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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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Hi hi! I’m sure you’re being flooded, but I’d love a little something about younger (20 or older though!) reader babysitting for dad! Steve. Smutty if you feel so inclined. Can be single or not, dealer’s choice!

I went wayyyy overboard with this, oops, but it was so sexy omfg

word count: 2k

warnings: huge age gap (45+ vs 20), unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral m receiving, sliiiightly mean dom steve, size kink, stomach bulge kink, daddy kink

You'd been crushing on Mr. Harrington for years, actually... even before the divorce.

It wasn't just that he was good-looking, although that was obviously part of it. It was the way he acted with you, it made you feel all girly and little and dumb; it was the way he played with his kids which made your uterus sob in envy; it was the way he wore reflective shades to the pool and you had to wonder if he was looking at you and seeing how much you'd grown.

For the longest, much to your dismay, nothing happened between you. You'd been trying to make conversation after he came back each night to finish your babysitting shift, but it never really worked. Nothing worked, actually, not even the skimpy outfits or the strategic bending over or the casual touches to his arm or knee.

Nothing worked until last night.

It started mostly normal, except that he was obviously in a worse mood than usual. You asked how his date went; he dodged the question. You pressed again, and he shook his head as he sat down on the couch, running his hands over his hair.

"It's starting to feel futile," he explained, speaking quietly knowing his kids were asleep down the hall.

"What is?"

"All of it," he breathed. "Dating, work, all of it."

You sat next to him, pulling your knees up on the sofa and tilting your head sympathetically. "Tell me about it," you offered.

Amazingly, he did. He told you about how each woman he went out with was worse than the last, and he didn't trust any of them with his kids. That made your heart skip; I'm his babysitter, he trusts me with his kids.

He told you about how rough the divorce had been, and then the custody arrangements. Apparently he was still dealing with that even though Mrs. Harrington had moved out probably almost two years ago now.

He told you about how hard his job was, how the hours killed him, how he could barely find time to spend with his family because he was putting out everyone else's fires at the office.

"That all sounds really stressful, Mr. Harrington," you cooed when he finished his rant. "You need to relax."

He chuckled a little. "Easier said than done."

"Maybe I can help you."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but his eyes went wide as he watched you get on your knees on the ground.

"Let me help you relax, Mr. Harrington," you pleaded, running your hands over his legs gently as they stayed slightly spread on the couch.

"Oh, uh— I— sweetie, we can't—"

You reached up to his belt, and even if his words were hesitant, he lifted his hips slightly to make it easier for you to unbuckle it.

"Are you— fuck— are you really—? Baby..."

It made your hips wiggle against the carpet hearing him talk like that. You got his fly open next, and started to rub his cock through his boxers underneath. His eyes followed your every move in disbelief.

He was just starting to get hard when you took him out, but he was already so big... your mouth was watering. You couldn't wait any longer: you looked up at him for just a second before you leaned forward and took his fat head into your mouth.

Groaning and tilting his head back, his hands found purchase in your hair instantly.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, "you're... you're so bad, sweetie, you know you shouldn't... oh my god."

You bobbed your head eagerly, feeling him swell and harden against your tongue until your mouth was stretched to its limit by his size. You hummed around him joyfully, revelling in the softly salty taste on your tongue. Stroking with your hand what your lips couldn't reach, you took a break after a few minutes to look up at him for approval.

"Where'd a sweet girl like you learn how to do that?" he asked with a long sigh. "Fuck, keep sucking... look up at me, baby."

You did as you were told, and he adjusted his hips slightly so it was easier for you to keep eye contact with him while you suckled at his throbbing head.

"Good," he praised, stroking your cheek as you worked. "Such pretty eyes... and that pretty mouth too, god. Take it deeper, sweetie, you can choke a little."

His hand helped push you down until his dick hit the end of your throat, and you gagged helplessly. He moaned loudest at that, eyes falling shut for a moment.

"Too big for your little mouth, huh?" he noticed. "Poor baby. Choke on me again."

You did as he said and noticed his hips rocking up to push his cock even deeper and gag you even harder. Tears welled in your eyes but he purred in satisfaction.

"Mm, good job," he praised, "you're so good for me, sweetie."

Needing a break for your throat, you pulled back and stroked him slowly as you made conversation. "How long has it been since somebody sucked your cock, Mr. Harrington?" you asked sweetly.

"Fuck, I don't even know— years? Before Allie was born, probably. She didn't... she never did it, really," he mumbled, and you tried not to bite your lip. Of course his bitch ex-wife never did this to him, he was probably so starved for affection for ages.

"That's such a shame," you pouted, "it tastes so good. I'd never be able to stop tasting you, Mr. Harrington."

"Then don't stop," he encouraged, pushing your head down again. You got back into the pattern, only taking breaks to lathe the shaft in long licks from base to tip; he seemed to like those a lot.

Sometimes you felt his cock throb and you hoped it meant he would come soon: you couldn't wait. You went on for a while longer, though, and started to get desperate for it. When his heavy breathing made you pretty sure he was close, you broke the pattern one more time to encourage him. "I want you to come in my mouth," you informed him. "M'gonna swallow it, sir, I promise."

"No, fuck no," he interrupted, surprising you. "No, I want that pussy. Fuck, I need your pussy, get up here."

You climbed onto the couch eagerly, straddling his lap as he started to pull your skirt up right away. He snapped your panties off like it was nothing, instantly groaning at the sight of your mound beneath; you felt so exposed in the best way, you worried you were going to drip right down onto his khakis with him looking at you like that.

