at him like that.

“Well, come on.” You’re urging Steve inside — he’d been too busy staring to cooperate. “Take off your shoes, tough guy.”

Tough guy. Steve likes that. He fails to notice you were using the term teasingly.

Steve kicks off his shoes and shuts the door behind him. Your hand moves from his wrist to his hand, your fingers slotting between his. You pull him through the living room, where he catches a glimpse of the film you’d been watching, and into the bathroom.

“Are you really sore anywhere?” You ask him.

Steve shrugs. “Not really.”

You manoeuvre your bodies in the cramped space between the sink and the shower, your hands on Steve’s waist as you push him gently against the counter. You take his arm in your hands and hold it up to your face, gaze scanning the wound. You wince. It looks bad, bright red blood painting his raw, scraped skin.

Steve jumps in quickly. “S’not as bad as it looks! It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You give him a look like you don’t believe him, dropping his arm gently. You bend at the knees to reach underneath the sink and tap his hip with the back of your hand. “Scoot over, baby. You’re in the way.”

Steve does as he’s told, holding his arm in midair while he watches you pull a white bottle and a box of big Band-aids from the cupboard under the sink.

“What did you fall on?” You straighten up, brows pinching together as you take his arm again in gentle hands.

Steve cringes. He’d been hoping you wouldn’t ask that — it will only make you more concerned. He waters his answer down enough that you won’t worry too much.

“I dunno, it was a branch or something. It only got my arm, though.”

You hum, unscrewing the bottle of saline solution. You’re near silent as you carefully clean the blood from his arm. Your sweet hums and quiet apologies for the stinging do more for Steve than the actual antiseptic could ever do.

Steve likes watching you like this, hair falling in your eyes and fingers so gentle he can barely feel anything. You’re biting at your lip — Steve wants to kiss away the worry but vows to stay still until you’re done. He’ll kiss you when he’s all patched up, screw his busted lip.

You stick a big Band-Aid on his arm and then plant a kiss on top, then one on the inside of his wrist. Steve reddens at your touch, your soft lips leaving his skin hot and tingly.

“And your lip?” You ask, oblivious to Steve’s blush. “How’d that happen?”

Steve lifts his uninjured arm to push his hair back from where it was falling over his forehead. “Oh, I elbowed myself in the face when I fell, I think.”

You huff, half fed up and half sympathetic. Steve thinks he hears you say ‘idiot’ under your breath as you grab the cotton balls from the cupboard. He loves you so much he pretends not to hear it.

“Next time, I’m coming,” you say, shuffling your feet so you’re probably far closer to Steve than you need to be.

Steve can’t resist fitting his hand to your waist, fingers pushing around to your back and thumb rubbing at your side. You try not to notice as you take a cotton ball, run it under the cold tap and dab at his bottom lip.

“You better,” Steve says, fake-exasperated. His words are muffled from your diligent dabbing. “The kids only listen to you, anyway.”

“They listen to you sometimes,” you reason, your eyes on Steve’s lips.

Steve huffs. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You finish up on his lip and give it a final swipe with your thumb. Steve’s hand tightens on your waist like he doesn’t want you to be finished just yet.

“Thank you, baby,” he says softly. He takes his uninjured arm and circles it around your waist, your stomach pressing into his hips.

“I didn’t even say I was done,” you say through a smile.

“Well, I can tell you’re done ‘cos you don’t have that look on your face anymore.”

“What look?”

“That oh-my-gosh-my-boyfriend’s-an-idiot look.”

Steve digs his fingers into your side, prompting a giggle to spill from your lips. Donning a breathless smile you reach up to tuck his hair behind one ear, your pointer finger ghosting over his jaw as you lower it.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” you say quietly, then tap his chest twice. “You do need a haircut, though.”

Steve forces a frown. “Why? I like it long.”

You like it long, too. But Hawkins summers are sweltering, and if it gets any longer he’ll be begging you for hair ties everyday.

Steve seems to read your mind. His eyes turn all soft and big and mushy. “Fine, but will you cut it for me?”

You laugh, though you already know what your answer will be. “What am I, your babysitter?”

“Well…” Steve‘s eyes flit from the discarded cotton balls in the sink to his well-bandaged arm. “Kinda.”

You roll your eyes. You’d never admit out loud that you actually like caring for him like this.

“Sure, I’ll cut your hair, Stevie. Just don’t blame me if I ruin it forever.”

Steve scoffs. “Nothing you do could ruin this pretty face, sweetheart.”

You sigh, lips twitching at the corners. “Idiot.”

Steve feigns hurt, his hands falling from your waist and landing on his hips in a very mom-esque stance. “I thought you said I’m not an idiot!”

“Right, sorry,” you laugh, tiptoeing to press a breathless kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I didn’t mean it, my love.”

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x gn!reader #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

Congratulations on 3,000 followers! The feat is well deserved, your writing is beautiful, thank you for sharing your talent with us.

If you can fit me in (no worries if not!), could I request a little blurb for the celly - Little Women, if possible with shy!reader and the prompt, "you look like you could use a hug," and our beautiful boy Steve Harrington?

Thank you! Regardless if you get to write it or not, just wanted to express my gratitude and felicitations :)

thank you angel!! such a cute prompt to write omg

summary: steve gives shy!you a hug

shy!fem!reader 0.5k words

Steve can tell from the moment you walk into work that you’ve had a bad morning. Your usual soft smile is missing, replaced by a frown that makes Steve’s heart twang. You’re staring at your shoes when you walk in, when usually you’ll beam at Steve and run at him for a hug. Don’t get him wrong, you’re not a ball of energy all the time. You’re shy and soft and quiet. But today you’re very obviously morose.

Steve thinks he might cry.

“Baby,” he says in way of greeting. He rounds the counter but doesn’t touch you yet, just in case. “Hi.”

You push the tips of your shoes together and then look up. “Hi, Steve,” you say, very quietly. Quieter than usual, at least. You’re still frowning. Steve wants desperately to kiss it away.

“Are you—?” He reaches out to take your wrist but changes his mind. His hand is left floating mid-air. “Um. You look like you could use a hug. Can I give you one?”

You look up at Steve with so much hope it makes his chest hurt. “Yeah, please,” you say, all soft desperation.

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He steps into your space and gets his arms around you. Your backpack’s kind of in the way and your work badge is digging into his chest but he really can’t bring himself to care. You’re melting into his hold and it’s all Steve can do not to burst into tears.

“Had a hard morning?” He asks into your hair, soft as he possibly can.

You nod into his chest, your nose pressing into the space between his pecs. Steve pulls you closer still, until he’s almost lifting you, until your face is squashed into his chest and he thinks if he squeezes you any tighter you’ll suffocate.

When he feels your hot tears soaking through his shirt he first panics, then tries not to when he realises it’ll probably make you more upset. Still, he encourages your face from his chest, letting you cling to his waist as he takes your teary face in his hands.

“Sweetheart,” he coos. Your cheeks are flushed under his hands and your eyelashes sticky with tears.

“Sorry,” you whisper, all shaky. “I don’t know why I’m crying. Sorry, Steve.”

You go to pull away, probably to wipe the tears from your face, but Steve doesn’t budge. He’ll wipe your tears for you, thank you very much.

“Baby,” he says, holding you still. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”

You blink up at Steve, all sad and pretty. How you look so beautiful even when you’re crying is beside him.

“I think I just really needed a hug,” you say softly.

Steve’s heart does a funny backflip in his chest. He drags his thumbs under your eyes, pushing your tears away.

“Yeah?” He asks, his hands sliding to your shoulders. He squeezes you. “Do you want another one?”

You nod and Steve wraps you up in his hold again. He’s prepared to hug you all day, if you need him to.

-

fixing readmore glitch

#★ mal writes! #⭐️ 3k celebration! #ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x shy!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #✉️ #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

not so family video — steve harrington

summary: you visit steve at work. fluff, established relationship

fem!reader, 1.1k words

gif by @acecroft !

You sauntered into Family Video like it was your second home, the bell jingling as you pushed the door open and stepped onto the threshold.

It was just after 3pm — the afternoon sun painted the countertops golden and splashed warmth onto your bare legs, floral sundress floating mid-thigh. Robin was behind the counter at the computer, scrunching her nose in a half-disgusted, half-affectionate manner when she saw you.

“Steve, your girlfriend’s here,” she drawled, not even glancing up as she typed into the keyboard.

“Wha— ow!” A telling thud had sounded from somewhere in the rows, followed by a clattering of what unfortunately sounded like multiple video cases spilling across the floor. Steve emerged, straightening up and clutching his head, hair pushed flat by his palm. “Ow, fuck. Dammit.”

“Stevie,” you groaned lightly, affectionately, and hurried over to where he was, about three rows from the front of the store. You stopped in your tracks when you saw the absolute mess he’d made, videos scattered across the floor like dominoes.

“Steve,” you repeated his name, exasperatedly this time, meeting his eyes over matching pouts. “Here, let me help.”

You bent to scoop up the videos, balancing on the balls of your feet as you piled up a few of them. Steve stopped rubbing his aching head to help you, muttering a string of profanities and something along the lines of ‘can never catch a break around here’. You bit back a grin, slotting a couple of videos into their proper shelf.

Meanwhile, Steve had been momentarily distracted, as his eyes landed on you and your sundress, your pretty hair and the way it caught the sunlight, summertime freckles on your bare arms and the curve of your thighs as you balanced on your knees. He watched you replace a few more videos, your skirt floating and lifting as you stretched your torso to reach the higher shelves.

“Are you gonna stare at me doing your job all day or are you actually gonna help?”

You were teasing him — the drawl in your voice made it obvious — and maybe Steve would’ve said something smart back but you were killing him with that pretty smile of yours.

“Did you come here purely to tease me, sweetheart? ‘Cause it’s working.”

Steve’s voice was sickly sweet and you acknowledged the familiar butterflies in your stomach, the ones that appeared even after months of Steve-compliments. You grinned so hard it hurt.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, inching closer to him on the grimy video store floor. When you were close enough you took his collar in your fingers, your other hand fiddling with his employee badge. “You’re not doing too bad yourself, handsome.”

Steve blushed — yes, Steve Harrington blushed — and put his hands on your waist, tugging you closer still. Your knees knocked each other clumsily and Steve pretended to be annoyed with a quiet tsk. You rearranged yourself so your knee slotted between both of his, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck.

Steve’s chest heaved between the both of you and it made you giddy that you, of all people, excited him this much.

“If this is my job,” he breathed, “I’ll work myself to the bone.”

You couldn’t tell who leaned in first but it didn’t matter — Steve’s hands tightened around your waist and yours curled around his neck. His lips were soft and plush and he tasted like candy — he’d been eating the Family Video stash again. You smiled into the kiss and your fingers twirled through the soft hair on the back of his neck.

Steve broke the kiss only to drag you clumsily into his lap, your legs on either side of his waist, skirt riding up around your hips. By the look on Steve’s face, this was extremely intentional.

“Perv,” you whispered, watching bashfully as he didn’t waste a second to get his hands on your skin, fingers curling around your thighs.

Steve didn’t miss a beat in replying. “Only for you, angel.”

He dipped his head to kiss you again, he was so familiar and so warm and so Steve. You were absolutely enthralled, and it would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t love him so much to not give a shit. Steve’s hands were sliding up your thighs, his warm fingertips trailing higher, higher, higher—

“That doesn’t look very family friendly.”

Robin Buckley had never been one to give a single ounce of privacy, especially not to her best friend. You pulled away from Steve, looking over your shoulder to see Robin glaring at the two of you from the counter.

“Ignore her,” Steve muttered from behind you, so only you could hear, attempting to pull you back into him.

You giggled, ignoring him instead. “Sorry, Robs,” you grinned.

The girl merely rolled her eyes, but her tone suggested a poorly contained smile. “Get off my coworker’s lap, Y/N. There’s like, so much work to do.”

This was not true, considering the completely empty shop and the fact that it had been like this all day. Still, you pried yourself off of Steve, fixing your hair and clothes while poor Steve pouted on the floor. He very unsubtly watched the back of you as you skipped over to Robin. Jeez Louise, you drove him crazy.

Steve got up reluctantly, groaning like an old man. The complaints continued under his breath while he finally stacked the last few videos, stealing glances at you the whole time. You‘d taken to chatting with Robin (the hypocrite), leaning against the counter with your hip jutting out and he was sure you were doing it on purpose.

His suspicion was confirmed when you laughed sweetly, throwing back your head so your hair tumbled down your back, the sunlight catching on your nose and eyelashes and hair. And then, god save him, you looked over at Steve with a huge smile still etched on your face, batting your eyelashes like you knew he was watching.

It took everything Steve had not to pile you into his car right then and there, take you to his empty house and see that dress of yours on the damn floor. He opted instead for crossing the room in a few strides and circling his arms around you from behind, chin resting boyishly on your bare shoulder, breath tickling your ear.

Robin watched in affectionate disgust as Steve whispered something in your ear. She assumed it was one of his standard dirty comments, because you blushed like a beetroot, giggling like a schoolgirl as you slapped him on the chest. Robin couldn’t stand it one second longer.

“You guys are near insufferable,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I’m banning you from the store, Y/N.”

Steve merely squeezed you tighter and pouted dramatically at Robin, “You don’t mean that, Buckley.”

“I do too, Harrington.”

“You’re gonna ban your favourite customer?” You asked, pushing your bottom lip out to mirror Steve’s pout.

“Yup,” Robin quipped in a tone that suggested otherwise. “You’re both dinguses in love.”

Steve grinned. He didn’t mind that label one bit.

Neither did you.

#1K NOTES??? R U SERIOUS TYSM <333 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #ღ stevie #★ mal writes! #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

steve harrington definitely gets u to make you both matching friendship bracelets and he never ever takes it off.