"Fuck, sweetie, you're so gorgeous," he sighed, "such a gorgeous little pussy. C'mere..."

He held your thighs, petting them as he guided you down to his cock. He stopped looking at it once he was just barely pushing inside, instead starting to watch your face as you sank down onto his length with a moan. "Fuck!" you whimpered. "Fuck, too big, you're too—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed, "gotta be quiet, baby, the kids are asleep."

Your gut burned from how stupidly hot that was, and you bit your lip to try to keep it down. His cock reached the end of you and you jolted, trying to move back up, but he shook his head and kept guiding you down.

"No, sweetie, you need to take all of me," he scolded gently. "You're gonna take all of me, fuck, so good..."

Finally, somehow, he managed to get it all inside until your thighs were flush with his. You were shaking, it was so deep you were shaking; there was a slight bulge in your tummy where his cock filled you. "Mr. Harrington, it's too deep..."

He growled, actually growled, and held your hips tightly. "No, baby, it's just the right amount. You're taking me so good... all of my cock is in you, sweetie, you're doing so fucking good. Now just ride me."

Shaking and whimpering, you started to rock your hips on top of his; he sighed and watched you, looking wrecked in the best way.

"Yeah, fuck," he encouraged, "fuck, you know how long it's been since I had pussy like this? Tight, wet, young pussy like yours? You feel so fucking good..."

"You too," you moaned, "you feel so good, Mr. Harrington..."

He smirked a bit. "I think we're on a first name basis by now... but I want you to keep calling me that anyways. It's so fucking cute."

Pulling you a little closer, he whispered right by your ear.

"Maybe," he suggested, "you could even call me daddy."

"Oh, daddy," you pounced on the opportunity immediately, and he groaned in satisfaction. "Daddy, it feels really really good..."

"Yeah? Well then why don't you cream for me, huh? Let that cute little pussy come on my cock—"

You didn't even let him finish. You'd been worked up since he got here and it hit you all at once. He watched you proudly, thin laughter ringing in your ears.

"God, you're so sensitive," he groaned, "it's gonna take me a while, baby, I'm not as young as you... takes me all night sometimes."

You shuddered; "I don't have anywhere to be..."

"Yeah you do," he corrected, starting to guide your hips as your motions faltered from the exhaustion of coming. "Your parents are probably worried about you, sweetie. They don't know what a slut you are, do they?"

You shook your head. "N-no, daddy..."

"Fuck," he breathed, "you're so cute... show daddy your tits, sweetie— lift up your shirt for me and show me your tits."

He was more than capable of doing it himself, but he preferred to watch you roll up your tank top and let him see your tits, hardened from being so turned on by all this. You'd stopped wearing a bra around him months ago, and it was all worth it as he reached up and palmed one of your breasts.

"Mm," he hummed, "you've got great tits, baby— you show them off too much, though."

He slid his hand across your chest to touch the other gently. "I only did that for you, Mr. Harrington," you promised, "I just wanted your attention... wanted you to see how grown up I am..."

He smirked. "You got my fucking attention, sweetie."

With renewed energy, you started to take control again, riding him in earnest. "Really?" you confirmed hopefully. "Did you think about me, daddy? Did you ever jerk off and think about my tits?"

He delayed his answer by hissing a little, looking down at where your pussy slid up and down on him before tilting his head back again. "Yes," he admitted, "yeah, I thought about you. I would've done it a lot more if I knew you wanted me to."

"Of course I wanted you to," you giggled, "I have such a big crush on you, Mr. Harrington, I have for so long..."

"A crush, huh?" he laughed.

You nodded eagerly, whining when he held onto you tighter and started to thrust up into you off the couch.

"You know I'm more than twice your age, right?" he reminded you with a purr, and you nodded. "You know I'm older than your dad, right?"

Your head was spinning, but you nodded again.

"And you know I could get you pregnant... right?"

You moaned, head falling back, and he laughed.

"I knew it," he gloated, "I knew that was what you wanted— knew you needed some babies fucked into you, sweet girl. Daddy's gonna knock you up, s'that what you want?"

"Yes, yes!" you sobbed.

You weren't moving at all now, you were limp and useless as he thrust up into you hard and fast, making you cry and moan so loudly he had to cover your mouth. "I'll come, fuck, nice and deep," he promised, "and give you a baby, yeah? Get you so full and pregnant, just how you want it."

You were begging him for it, but it was all muffled into nonsense under his hand as he fucked up into you rough and fast. It ended with a groan, his head falling back and his body going limp under you as he came. You collapsed onto him, both of you sinking into the couch as you caught your breath.

His hands rested on your thighs still, sometimes petting them or moving up to your waist; you shyly hid your face in the crook of his neck, hardly believing that this really happened— and terrified you would wake up and realize it was all a wonderful dream. "Think I'm gonna need you to babysit for me again tomorrow night," he broke the silence suddenly. "I'll pay double for the short notice."

"I'll do it for free," you replied.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #dad!steve harrington

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sunshinesteviee · 6 months

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quality time - s.h.

summary: steve has some quality time with his newborn wc: 1.1k warnings: descriptions of steve's scars, dad!steve & mom!reader a/n: so i'm pretty sure this was originally a request from an anon literally forever ago, but i cannot for the life of me find the ask, i'm so so sorry! it's been a while since i've posted, so just a lil something for y'all. hope you enjoy! <3

Masterlist

“You wanna hold him again, love?” you ask your husband in a murmur, barely able to pull your gaze up from your newborn. He’s tiny and perfect, and you just can’t get enough of him, even after a couple of hours.

Steve’s perched next to you on the bed, one strong arm around your body. His thumb traces short, gentle lines over the hill of your shoulder, nose pressing against your temple as he gazes down at your son, “Mhm, yeah, if—“

“You better not be saying ‘if it’s okay with me’, he’s your son, too, Steve. Here, you take him,” you elbow him gently, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. It’s adorable, but totally not necessary.

His cheeks flame red as he carefully takes the bundle of blankets from you, sheepish as he mumbles, “That’s not what I was gonna say—“

“Save it, baby, I know you better than that.”

He huffs but doesn’t say anything, immediately drawn to his baby boy in his arms instead. He looks like a mini version of you, your nose and eyes that he loves so much; it makes his heart grow ten times bigger. He does have a full head of hair that’s definitely the Harrington gene, though. And maybe he has Steve’s lips, too.

Steve pulls his arms up, pressing a kiss to his head gently before he moves towards the chair in the corner of the room that he’s claimed as his. Just as he’s about to settle into the chair, a nurse enters the room to check on everyone. She smiles at the sight of your baby boy in Steve’s arms and says, “You know, there’s a lot of benefits of doing skin-to-skin with your newborn. Especially for dad and baby. Helps to regulate baby, and is great for bonding with your baby. Wanna give it a try?”

You expect Steve to say no. Not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to, but you can count the number of times you’ve seen him with his shirt off in public on one hand. After his time in the upside down, he’s marred with scars. Deep ones that eat into his sides and pucker his skin, that are rough and not pleasant to look at. The first time he’d gotten up the courage to take off his shirt at the pool, scars still fresh and pink, he’d gotten incredulous looks and nasty stares. He’d quickly learned that it was better to keep his clothes on to keep the questions to a minimum. He wasn’t ashamed, it was just easier that way. The only times Steve took his shirt off in public was if it was around people who knew what had happened, and even then, sometimes he didn’t want to. The scars were a reminder of all the shit they’d been through, and sometimes it was easier to pretend they didn’t exist.

So, to say you’re surprised when Steve immediately agrees is an understatement. You watch in shock — and admiration — as Steve hands your son back to you for a moment so he can pull his shirt over his head. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him remove his shirt so quickly, even after all your years together. The bite-shaped scars, though not as prominent as they once were, are on full display, still slightly pink and raised against his tan skin. If the nurse notices, she doesn’t say anything; she only smiles, suppressing a laugh as Steve trades you his shirt for your son.

He takes him carefully, as if your son is made of glass and could break at any moment. He handles him so delicately it makes your heart burst, and you cradle Steve’s shirt to your own chest. Steve finally sits down, placing his little boy in his lap so he can unwrap the blankets and get him out of his tiny onesie. It’s so small that it nearly makes you cry, even more so as you watch your husband lift your son back up and lay him against his chest once the onesie has been set aside.

He pauses for a moment, not quite comfortable in the chair yet, eyes flicking to the nurse in the corner of the room as he asks, “It’s not— he’s not gonna be too cold, right?”

“Not at all! Skin to skin is actually great for regulating a baby’s body temperature. He’ll be just fine.”

Steve considers what she’s saying and then nods, finally leaning back into his chair, holding your boy to his chest, “Yeah. Okay, yeah, that’s good.” For someone who had been almost as terrified about being a dad as he was excited, he’s taking to it quickly, just like you knew he would. You knew his insecurities had more to do with his parents than his own ability to be a parent, and so far, he’s already proving himself wrong.

The newborn scrunch is in full effect, your son’s tiny limbs tucked mostly underneath his body against Steve’s chest. He looks content, and you honestly can’t blame him — Steve’s chest is also one of your favorite places to be. Your husband looks just as content; one hand covering the entirety of your son’s back, fingers behind his head for support, the other hand on his small, diaper-covered bum to keep him in place. Steve’s eyes flutter closed after a few moments, settling back into the chair comfortably.

There’s a Polaroid camera sitting on the bedside table next to you, and you reach for it so you can take a picture. You want to remember this. Not only for the sweet moment, but also for Steve’s clear and immediate love for his little boy. The noise of the camera is a lot louder than you anticipated, and Steve cracks one eye open, sending you the best fake glare he can muster with just one eye. It’s ridiculous and it makes you laugh behind your hand, not wanting to wake your sleeping baby. You murmur a half-hearted apology as the picture prints, not really meaning it.

Steve snorts his own laugh, his chest moving enough for your little boy to grunt quietly in protest, shifting his position against Steve. Quick to soothe, Steve pats at his tiny back gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama’s interrupting our quality time, huh? She had nine whole months with you, and she just has to interrupt us.”

“Steve,” you giggle, shaking your head as you hold up the now developed picture, “I was trying to capture the moment!”

“Shhh, we’re bonding!”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #sunshinesteviee #sunshinesteviee writing

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madelynraemunson · 1 month

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

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missclarasoufflegirl · 1 year

Text

Steve who so badly wants his little girl to play sports, but she's completely uninterested in it. But one day he and Eddie pick her up from grandpa Wayne's and she's wearing a droopy pink tutu, but has never looked happier, so they sign her up for classes.

It starts with ballet ("It's the foundation of all dance Steve, it's necessary for her development as a dancer" Dustin tells them), but their little girl heard the noisy ringing of tap shoes one day, and quickly added that to her repertoire.