SOOO REAL!! he’s so lovesick boyfriend I need him

fluff, established relationship gn!reader, 900 words

Steve loved your bracelets. He thought it was the cutest thing ever, how you wore at least two on each wrist, how you colour-coordinated them to your outfit or to each other. He loved them so much he asked where you’d got them, secretly hoping to find some pretty ones and gift them to you.

“Oh …” You looked at your shoes and tugged at the set of bracelets on your left wrist shyly. “I actually made them.”

Steve was bewildered. He didn’t think someone could be capable of making something so pretty and intricate. “You made them?”

You nodded, cheeks warm. “Well, yeah. I’ve been making them since I was little.”

Steve reached across the space between you, his hands hovering over your own. “Can I?”

You hummed and allowed him to take your wrist in his hands, hold your hand up to his face and get a closer look at your bracelets. When he was done he took your other hand, his thumb pressing gently into your pulse point as he inspected your bracelets.

“They’re so pretty,” he said, a bit wonderstruck. His gaze moved slowly from your wrists to your eyes. “You’re incredible.”

He dropped your hands but only to take one in his own again, pushing his fingers through yours. You flushed.

“I’m really not, Steve,” you said quietly. “It’s easy.”

Steve hummed, swinging your hands gently between you. “Well, I still think you’re incredible. Do you think you could make me one?”

There was a beat of silence — you’d secretly already started making him one. It was almost done but you were too nervous to finish it, because then you’d actually have to give it to him.

“Sure,” you said, and Steve beamed. “What colours do you want?”

You’d already picked out blue and purple. You hoped he wouldn’t say something completely different.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Steve said sweetly. “M’sure you’ll pick the best ones.”

You almost melted. He was too wonderful. “Okay,” you said.

“And, hey!” Steve clicked his fingers like he had had an epiphany, a habit of his that made him all the more adorable. “You could make us matching ones, if you want. Or I could make you one …” He trailed off disdainfully and wrinkled his nose at you. “It would probably fall to pieces.”

You giggled and gave his hand a big squeeze. “That’s okay, Stevie. I’ll make them.”

☆

You let yourself into Steve’s house, like you always did. He knew you were coming, so you stayed quiet as you slipped off your shoes and shut the door. You were wearing your bracelets, as usual, with the addition of purple and blue one to match the bracelet you’d given Steve three days ago.

He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, so you ventured upstairs.

“Steve?”

No answer. You got closer to his room and heard the shower running from his adjoining bathroom. He was singing, though admittedly quite badly, but it bought a smile to your lips.

You approached the bathroom door, happy to wait but not wanting to shock him when he came out. You knocked twice.

“Steve? It’s me.”

The smile in his voice was evident when he yelled back. “Y/N! I’m almost done, just give me a couple minutes.”

“That’s okay, take your time.”

You made to sit on his bed but he called you back.

“You can come in if you want, sweetheart. Door’s unlocked.”

His tone wasn’t suggestive, though you wouldn’t have minded, really, if it was. You had an inkling he missed you as much as you missed him, so you opened the door and stepped in.

Steam clouded half the bathroom, warm air engulfing you as you stepped over the tiles. Steve’s clothes and watch were piled on the counter and the sweet scent of his shampoo surrounded you.

The shower curtain moved and Steve’s head appeared, wet hair dripping over his forehead. “Hi, sweet thing.”

You beamed, “Hi. Nice singing.”

Steve reddened, fake-glared, and then laughed like he couldn’t help himself. “Thanks. I think I’m getting pretty good, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you hummed good-naturedly.

You crossed the bathroom and Steve’s lovesick gaze followed you until you were right in front of him. You reached up to push a dripping strand of hair from his eyes, then your gaze fell to his hand that was holding the curtain back and your heart skyrocketed.

He was wearing the bracelet you’d made him.

“You’re wearing your bracelet,” you said quietly, you heart thrumming with enamour. “In the shower.”

Steve looked down like he hadn’t even realised. He probably hadn’t. “Oh, yeah.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, though it was to you. “You know I’m never taking it off, right?”

You had to blink a few times before you looked up. Your adoration for him must’ve shown on your face, because Steve gave you a quizzical look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You lifted one shoulder, took his hand with the bracelet in your own. Your wrists pressed together and your bracelets lined up. His blue with a purple heart pattern, yours purple with a blue heart pattern.

You tore your eyes away from the matching bracelets to look at Steve, and you didn’t regret it. His smile was all dopey and his freckled face flushed.

“Just love you, is all.”

Understatement of the century.

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

congratulations on the milestone!! is it possible to get a jupiter with steve harrington and the prompt “jawline kisses”?

thank you!! and omg this prompt with steve was heavenly, ily

summary: steve gets some jawline kisses. fluff, established relationship

gn!reader 700 words

It was the kind of kissing that made you dizzy. The kind that tasted like candy floss melting on your tongue and sounded like poorly contained giddy laughter. You almost couldn’t breathe, your head swimming with lack of air and too much love, but you didn’t care.

Your hands were buried in Steve’s hair, fingers all tangled in his soft unruly locks, nails scratching gently at his scalp. His hands were on you, on every inch of you he could reach. Your thighs, spread overtop his own, your hips poised just above his, and now they were sneaking under your shirt, palms smoothing over the soft skin of your stomach and waist.

You sighed so dreamily you would’ve been embarrassed if you’d been with anyone but Steve. With Steve it didn’t matter, the sounds you got out of each other were music to the other’s ears.

Steve mumbled something unintelligible against your lips, a low hum that vibrated on your mouth. You giggled, pushed back just a millimetre to give yourself space to talk. Your hands dropped to his shoulders.

“What?” You were so breathless it came out as a raspy whisper.

Steve was no better. He sounded half drunk when he finally got the words out, chest heaving. “I said, what do you want for dinner?”

You snorted, then fell into a round of sticky giggles that were hard to get rid of. Steve grinned lazily.

“You’re dumb,” you told him, your tone nothing but fondness. “You’re kissing me stupid and you want to know what I want for dinner?”

Steve looked offended. He pouted, his swollen, kiss-raw lips pushed out dramatically. “Well, yeah, I’m hungry. Look, we could have pizza, or Chinese, or I could make that soup you like …”

Steve’s list of dinner options suddenly became unimportant as but your eyes caught on the freckles that decorated his cheekbone and trailed down to his jaw. Like little constellations on his skin, they begged to be kissed and touched and loved. You tried to listen to his mini rant, you really did, but you couldn’t help it — you leaned in while he was still talking nonsense and pressed a kiss to his jawline, right on a patch of freckles.

Steve’s breath caught and he trailed off, dinner plans all but forgotten. You smiled against his skin, kissed the same smattering of freckles, this time longer and sweeter.

“What are you doing?” He asked, sounding breathless and somewhat anguished. His hands found your hips and he pulled you closer on his lap, your hipbones pressing into his stomach. He obviously didn’t mind whatever you were up to.

“Nothing,” you said innocently. You pulled away, met his frazzled eyes and brushed your fingers over the spot you’d just kissed. “You have four freckles right here, did you know?”