Saturday mornings were now spent at the studio with the other dance moms. Steve was the star of the waiting room ("She's so lucky to have a dad that's interested in her dancing", "He's perfected the ballet bun, her hair is always perfect", "his wife is so lucky"), so it shocked all the moms when Eddie waltzed in one day with a screwdriver to tighten a loose tap screw, kissed Steve on the cheek, then stopped to watch the class. The moms were hesitant at first, but Eddie became part of their group soon enough.

Eddie, ever the crafty one, was a master with fabric glue. He became the go-to for costume needs, stoning leotards, sewing ribbons, painting shoes. Their little girl was a natural, and if didn't take them long to step into a routine to support their little dancer.

The boys could drop their little girl off backstage, but dads weren't allowed in the dressing rooms at the theater, so Steve and Eddie enlisted the help of Nancy to make sure she was in costume for her call time. (Nancy helped fix her makeup too because unfortunately, her dads had quite the heavy hand).

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), Eddie was the more competitive of the two. He gripped Steve's hand as soon as her number was called, lips pursed as he nodded along with all her cues. He whispered a small "yes!" as she landed her pirouette, and a "that's my girl" when all the sounds of her four-count pickup came out clearly. Steve, on the other hand, was an emotional wreck. She could have gone out there and done the chicken dance and Steve would have thought it was the greatest thing in the world. When the routine was done, both of them stood and cheered, clapping Wayne on the back knowing they wouldn't be there without him.

Their little girl found them after the show, holding a bouquet of roses nearly as big as she was. Eddie picked her up and Steve took the flowers from her, and she smiled at both of them with a big toothy grin, glitter dusting Eddie's leather jacket. "Hey Daddy, I was wonderful!"

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie dads #dad!steve harrington #dad!eddie munson #this is so stupid #i just have a lot od feelings about dance moms steddie

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stvharrngton · 4 months

Note

hii! i don’t really request things but i was thinking about something with steve and i had to share it

dilf steve.

imagine if he’s dropping off your kid at daycare or something and he keeps getting hit on by other moms, and gets invited to a party and obviously he brings us along

and he keeps getting hit on at the party and we’re jealous the whole time and very touchy with steve 🤭

i love this idea i just hope i did it justice 😭

pairing: dad!steve x mom!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none really, some flirty behaviour, kissing

requests are open!

“Dad?”

“Yes, baby?” Steve asked, eyes darting to the rear view mirror to get a glance of his daughter strapped safely into her car seat in the back.

“Where’s Mommy?” your inquisitive and curious baby girl, Ivy, asked. Her tiny hands fiddling with the straps of her car seat.

“Mom works early, remember, bug? So Dad takes you to daycare.” Steve said with a chuckle as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the daycare.

After setting the car in park and unstrapping your daughter from her seat, he scooped her up in his arms, spinning her round before settling her on his hip. She giggled wildly and it was music to Steve’s ears every single time.

“You all set for school, baby?” Steve asked, hiking up her backpack that was slung over his shoulder. He was about to set her down so she could run off and play before he was approached by one of the other moms.

“Oh, Mr. Harrington!” Ms. Burkley, Phoebe’s Mom chimed sweetly, waving her manicured hand around frantically to catch his attention.

Steve pursed his lips together in a polite smile, thinking of nothing worse than engaging in this conversation right now. Ms. Burkley was part of a group of Moms at the daycare that took a particular shine to Steve. Flirted with him at every opportunity they got, despite the ring that so obviously sat on his finger.

“Oh, hey, Ms. Burkley.” Steve replied, nevertheless, offering a wave and a polite smile, your daughter still clutching at his side.

“Please, it’s Amanda, how many times have I told you!” she joked, playfully slapping him on the shoulder. Too many times, Steve thought as his eyes glanced to where the woman’s hand had just been.

It was almost as if they sniffed him out one by one. As soon as one of them had seen him arrive at daycare, the rest of them sensed he had arrived. One by one the group became larger, the Moms surrounding Steve, each and every one shamelessly flirting with the man.

One of the older ones piped up, Steve thought her name was Karen or Kelly maybe, “Oh, Steve,” she chirped, “we’re having a get together at my house on Friday. You should come! We’d all love to see you there but leave the little one with a sitter.”

Steve raised an eyebrow in suspicion, his head turning to glance at your daughter who was babbling to herself and something or other. Karen, or Kelly, handed Steve a small piece of paper which he assumed was some sort of invitation with her street address on it.

“Right, thanks,” Steve murmured, shoving the card in his jacket pocket, “well, I better get going, ladies. Best get Ivy into her teacher. Say bye, honey.” Steve urged her but she wouldn’t budge, still clinging onto Steve’s side for dear life.

The day soon rolled to a close and you and Steve were getting ready for bed. Steve heard you click the light off in your en-suite, rubbing the last of your moisturiser into your skin, Steve already settled in your soft bed.

“Hey, honey?” he called out to you, his thumb rubbing over the piece of paper he was given earlier, “You’ll never guess what happened to me today.”

You appeared through the threshold as you made your way to your side of the bed, “What’s that, babe?”

“I got invited to a party,” he smirked as he handed you the makeshift invitation.

“Did you go to pick up girls whilst Ivy was in school?” you teased, your eyes scanning over the name and address on the paper, written in pink cursive.

“Oh, come on, baby,” he cooed, scooting up closer to you, “you know there’s no one else for me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his lips smattering kisses over any skin he could find. His fingertips digging into the skin beneath your pyjamas. You whisper-shouted for him to stop between your fit of laughter, careful not to wake your sleeping daughter.

“Is this from one of those Moms at the daycare?” you asked, reading the swirly pink writing on the paper once more. Steve nodded.

Steve had told you previously about the flirty Moms at Ivy’s daycare, how they’d oggle him up and down, laugh at anything he said, even if it wasn’t funny. You laughed it off, but this seemed a little odd. It caught you off guard.

“Are you gonna go?” you asked, voice quiet as you set the invite on the side table next to your bed.

“We’re gonna go,” Steve insisted, “so I can show off my pretty wife.”

You were by no way insecure in your relationship, in your marriage, with Steve. You knew he worshipped the ground you walked on, you knew he didn’t have eyes for anyone else. But you couldn’t lie, the thought of rubbing their faces in it did sound kind of fun.

Friday soon rolled around, you dropped Ivy off at Robin’s and made your way to the address that was written on the paper. You stood side by side with your arms linked as you rang the doorbell, Steve with a six pack in hand and you with a plate of muffins you’d baked.

Kelly or Karen answered the door, a huge grin on her face when she saw Steve. Her gaze panned to you and the smile softened, you could see the confusion behind her eyes that he didn’t come alone.

“Steve!” she chirped all shrill like, “I’m so glad you made it.” She reached a hand out to clutch at his bicep before taking the six pack from his arm. “And who’s this?” she asked, her gaze casting towards you once more, her perfectly painted red lips pursing together.

Steve began to speak before you interjected, extending your hand for her to shake, “Oh, I’m Steve’s wife.” You answered matter-of-factly, a smug smile on your face.

The party seemed to be in full swing, as boring as it may be. Steve kept getting carted off, dragged from pillar to post, by someone different each time it seemed. To look at a classic car stored away in the garage, or old basketball trophies that Steve didn’t really care about. So you nursed the same glass of wine you’d had for the past hour, accompanied by one of the other Moms from the daycare you actually knew well.

You were mid conversation, laughing casually at something someone said when you caught a glance of Steve to your side in the kitchen. The lady whose house this was, you still didn’t know her name and frankly, you didn’t care to either, was leaning over the kitchen island in her low cut dress with everything on show. They were talking about something, you had no idea what, but she had a look in her eye and kept twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. You all but lost it when she moved from around the counter, her hand on Steve’s bicep once more but her other on his chest this time.

“Excuse me.” You mumbled, smiling to your company politely. You watched as you got closer, how Steve tried to back up step by step, to shirk himself away from her touch, his shoulders tense. He soon faltered when he felt your hand smooth across his back, your fingers travelling downwards until your hand was snuggly in the back pocket of his Levi’s.

“Oh, hey, honey!” Steve exclaimed, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He slung his arm over your shoulder, beer bottle in hand, pulling you closer.

“Hey, handsome,” you purred, your fingers reaching up to his chin, tickling the light scruff that resided there before they settled on his cheek, pulling him in for a slightly over the top kiss. Steve smirked against your lips, knowing exactly what you were doing. You licked your lips when you pulled away, a glint in your eye, “oh, sorry,” you chuckled, “am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Steve hummed. You both cast your eyes to the poor disgruntled woman standing on the other side of Steve, a scowl on her face as she sulked in her pretty red dress. She stormed off and you both sniggered in her wake.

“Can we go outside? I need some air.” You entwined your fingers with Steve’s larger ones, pulling him outside through the already open patio doors.

The spring air was cool on your skin, Steve noticing the chill that shivered through you, immediately shedding his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. “You okay?” Steve murmured, fingers stroking at your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Peachy,” you hummed. Big doe eyes blinking up at your husband before you peered back inside of the house, catching a glimpse of the famous group of flirty Moms.

“You’re not– you’re not jealous, are you?” Steve posed, holding your face in his large hands so softly, chuckling in disbelief. “Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you know you have nothing to be jealous about, I’m yours.”

“I know,” you shrugged, hooking your arms around Steve’s neck as his moved to your waist, pulling you flush against his body, “but I still don’t like it.”

A pretty little pout formed on your lips, your eyes still wandering inside of the house to see if they were still watching. Steve turned to where your gaze was focused, noticing the other ladies watching your every move, rolling their eyes in tandem. Steve sighed, his eyes falling back on you.

“C’mere,” he whispered, pulling you into him. Steve brushed his lips against yours softly, your lips fitting together perfectly. You melted into the kiss, momentarily forgetting where you were, stood in some stranger’s backyard, making out with your husband. Steve licked into you all pretty, sighing into your lips, “Y’know, Robin still has Ivy for a couple hours… Wanna get outta here?”

You felt the heat creep up on your cheeks at his suggestion, pondering it over in your mind. “Actually, can we stay for a little longer?” you asked, your finger drawing shapes across his firm chest, “Making them jealous is kinda fun. You could have me sit on your lap in front of them all whilst I laugh hysterically at all your bad jokes, Stevie.”

Steve feigned offence, his eyebrows raised in shock as his hair shook with the sudden takeback. “You’re saying you don’t really find my jokes funny? Well, honey, I’m offended.” “Oh, shut up, Harrington.” you giggled, swatting at his chest, “Let’s go back inside, then you can take me home.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #dad!steve harrington #k.fic #request #cherripieee #asks

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roanniom · 9 months

Text

What Comes After

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: When Steve waits too long after you give birth to initiate sex, you take matters into your own hands.