"Yeah," he breathed, looking like he maybe hadn't even heard what you said at all.

"They're pretty."

Steve made a noise that sounded like something was stuck in his throat. You grinned, leaned in again and fit your mouth to his jaw. If anything his speechlessness encouraged you, and you spread your mouth over his jawline, bottom lip pushing underneath the bone while your top lip spread over the top, his skin smooth and velvety under your lips. You left a trail of precise, blazing kisses along his jaw, lips warm and sticky with fondness.

Your tongue brushed over his hot skin and he audibly sighed, shoulders going slack under your hands, more melting popsicle than boy. A moment later his hands were on the move - he must've decided it was his turn to undo you, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your t-shirt and climbing fast. You pulled away abruptly when his fingertips reached your chest, hands dropping to his wrists, your t-shirt halfway up your torso and rising.

"Steve," you chided, breathless and giddy, lips swollen. You gave a half-hearted tug at his wrists but he didn't budge. You didn't really want him to. "Dinner."

Steve met your eyes, your equally heavy breaths mingling in the small space between you. His jaw was shining with your kisses. "M'not hungry anymore."

#★ mal writes! #✿ 300 celebration! #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #✉️ #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

steve backing up and he puts his hand behind the passenger seat headrest. no other thoughts in my brain. just that.

right!!! just steve driving in general makes me dizzy. him doing your seatbelt for you. him putting his keys between his teeth when his hands are full. him driving one handed just so he can touch you at all times. he constantly has his hand on your thigh or holding one of your hands. also!! his car smells exactly how you’d imagine — his musky cologne, the pine air freshener hanging from the mirror, even hints of your perfume. you’re secretly proud you’ve left such a mark on his car, and steve loves getting that whiff of your perfume when you’re not there.

whenever he does the hand on headrest thing you can’t stop staring. he just looks so hot, his big hand gripping the headrest behind you and his arm stretched across the gap between your seats. his neck craning as he looks out the back window, jawline prominent. his t-shirt stretching and slipping down his shoulder to expose his freckle-covered collarbone. you’ve been caught staring plenty of times. dustin loves to tease you for it. steve threatens to kick him out of the car and have him walk the rest of the way.

#my goodness #I am obsessed with him #I need to be his passenger princess so bad #★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

🧸 steve harrington- a patching up b’s wounds maybe?? 👀💗

of course! this isn’t my best work but I tried lmao 🫶🏽 cw! mentions of injury/blood but very minimal descriptions. reader cuts their leg while shaving

gn!reader 0.7k words

You hear the front door open and suddenly you’re a sitting duck. You have no time to hide the nasty gash running up your shin. You listen to Steve shed his shoes and bag and you know you’re waiting for the inevitable. Aka, Steve being a worrywart.

“Sweetheart?” Steve calls. “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom!” You cringe at your thick voice. You’d cried when you’d accidentally sliced your leg with your razor, not for long but you know it’ll make Steve worry even worse.

You hear Steve’s footsteps in the hallway and desperately try to think of a way to hide your wound. No such luck. Steve appears in the doorway, tall and frazzled and totally handsome. His smile drops though, when he sees your leg.

You twist from where you’re sitting on the rim of the bathtub, partly so you can see him better, partly in a poor attempt to cover your injury. It’s useless because he’s definitely already seen it. You can tell by the look on his face.

“Hi, Stevie,” you say brightly, all smiles.

Steve doesn’t smile back. “What happened to your leg, baby? Let me see.”

He’s on you before you can stop him, swooping down to sit next to you on the tub. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans over you for a better look.

“Shit,” he says, staring at the cut on your leg. When he turns back to face you he’s got worry written all over his face. You want to kiss it away but don’t think now’s the right time. “How in the world did that happen?”

He sounds incredulous. Like it should be impossible for you to ever hurt yourself. You’re sure he’d like that.

“Um.” You pause, knowing he’ll hate your answer. “I, um. I cut myself while shaving.”

Steve gasps, actually gasps, and you’d laugh if he didn’t look so utterly mortified.

“Angel,” he says slowly, his hand sliding down your shoulder to squeeze at your bicep. His eyes are so intense it’s like he’s staring into your soul. “Did you really?”

“Sorry,” you say instinctively. You duck your head so you don’t have to look at him. “It’s just a cut, Steve. I’m fine.”

There’s a beat of silence in which you try desperately not to start crying again. You hate making Steve worry about you. It creates an ache in your chest worse than your wound.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice is soft now, almost a whisper. “Angel, look at me.”

His finger finds your jaw and hooks around it, pulling your chin until you’re looking at him. You don’t want to, but he has this way of making you putty in his hands. You’d bend to his every will if he wanted you to.

You look back at him and you think he knows you’ve been crying, because he takes your face in both hands and swipes at your cheeks with his thumbs. He doesn’t mention it, though. You’re grateful for that and give him a small smile to show it.

Steve smiles back then, all things soft and pretty, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t be sorry, babe.” His hands slide to your shoulders. “Let me fix you up, yeah?”

You can’t exactly say no to him. You’ve never been able to say no to him. You’re decidedly quiet as Steve grabs supplies from the bathroom cupboard. He sits in the tub while he tends to your leg, first cleaning the blood away with warm water and a cloth and then sticking a couple of Band-Aids on top. He’s gentle as ever. It almost makes you cry again.

“All fixed, doc?” You ask once he’s plastered two Band-Aids criss-crossed over the gash.

Steve looks up at you, his hair wild from having his head ducked over your leg. You reach out and push it behind his ears for him because you can.

“One more thing,” he says seriously.

You’re about to ask what the one more thing is, but then he dips his head and lays a smacking kiss on top of your wound.

“Steve!” You giggle.

“What?” Steve tilts his head to the side innocently, his hair flipping sideways. “It’s doctor’s orders, babe.”

Before you know it he’s peppering kisses all over you leg and your knee, his lips soft and quick but enough to make you giggle until it’s hard to believe you were even injured in the first place.

#★ mal writes! #𖤐 2k celebration! #ღ stevie #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #✉️ #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

SATURN — modern!steve has a crush on librarian!reader so he keeps checking out books that he never reads just to talk to them and reader eventually calls him out on it

this is short and probably not exactly how you imagined it being but I tried!! however it’s such a good concept that I may or may not make a full length fic out of it. don’t @ me on that though … hope u like this gf!

summary: modern!steve has a crush on you, the library receptionist. fluff, pining steve, very short lol

gn!reader 600 words

You were pretty sure you were losing your marbles when you saw him for the fourth time that same week.

There he was again, looking very immersed in the books on the shelf of the History section, and standing out like a sore thumb. The only people who ever spent this long in the History section were men over 50. This boy, this tall, brunette, glasses-wearing boy, who you’d now seen every day for the past 3 days, was definitely not over 50.

You stared at him, squinted, tilted your head, tried to figure out whether you were seeing things or not. You wouldn’t be surprised — you were the type of person to be up in your head more often than not. Hence the library receptionist job.

Too late, you realised mystery boy was looking right back at you. Your face got hot fast. Your head snapped back to your computer, typing nonsense into the keyboard.