Note: I know very very little about pregnancy and the aftermath. Most of this comes from what I read in other fics, what I’ve vaguely heard from my friends, and a 5 min google search about lactation. Sorry in advance if this is incorrect.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, angst that resolves, mentions of pregnancy / babies / parenthood, PIV/unprotected sex, lactation during sex

After you give birth to your baby, you completely assumed Steve would be itching to ravish you the minute your doctor gave the all clear. In fact, you’d been mentally preparing yourself for that since before you went into labor. Those first few weeks afterwards were as rough as people had warned you and then some, but you couldn’t imagine it without your Steve.

Steve who was there beside you for absolutely everything. Late night feedings, mid day crying sessions, general panic attacks about how to do anything right for the first time, really. You’d wake up to hear him in the next room, holding and rocking your daughter back to sleep, his hushed voice soothing her whimpers and in turn lulling you back to rest.

It’s not that you thought the man capable of being such a loving, gentle partner in this new stage of life would turn into some ravenous monster at the first suggestion of sex. It’s just that he’d always been such an attentive, eager, enthusiastic lover, and that had only magnified as your pregnancy had gone on. Your hormones had made you insatiable, especially toward the end. Steve had very much gotten used to you needing to use him like a toy often - sometimes multiple times a day. So it just stands to reason that he would be absolutely itching to get back to it.

But the day of your follow up doctor's appointment came and went and...nothing. You'd come home and let him know the good news, a way smile on your face as you braced for his celebration. Steve had just looked at you over the baby's head where he had her cradled to his chest and smiled.

"Glad to hear you're healing up right, sweetheart!"

And that was that.

You'd assumed maybe he was holding himself back for your daughter's sake. So that night you'd climbed into bed wearing something slightly nicer than the long flowy nightgowns you'd taken to sporting the last few months. You applied a bit of perfume at your pulse points and rubbed a little lotion on your legs. Steve walked in shortly after running a final sweep of the apartment, making sure everything is off and locked up (he's fallen perfectly into the protective father stereotype), and when he crossed the threshold you beamed at him.

"Look at you. All smiley and beautiful and cozy," Steve cooed, sliding into bed beside you. His arms encircled you and pulled you against his body and again, you felt yourself steeling your nerves, ready for the inevitable escalation. So much so that you leaned up to initiate yourself, pressing your lips against your husband's throat. Steve hummed against your ministrations before doing the last thing you thought he'd do - he kissed the top of your head and turned you in his arms, nestling you into a warm, firm grip.

"Good night, baby. Love you," he whispered in your ear.

And that was that.

You'd been pretty surprised by the lack of action. A little rattled actually. But as Steve's breathing evened out and his arms around you became heavier with sleep, you'd reminded yourself that you hadn't really felt ready anyway. Your feelings of rejection assuaged, you'd allowed sleep to take you with him.

However, as the weeks wore on, you were less and less able to ignore the nagging feeling.

With each passing day that your husband didn't initiate sex, you began worrying more and more that he didn't want you anymore. Your postpartum hormones had you feeling wildly unfounded emotions, and you had to keep reminding yourself that they were unfounded because the evidence of Steve's actions didn't line up with your suspicions.

Steve was nothing but physical with you in the aftermath of the birth of your daughter. Constantly coming up behind you and wrapping you in his arms. Constantly showering your face and neck with kisses when he entered any room. Pulling you down to sit in his lap when you finally put the baby down for a nap or for the night. His hands were on you at all times.

Not to mention the fact that you had woken up multiple times in the middle of the night (needing to pee) to the feeling of his hard cock nestled against your curves, his arms pulling you that much tighter against him when you tried to get up.

All of these mixed messaged led to you feeling extremely confused. So much so that you did the first thing you could think of besides confronting the issue head on (because of course you weren't going to ask Steve directly, that would be too mature).

"Why hasn't he...what?!" Eddie's eyes practically bulge out of his head in response to your question. You narrow your eyes at him in contrast.

Steve has run out to get some Chinese food since "Uncle Eddie" has come over for a movie night. The different members of the gang have been coming over each weekend to help you two out and also give you a much needed dose of friendship normalcy. Eddie is sitting on your couch, your daughter in his arms, as you sit beside him with your arms crossed.

"Why hasn't he fucked me since I gave birth?" you repeat expectantly. Eddie does his best to cover the baby's ears.

"There is literally a child - your child - present, you slut," Eddie accuses in a stage whisper. You laugh out loud at that.

"First of all, she can't understand a single word that's being said. And second of all, you can't call me a slut in front of my child." You move to smack him but Eddie ducks, giving you a cheeky smile.

Eddie might be really close with Steve, but you'd very much stolen him as a best friend in your own right. As it stands, Steve has Robin and you have Eddie, that's pretty much the loyalty line. So you attempt to lean on that loyalty to solve your problem.

"C'mon, Eds," you pout. "I'm really dying here."

Eddie's eyes go wide again and he puts his hand back over your sleeping daughter's exposed ear, pressing her other ear further against his chest.

"You're really missing dick that bad?" he whispers. You shrug.

"Not just dick. Steve's dick." It comes out in a whine that has Eddie chuckling. "I'm just worried he doesn't want -,"

"Well shut right the fuck up," Eddie cuts you off with an emphatic shake of his head. "It definitely isn't that he doesn't want you."

"Aha. So you do know more than you were letting on. Spill, Munson." You lean towards him and Eddie realizes he's gotten himself stuck in something he would rather have avoided. He scratches his head with his free hand.

"It's nothing. Really. It's..."

You stare daggers into him and his shoulders sag.

"He's really scared of hurting you."

You blink at that.

"Hurting me?"

Eddie looks extremely uncomfortable, shifting in his seat and looking down at the baby before looking back up at you.

"He read one of those baby books and it said that husbands can...you know...get amorous too soon and..."

You laugh incredulously, but Eddie looks like he wants to jump out of the second story window of your apartment.

"You're laughing, but he mentioned it to Robin and Robin said that it was 100% true and that he could...I don't know...rip you open or some shit-"

"Eddie!" you cut your friend off before he can make himself any more uncomfortable. "I mean, yes. It's true. But I've been cleared by the doctor. It's been like...months since that would have been something to worry about."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at that. The baby fusses quietly in his arms and he automatically bounces his knee to rock her just slightly, soothing her. Despite the nature of your conversation, the whole image melts your heart.

"Look, princess," Eddie says quietly, pulling out his long-used nickname for you. "Steve loves you pretty much more than any one human can possibly love someone. And you know I hate complimenting that asshole."

You snort in response but he continues.

"I'm sure it's killing him, too, to not be...intimate. Have you talked to him about it?"

"I told him that the doctor said it was okay..." you reply, kind of avoiding the question. Eddie groans, dropping his head against the back of the couch.

"This isn't one of those things where you come to me for help and I find out you haven't even tried doing anything to fix it first, is it?"

"Edward Munson, how could you ask me that?" you ask with faux insult. Eddie rolls his head to the side to look at you.

"I can ask you that because of the time you thought Steve wanted to just be friends with you and instead of talking to him you cried to me."

"That's - "

"And that time you thought he'd been sneaking around behind your back, even though all he was doing was planning his proposal."

"Okaaay, Eddie."

"And the time - ,"

"Alright shut up," you snap, not holding back your laughter. You bite your lip and look back at your friend holding your baby, the product of your love with Steve. You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Fine. Maybe I need to do something myself."

"Ya think?" Eddie asks with a grin that says he's way too pleased with himself.

"But you're going to help me."

Eddie's smile turns into an overdramatic frown.

"Why do I have to do anything? It's your sex life, slut."

"Because you love me," you say simply, batting your eyelashes. Eddie goes to respond but in that exact moment your daughter decides to wake up, stretching and giving the cutest tiny yawn in the entire world, melting the metal head in front of you. He glances up at you begrudgingly and then kisses the baby on her nose. Gazing down at her, he coos.

"Guess I'm gonna help your mommy get laid. Again."

~*~

It's about a week later by the time your plan can finally be put into action.

Steve comes home at the end of a long Friday at Family Video, ready to spend the night with his two girls. He runs in the door of your shared apartment and heads straight to the nursery so quickly he doesn't have enough time to register his surroundings. The dimmed lights, the lit candles, the soft music playing. When he reaches the nursery and finds the crib empty, however, Steve's blinders come off.

"Honey? Honey where are you?" Steve asks, calling out and walking back into the living room, unsettled.

That’s when you step out of your bedroom, leaning against the doorway in a silky robe.

“Right here, Stevie.”

Steve’s jaw drops open at the sight of you, all the air knocked from his lungs. He blinks rapidly. Seemingly unable to process what’s going on.

“Baby…?”

“She’s with Joyce and Hopper for the night,” you reply, though you know the pet name was for you and not a question about your daughter. Steve looks around the room as if taking the state of it in for the first time, but also as if he is slightly aimless without a baby to care for.

“That’s…wow. Is it too soon? It’ll be weird not putting her to bed,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

You know what he means. When Eddie had come to get her earlier this afternoon, you’d felt like your heart was being ripped from your body. But looking at your husband right now - feeling the chasm between you close as his eyes rake down your body - you know it was the right thing to do.

"We needed a night to be grown ups. Don't you think, Steve?" you ask, pushing off from the doorway. Your silk robe slips open, revealing a gauzy babydoll night dress that hits right at your upper thigh. You swear Steve turns a shade of red you've never seen in a matter of seconds. You can hear an audible swallow as you move into Steve's space, tugging at his Family Video vest till it falls off his shoulders and onto the floor. "You want that, too, don't you?"

You don't give him a second to respond. Instead you crawl your fingers up under his shirt, grasping at his sides to pull him to you as you big to kiss the side of his neck. The shuddering inhale is a good indication of the effect you're having on him, followed immediately by the way his arms encircle your body.

This is what you've wanted. What you've needed. What you've craved every night as you laid beside your doting, sweet, silly husband, desperate for a touch he hadn't necessarily deprived you of, but a touch which you needed more more more.

"Honey." He says it like a prayer. Like a question to be answered. You pull back from his skin long enough to look up and find his face a storm of emotion. Love and lust and worry swirl together, but before you can move to comfort or question him, his lips are on yours. Kissing you for all he's worth. For all you're worth. For all the two of you are worth combined.

The kissing never stopped. That wasn't something he'd been holding back from you these past few months. But clearly he'd been holding back in intensity, because there's something all-consuming about the way Steve is kissing you now. It has you gasping for air in the mere seconds of reprieve he gives you before he's back to devouring your mouth, his hands roaming all over the body he'd spent so long treating with kid gloves.