It was only when he cleared his throat that you realised he was standing right in front of your desk.

You looked up. He looked exceptionally handsome today, his long brown hair tucked behind his ears, a pair of round glasses sitting on his perfect freckled nose. Not that he hadn’t looked pretty every time you saw him, but today his grin was blinding. You swallowed.

“Sorry,” you breathed. “Um, hi. Are you … borrowing that?”

You pointed at this book in his hand. He looked down at it like he’d forgotten he was holding it.

“Oh. Yeah, this,” he said, like it was an afterthought. An afterthought of what, you didn’t know. He grinned, then slid the book over the desk to you. “Mhm, I’d like to borrow it, please.”

You went to grab the book and had to do a double take.

“This is … the same book you got out yesterday,” you said slowly, half convinced he was trying to mess with you.

“It is?” He squinted at the book for a second and then his eyes widened. You thought you saw a blush creeping up his neck. “It is! Oh shit, I’m stupid.”

Mystery boy smacked his own forehead and groaned, then fell into embarrassed laughter. His hand dragged down his face and made his glasses go lopsided. You couldn’t help but laugh too, his smile was dazzling and contagious.

“Did you even read the cover?” You asked, amusement at the situation overshadowing your nervous nature. “No, wait. Did you even read the one you got yesterday?”

His laughter died down though the redness in his cheeks didn’t.

“Well, no.” He cringed at himself, looking one part embarrassed and two parts charming. “Listen, I’m Steve. To tell you the truth, I haven’t read any of the books I got out. I just wanted to talk to you again.”

You flushed from head to foot.

Steve ignored your embarrassment chivalrously. “You’re pretty … for a library receptionist,” he said with a cheeky grin and an awfully exaggerated wink.

You blinked, cheeks blazing. Your tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of your mouth, thanks to his compliment. You stumbled for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, y’know … library receptionists are usually old ladies.” He wrinkled his nose, and, at your giggling, grinned beautifully. His eyes were bright when he asked, “What’s your name?”

Your tongue unstuck long enough for you to tell him your name. He beamed when you did, the movement in his cheeks shifting his glasses slightly, and stuck his hand out over the desk. You took it, his hand warm and big and calloused.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said jovially. You liked the way he said your name. You felt almost privileged to hear it coming from his pretty, grinning mouth.

“Nice to meet you too, Steve.” You smiled back shyly as he let go of your hand, your skin hot where he’d touched you. “Do you … do you maybe want me to give you some actually good book recommendations?”

Steve laughed, much too loud for a library but you didn’t have the heart to tell him off.

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #✿ 300 celebration! #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #modern!steve #modern!steve harrington #modern!steve harrington x reader #✉️ #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

JUPITER — send me a character + a scenario or prompt and I’ll write a blurb!

thinking about telling steve how loved and how special he is. you know that man doesn’t believe he’s worth it BUT HE IS. i’m so soft, this man deserves everything

I agree! this was such a good request!! it’s not my best work tbh but I tried, hope u like it ღ

summary: steve needs some reassurance after a bad day. fluff, established relationship, a little bit of hurt/comfort

gn!reader 900 words

Steve didn’t waste any time in finding you. He didn’t even bother to take off his shoes, just tossed his keys in the general direction of the kitchen counter and went marching into the living room.

There you were, sitting pretty on the couch, totally immersed in your show. You looked up when he entered.

“Steve! You’re back, I missed— oof.” You were cut off when Steve let himself fall on top of you, careful not to hurt you but his weight was enough to steal your breath for a second, anyway. His chest squished yours and his head buried itself in your neck. He breathed in your scent and then sighed into your skin, feeling content for probably the first time that day.

“Steve,” you breathed. He could hear the smile in your voice and would’ve looked to see it if he wasn’t so tired. Your hands rubbed up his shoulderblades. “Baby. Hi. Are you okay?”

Baby, Steve thought. He muttered something unintelligible into your neck. You giggled.

“Can’t hear you, Stevie,” you said sweetly.

Steve didn’t say anything. He’d rather just stay here, not saying anything, for the rest of his life. He kicked his shoes off without sitting up. Your hands moved to his hair and you buried your fingers in the soft dark locks. Steve almost whimpered.

A stretch of silence. Only Steve’s breathing and your breathing and the soft hum of the television. You carded your fingers through Steve’s hair carefully, one hand resting at the back of his neck.

“Bad day?” You asked quietly.

Steve wasn’t surprised you’d guessed right, but he pretended anyway. “How’d you know?” He mumbled, his mouth skipping over your skin.

You averted his question without your own. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, light but concerned.

“Not really.”

“Okay.” A beat of silence, and then, “Love you,” you said softly, so quiet he wouldn’t have heard, had he been any further away from you. Luckily he was so close he could hear your every breath. His heart skyrocketed, lodged itself in his throat so he couldn’t speak.

Another stretch of silence in which Steve found himself breathing in your scent like it was a drug. Your familiar shampoo, the fabric softener you used on your clothes, and hints of him. The thought of you walking around smelling like him made his heart skip.

“Dustin and Lucas were here, not long ago,” you said conversationally. Steve felt a surge of gratitude and fondness for you, filling the silence like this. “They were looking for you. They want you to go see Aliens with them at the cinemas tomorrow.”

Steve grunted. “I thought Eddie was going with them.”

“Well, yeah, he is. But they want you to go, as well.”

Steve fell silent. He felt a bit shocked, to say the least. Lately, it was all Eddie this and Eddie that, Eddie showed us this totally cool band and Eddie hosted a sick campaign. Not that Steve cared. At all. Okay, maybe a little.

Your hand had stopped moving in Steve’s hair. He imagined you worrying on your bottom lip. “You do want to go, right? I told them you would …”

Steve got up on his elbows, arms braced on either side of you so his chest hovered over yours. “Yeah, I want to go. I just … didn’t think they’d want me to.” He cringed at his own voice. He sounded so morose. “Y’know?”

He hadn’t meant to sound self-pitying, but it sure seemed like it. You frowned.

“Why not?” You looked unhappy and genuinely confused, head tilted slightly to the side, like a puppy. “They love you, you know that.”

Steve huffed. “I don’t know if love is the right word, babe.”

He slumped back down to hide his face. Why was it, that even with the easiest person to talk to in the world, he found it so hard to get the words out? You seemed to read his mind, as usual.

“Steve,” you said. You made it sound like the prettiest word ever to exist. Even when you added, “You’re being ridiculous,” it sounded like music to his ears, sweet and smooth like honey.

Steve gave a half-grunt half-sigh.

You sighed, too, though far more patiently. “Are you really gonna make me spell it out for you?”

When he didn’t answer, you shifted underneath him, moving to sit up. You pushed gently at Steve’s shoulders to get him up with you, and he allowed himself to be manhandled into a sitting position. When you were both sitting across from each other, legs all tangled over the couch cushions, you took his shoulders in your hands.

“I love you,” you said, slow and firm, giving him a shake with each word. Your eyes bore into his. “The kids love you.” Three more shakes. “You are loved.” With each word you planted a kiss to his pouting mouth, sweet and firm until he was grinning under your gaze, a laugh rising from his chest.

Giggling madly, you continued to pepper kisses all over his face, his skin burning hot under your lips.

“Alright, enough!” He finally exclaimed, breathless and giddy with laughter as you moved back, laughing just as hard.

“D’you think it’s drilled into you now?” You asked, huffing as you brushed a stray hair from your face. “Or do you need some more convincing?”

Steve could see in your smile that by ‘convincing’ you really meant kisses. He pretended to consider. “A bit more convincing, I think.”

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #✿ 300 celebration! #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

congrats on 4k!! you’ve quickly become one of my fav writers. i always go back to you when i want something to read especially all you’re shy!readers! i’m shy and anxious as well and the way you write it is very relatable <3

may i request eddie or steve (your choice) with “do you trust me?” “yes”?

thank you baby! you’re too sweet omg. I changed the dialogue up just a tiny bit but the idea is the same! I love u and thank u for the ask x

shy!fem!reader join the celebration!

You’re nervous. Steve can tell, not because you’re being loud about it, because you never are about anything, but because you’re the quietest you’ve been since your first date with him. A first date which, although Steve thought he’d blown it the moment he’d called you pretty and you wouldn’t look him in the eye for five whole minutes, turned into you being Steve’s very new girlfriend.

He watches you pick at your nails, a frown pulling at your pretty lips. He knows exactly why you’re nervous, even though he’s not an expert at reading you just yet. It’s not rocket science — anyone would be nervous for a job interview. Unfortunately, you get nerves in unfair and extremely large dosages compared to everyone else.

Steve shuffles closer to you on the hood of his car where you’re both situated, his thigh almost touching yours. “Y/N?”

You must hear him because you stop picking at your nails, but you show no other sign of acknowledging him. Steve knows you’re not being rude, ‘cos when are you ever? You’re the sweetest girl he’s ever met. Sweetest and shyest. Hence the silence.

“Hey, look at me?” He asks gently, sliding a hand in between yours and taking your much smaller hand in his. He squeezes it for good measure. “Wanna talk to ya.”

You squeeze his hand back, albeit much less confidently, but it still makes Steve’s heart race. He’s new to your affections, shy but sweet and totally endearing. Every time you do something like this he ends up liking you even more, which is saying something.

Steve waits for you to look at him. When you do it’s like all the air’s been knocked out his chest. You’re so pretty it hurts, and even worse, you don’t even know it.

“You look really pretty today,” he says without really meaning to — he sometimes (always) forgets to hold his tongue around you. It becomes a problem when he starts dishing out compliments and you get all flustered from them. Speaking of flustered, you go all shy and blink at him adorably as if he’s the sun.

“Steve,” you say, almost exasperated.

Steve really likes how you say his name. It shows in his smile. “What? It’s true.”

You duck your head and cover your eyes with your free hand. “Stop,” you murmur, but you sound like you’re smiling.

Steve laughs. You’re the cutest. He’s called you pretty and you’re acting like he just hung the moon for you. He’d hate to see your reaction when he really gets going.

“I’m sorry,” he says, still grinning like a madman, pulling at your wrist gently to get you to uncover your face. “Hey, come out, I still wanna talk.”

You oblige, letting him unmask you till you’re flushed and smiling in the late afternoon sun. He pulls both your hands into his lap with no intention of letting them go.

“I know you’re feeling nervous about the interview,” he says slowly. “And I know nothing I can say will really help, but I promise you it’s gonna be okay.”

Steve waits for you to say something. When you do, you’re frowning. “You don’t know that, Steve. I’m probably gonna get all awkward and mess it up.”

Steve tuts at you, his thumb finding a stretch of skin on your hand that he can rub circles into. “You won’t. You won’t mess it up, hun, I promise. I’m gonna be there the whole time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeat back softly. Your eyes follow Steve’s hands as he pulls one of your hands to his lips, his mouth to your skin. A whisper of a kiss. You go hot under his affections.

He drops your hand lest you explode into a million pieces. “I can even whisper all your lines to you to help you remember,” he suggests, half joking and half not.

“Steve,” you mumble, embarrassed now. You steal your hand back to pick at the rip in your jeans, a tangle of frayed threads just above your knee.

Steve laughs and is delighted when a smile works it’s way onto your lips. “Okay, maybe I won’t do that. But I will be there if you need anything at all, okay? You do trust me, right?”

You smile for real then, a staggering smile that makes Steve want to kiss you silly and then some. “Yes. Of course I do, Steve.”

Steve grins, feeling proud of you and in love with you all at once. He’s definitely taking you out for ice cream and a movie after this. No matter how the interview goes.

#★ mal writes! #⟡ 4k celebration! #steve harrington #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington au #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

Hello and good afternoon my lovely, I will absolutely give you a steve request on this fine “afternoon”. What about a steve blurb where they go on an early date and either the reader (or steve cause that could be cute) is like smitten with the other and flushed and all that? They just have a like fun chemistry? Have fun with that! Love ya!

this is way too long to be a blurb oopsies. also I’m so sorry this took so long to get out, I hope it’s okay bae 🤍

fem!reader 1.1k words

Your legs feel like jelly.

Steve Harrington is hot. He’s hot, and kind, and funny, and just about the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. For reasons beyond your knowledge, he’s asked you out on a date.

You feel like you’re about to trip over your own feet as you approach Steve. He’s looks spectacular. He always does, but tonight he’s ditched the Family Video uniform for a dark blue polo, a brown jacket and a pair of Levi’s. You almost pass out just looking at him, and it gets worse when he spots you.

His face lights up like a Christmas tree, grin so wide his eyes crinkle up. “Y/N, hey! You look great.”

He’s so casual with it, so suave, it makes you lightheaded.

“Thank you,” you manage. Your face feels like a furnace as you toy with the material of your dress. “You too.”

It’s true, he does. And his smile only adds to it, so pretty and so kind it makes your chest ache. A moment later he gets that look on his face that you know means he’s about to make some corny joke.

“What, this old thing?” Steve lifts the corner of his jacket with an air of faux disgust. “I reckon the Family Video uniform is so much more flattering on me, don’t you think?”

You giggle. He’s funny, but maybe it’s more his smile that’s making you giggle. Either way, the sound is giddy and you’d be embarrassed but there’s no time for that, not when Steve is stepping forward, just on the verge of your personal space.

“Can I hug you?” He asks, quite abruptly, like he’s been holding the question in.

You try not to sound too desperate. “Yeah, sure.”

Your arms go around his waist while his slide over your biceps and around to your upper back. You practically melt in his arms. He’s warm and so gentle and his clothes are soft and he smells good. He smells like cotton and like his cologne, the same musky, heady scent you’ve picked up on the previous two times he’s hugged you. He’s so comfortable you could stand like this all night, the toes of your shoes slotting between his, his hands rubbing over the expanse of your upper back.

Too soon, Steve is pulling away. He’s all smiles as he takes your hand in his, his palm warm and calloused in yours.

“Should we go in?” He asks, giving your hand a soft jostle.

Your hand feels like it’s on fire. You hope Steve doesn’t notice. You nod. “Okay.”

Steve walks you to the front door of the diner, then releases you to hold the door open, a gesture that seems totally second nature to him. To you, it’s like being treated like a princess. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say quietly. Feeling brave and unable to stop yourself, you hold your hand out to him as he follows you over the threshold. He takes it without question and with a grin almost as big as yours.

He talks to the woman at the counter and someone shows you to a table for two. Steve looks even prettier in this lighting. You try not to swoon when he takes off his jacket and hangs it over the back of his chair. His arms are gorgeously thick, sunkissed and covered in freckles.

Dinner goes smoothly. Apart from you catching yourself staring at Steve more times than you can count, and Steve spilling wine all over the tablecloth, that is. It goes as smoothly as it can, with you so nervous and Steve so clumsy-handed.

He makes jokes and dotes you with compliments and asks you questions like he’s really interested in you, and you’ve never felt more liked. It’s surprising and dizzying and lovely all at once.

Steve puts his arm around your waist on the way out, a burning weight on your lower back. It’s nice, how intimate it feels. How he pulls you closer into his side so you both fit through the door at the same time. If that wasn’t enough, he even gives you his jacket while he walks you around the block. It’s warm and smells like him, and you half hope you’ll carry his scent around even after tonight is over.

When you reach your car neither of you move to leave. He stands with his back to your car, facing you. You stand directly in front of him, in his big warm jacket and your dress, feeling lightheaded with how much you like him.

“I, um. I had a good time tonight,” he says, and reaches a hand up to scrub at the back of his neck. He’s smiling, all dimples and pink cheeks. For the first time tonight, you think maybe he’s just as nervous as you.

You try not to sound too happy when you speak, but it’s hard when you’re grin is so big. “Me too.”

Steve beams. His dark eyes are flecked with the fluorescent store lights behind you, neon colours glowing within his normal dark brown. He’s so pretty it hurts to look at him. Like an art piece in a museum marked ‘do not touch’.

You ignore the signs, step forwards into his space and touch your hand to his hip. It’s the lightest touch, but Steve makes a noise anyway, a little gasp that has you worried you’ve overstepped.

“Sorry,” you say, stepping away quickly, moving to shove your hands in your pockets. “I—”

“No, no.” Steve is quick to shut down your apologies, grabbing your wrist with lean fingers and pulling you back into his space. “C’mere, I’m sorry.”

He guides your hand back to his hip, pushes his hand over yours so it sits flat over the waistband of his jeans.

“You can touch me, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

You flush at the innuendo but you know that’s not what he means. You spread you fingers and push one of them through his belt loop. You watch his abdomen rise and fall with his breathing. Neither of you says anything. Then, slowly, slowly, you lift your eyes to his, chin tilted up so you can see his face.

He looks about as frazzled as you feel. Lips parted, eyelids low, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. You want to push it away, bury your hand in his hair.

He beats you to it.

His fingers find your hairline and follow it, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Do you maybe want to … do this again sometime?” he asks.

His hand lingers in the space between your shoulder and your neck, warm and soft and setting your skin aflame. You nod. How could you not?

“I’d like that,” you say. I like you, you almost add.

You think he already knows that.

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #✉️ #THIS HAS BEEN IN THE DRAFTS FOR SO LONG. SHE’S FINALLY FREE #everybody celebrate #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

steve harrington x gn!reader

summary: steve needs bribery to wash the dishes. fluff, established relationship

600 words

“What are you, three years old?”

Steve whined in response. Your boyfriend was currently draped across the couch like some sort of damsel in distress, head thrown against the cushions, arms out and drooping.

“I don’t want to do the dishes,” he complained. His tone was very toddler-esque. “There’s too many.”

You rolled your eyes. If Steve had been paying more attention to you than his dishes dilemma he would’ve noticed the fond smile playing on your lips. Luckily, he didn’t.

“But it’s your turn, Stevie. I did them yesterday.”

Steve groaned like he hadn’t agreed to do the dishes every second day months ago.

“Let’s get a divorce,” he announced. He finally sat up, probably to see your reaction to his heinous statement, propping his chin up on the back of the couch.

“We’re not married, Steve.”

He considered this. “Well, then let’s break up.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the room to stand behind the couch. Steve looked up at you with the expression of a kicked puppy. Drama queen.

“You can’t break up with me over dishes, my love,” you said patiently. You took Steve’s face in your hands, fingers splayed across his cheeks. “I’ll give you a kiss if you do them.”

Steve perked up hopefully. “Two kisses?”

You thought for a second, your fingers curling around to the back of his head, burying themselves in his soft hair. His pouty lips did look very kissable.

“Two now and two after,” you told him. Maybe more for yourself than him, but he didn’t need to know that.

It worked a treat. Steve scrambled onto his knees so he was eye-to-eye with you, his hands gripping the back of the couch.

“Deal,” he said, his breath fluttering over your lips.

You grinned. “Eager, are we?”

Leaning in, you covered Steve’s hands with yours and pressed a chaste kiss to his waiting lips. It was short and sweet and he was chasing your mouth with his when you pulled away.

You giggled, thumbs brushing over his knuckles. Steve grinned drunkenly, already puckering up for the next kiss.

You went to kiss him again, but got a shock when his hand shot out to grab your waist, tugging you into the couch. Your chest hit his and your lips collided, a surprised squeal falling from your mouth and into Steve’s.

Steve’s hands slid around to the small of your back and he didn’t waste any time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. You sighed, completely forgetting why you were doing this in the first place. His hair was soon occupied with your hands, tugging and smoothing until he was sighing, too.

A moment later you remembered yourself.

“Wait a minute,” you said against his mouth. You pulled away, bottom lip catching between his teeth. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Steve grinned lopsidedly. You were glad to see you weren’t the only one feeling dishevelled — his hair stuck up like he’d been electrocuted and his lips were shiny and bright pink.

“Sorry, darling,” Steve flirted, his hands warming you through your t-shirt. He freed one to push his hair back, charming and breathless all in one. “Got a little ahead of myself.”

Darling. You almost wanted to kiss him again.

“Apology unaccepted,” you quipped. You wrestled out of his grip though your heart wanted otherwise. “Now go do your part of the deal.”

Steve was all sunshine-and-rainbows again as he hopped off the couch — you suspected it had something to do with the prospect of more kisses. You watched him cross the living room and wink at you before disappearing into the kitchen. You didn’t let him see your smile.

A few minutes later you peeked into the kitchen to find Steve scrubbing away, hair falling into his eyes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and soapy bubbles smothering his forearms. You tried not to swoon.

Perhaps you’d give him a little more than two kisses when he was done.

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

steve blurbs!! yes!! maybe u could do some hurt/ comfort where reader has a very vivid nightmare and steve just tries to calm her down and bring her back to reality?? you’re the best thank u <33

lil baby blurb of protective bf steve!! I love him to bits

gn!reader

Steve is no stranger to nightmares.

Still, he’s surprised when you shake him awake, your fingers an iron grip on his shoulder.

“Steve,” you’re whispering, your voice cloudy with tears. “Steve.”

Steve blinks himself awake fast. He rolls over and sees your silhouette hovering over him.

“Babe, what’s—? Are you okay?” He sits up so fast it makes him dizzy. He ignores his throbbing head and instead takes your wrist in his hand. His fingers push into your pulse point. Your heart’s racing.

You give a great sob, a horrible, awful gasping noise that makes it sound like you can’t breathe. Steve panics, grabs your face in both hands like he can take some of whatever’s hurting you away. He would, if he could. He’d take it all.

It’s dark, he can barely see you, but your cheeks are hot and wet and more tears are coming in fast, dripping down your face and gushing over his fingers.

“Y/N?” Panic rises in Steve’s chest like bile. Any thoughts of sleep have been washed away by your distressed state and his need to make it better. “What’s the matter?”

You sniff, and Steve feels rather than sees you blink hard, another round of hot tears skipping over his hands.

“I … I had a bad dream,” you manage to get out. Your voice is all choppy and raw and it feels like a hot knife to Steve’s chest.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Steve releases your face and slides his arms around you, encircling you in a hold so tight it’s borderline bone crushing. You don’t mind, rather, you melt into it, your body going lax in his arms, face pressed into one side of his chest. You’re warm and you smell like you. Sweet. Sleepy. Steve rubs your back, hoping to ground you, to help you know that he’s real, and whatever you were dreaming about isn’t.

You’re still crying. Big gasping sobs, each one a punch to Steve’s gut. Your back shudders under his hands and he can feel your hot tears beginning to soak through the fabric his t-shirt.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers into your hair. He knows you know that, but he thinks you need to hear it out loud. “You’re okay, angel. I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t know how long he holds you, and he doesn’t care. He would hold you all night and more if he had to. Eventually your tears die down. Your breathing slows and your body stills. Steve knows you’re okay when you let out a lovely, long sigh, your chest pressing into his as you finally relax. Steve feels so relieved he could cry. He doesn’t, for your sake.

“D’you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, knowing you’ll probably say no.

You’re quiet as you answer. “No.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” Maybe in the morning.

Steve rubs careful, swooping lines onto your back, your t-shirt rising with his motions. Your bare skin is warm to touch, but still, goosebumps rise in his wake. His fingers push over the bumps of your spine, all the way up and then back down again. He’s pleasantly surprised when your arms push under his and loop around his waist. You pull yourself into him, practically in his lap, your face pushed into his chest.

Steve’s heart goes wild. He’s sure you can feel it. He let’s your t-shirt drop and strokes the back of your head with one hand. “You okay?”

You hum, a tired but pretty noise. Your nose presses into the space between his pecs.

“Should we lie down?”

You sound dead beat when you whisper, “Yeah.”

Steve lays you both down and doesn’t miss a beat in pulling you into him, one arm hooked under you and the other resting over his chest. Your thigh slots between his, half of you on top of half of him. Your head rests on his shoulder, facing him, and he can feel your warm breaths as they wash over his jaw and chin. He takes one of your hands in his, presses his thumb into your palm as the rest of his fingers curl around your wrist. He works his thumb into your palm in the way he knows you like.

“Get some rest, angel,” he tells you gently. “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. He’s never letting you go.

#★ mal writes! #ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #stevesmixtape!

[bruisedboys]

i just realized my last ask was so like straight to the point and rude 😭 but happy 3 million 🤭 but like saturn | maybe like baseball!steve seeing his girl at his practice and they get shakes after idk 😭🤭

lmao no you’re good soph 🤍 baseball steve makes me dizzy

gn!reader 0.6k words

You honestly didn’t think Steve Harrington could get any hotter. That is until you saw him swinging a baseball bat around like it was a fucking sword. You practically melted on the spot.

You’re sitting in the stands with Lucas as Steve’s practice comes to a close. You’d never admit it to anyone, not even Steve himself, but you’ve practically been drooling over him the entire time. Lucas has been graciously ignoring your obvious infatuation until now.

“Y/N.” He gives your shoulder a shake. “You’re staring.”

You blink. You’d been watching Steve pack up the gear with his team, his hair all sweaty and floppy and his arms practically bursting out of his jersey sleeves. The fabric on his jersey straining as he bends to scoop up a pile of equipment.

“Wasn’t staring,” you lie through your teeth. “Just observing.”

Lucas huffs like he doesn’t believe you, but it’s all in good nature. He knows you could bring up all the times you’ve caught him staring at Max, if you wanted to.

“Whatever you say.” Lucas rolls his eyes and stands up. “M’gonna go see where Max went. See you around, lovebird.”

He shoves your shoulder and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. He’s only been gone about ten seconds when you hear your name from the pitch.

“Y/N!”

You eyes zero in on Steve, who’s gazing up at you with a hand over his eyes to block the sun. The pitch is mostly empty. You beam and wave, clambering down the rows of seats til you reach the bottom one. Steve jogs to meet you there and scoops you up into his arms when you do, spinning you around in the air til you’re breathless and giggling.

“Steve!” You squeal, hands braced on his firm shoulders.

He laughs from his chest, a lovely, hearty sound, and sets you down on the grass. You’re both smiley as you catch your breath.

“How’d I do today, angel?” He asks, setting his hands on his hips. One of his teammates calls his name from the edge of the pitch. Steve turns and they exchange a wave and then he’s right back in your personal space.

You wrinkle your nose teasingly. He smells like sweat and grass. “I don’t know anything about baseball, Stevie,” you deadpan. “You did look quite handsome, though.”

Steve’s laugh is surprised and fond and makes your chest burn. He shrugs and his grin is staggering. “That’s good enough for me.”

You grin and push yourself up on your toes to kiss him. He meets you halfway with all the eagerness in the world, hands on your biceps and mouth greedy. He kisses you so sweetly you could cry, but with enough fervour that your stomach explodes with butterflies.

When he pulls away you’re gasping for breath. You look up at Steve and find him looking about frazzled as you feel.

“You need to take a shower,” you say, pulling a face. Anything to stop him looking at you like that.

Steve fakes hurt and rolls his eyes. “You’re such a priss,” he says with less heat than a box of ice.

You scoff and shove him in the chest. He doesn’t move an inch.

“Seriously,” you say. “You’re gross and sweaty.”

He is sweaty, but he’s far from gross. He’s hot, with his damp hair and his burly arms, grass stains on his knees and a stripe of sweat on his forehead. It’s driving you mad.

Steve huffs. “Can we at least get milkshakes first? I promised Lucas and Max I’d drive them to the diner after.”

You sigh. There he goes again, using the kids as an excuse to get what he wants. The worst part is, it works on you.

“Fine,” you say begrudgingly. Or not so much. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if Steve stayed like this forever.

#★ mal writes! #✿ 300 celebration! #ღ stevie #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stevesmixtape!