You're the one who begins walking backwards, leading him into the bedroom without pulling away from the kiss. It's easy to forget about the other plans you'd made for the evening. The bottle of wine on the counter, the meal on the table. You'd assumed you might have to wine and dine Steve. Get him a little loose and convince him to ravish you. You hadn't expected him to crumble like this or to become as nonverbal as he has since he walked in the door. Your usually talkative man has dissolved into nothing but pants and grunts as he tries his best to get his lips and hands on every part of you he can.

When the backs of your knees hit the bed and you pull him down on top of you, however, he does finally seem to come to his senses.

"We...oh fuck. We don't have to do anything, honey," Steve mutters, albeit into your lips.

"Wanna do everything, Stevie," you say in response, grabbing his hands and placing them back on your swollen breasts. Steve groans into your jaw this time but is more successful in his attempt to pull away.

"Sweetheart, we should slow down."

"No, we shouldn't," you say, a bit more indignant this time. Realizing that Steve is no longer putting any of his body weight on you, you panic and do the first thing that comes to mind - you yank him down and then twist so that his back is against the mattress so you can clamber on top of him.

"Honey, what are you - ?"

"Steve. I need you to fuck me. And if you’re worried you’re gonna hurt me, just forget about it because I’ve been healed for months at this point and you know it.”

You know your eyes must be shining with unshed tears at this point so you do your best to blink them away, hoping they aren’t visible to Steve in the low light. But of course he notices. It’s Steve.

He immediately sits up so he can be face to face as you straddle him, his large hands coming to cup your face like you’re so delicate you’ll break.

“I just…the books said…you were in so much pain after the birth…”

Steve looks way more lost than you’ve ever seen him, his hair tousled from your hands and his eyes darting everywhere in discomfort before resting back on yours. You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t so you squeeze his biceps.

“Steve. You have to tell me these things that you’re worried about.”

“I know…” he tries to dismiss you, looking away. It makes you grab his chin.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” you finally say plainly. Steve’s eyes stop looking for anywhere else to rest, instead flying to your face and blowing wide. He opens his mouth but you keep going. “I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore. That you didn’t see me in that way…”

“Honey, stop,” Steve says, speaking forcefully for the first time all night. For the first time in months. “That’s crazy. You know that? You know you’re talking crazy, right? Like certifiably insane.”

“Steve…”

“How could you say that? Are you out of your mind?” His voice raises a bit as he gets more riled up. It makes you bite your lip.

“Don’t…don’t belittle…” you can feel the flood of emotion starting to surge to the surface, the dam much quicker to break these days since you gave birth. Steve grips you tighter, hand on the back of your neck to force you to look at him.

“I’m not belittling your fears. You are belittling my love for you if you think for one second that I’m not attracted to you anymore. That I don’t fall in love with you again every single time I lay eyes on you. That I don’t want you with every dumb molecule in my being. And I know I was shitty in science class but I know thats a lot of fucking molecules. You’re belittling my feelings if you don’t think I want to keep my hands on you every waking minute and that it kills me that that’s not possible. That I don’t get out of bed really early each morning and jerk off in the shower just because I had you in my arms all night.”

A wet chuckle comes out of you unbidden. The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up but his brow remains furrowed.

“You have to tell me when you’re worried about things, honey,” he says quietly as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Isn’t that literally what I just said to you?” you scoff incredulously. Steve leans back and finally gives you a lopsided smile.

“Well not exactly. I’m sure I changed the words a little bit.”

“Steve Harrington, that is word for word—,”

You’re cut off when Steve closes the gap between you with a kiss. There’s not once ounce of protest left in you. You are starved for his affection. Greedy to consume and be consumed. You kiss him back with everything you have. It is heated and wet and hard and everything that you have been needing. You push and he gives. Allowing you to pressure him down so his back is once again against the bed.

You’re grinding against him now and it’s so good. A triumphant zing runs down your spine at the feeling of how thick and hard he is for you, reciprocating all of your feelings and reinforcing all of his words.

Steve Harrington wants you.

The father of your child and the love of your life.

Your Steve.

When Steve’s lips migrate down over the slope of your jaw to suck at your pulse, you moan loudly. The feeling of suction travels all the way through your body to the space between your legs and before you can do anything to counter it, you’re rocking back and forth against Steve in search of any friction possible.

“Steve. Please,” you practically sob out. He puts his hands on either side of your face but before he can say anything, you continue whimpering. “Please, Steve. Just give me something, anything—,”

“Shh, honey,” Steve says, kissing your heated face. “You don’t have to beg. I’m so sorry to have made you think you ever have to beg. For anything.”

The next series of events plays out in slow motion. Both because it’s the culmination of all of your hopes and wishes for the last few months and because Steve moves incrementally. Gently.

“We’re gonna take this slow, honey,” Steve says quietly as he rolls so that you’re the one on your back, your head propped up on pillows. He grabs one additional pillow and lifts your hips up so that they are elevated by the cushion.

“We don’t—,” you try to interrupt but Steve hushes you again, not unkindly.

“Baby, I’ll bend you over and fuck you so hard the neighbors call 911 again soon,” he chuckles and you cringe at the memory of one of the best nights of sex of your life. Steve takes a shuddering breath, looking down at you spread out for him. “But tonight…we’re gonna do this slow. For both of us.”

Big hands slide the hem of your babydoll nightgown up, revealing your naked pussy which immediately receives attention. Steve presses two fingers to your clit and begins to go in tried and true circular motions.

“I’m just saying. We could go faster…oh.” You’re cut off when one of Steve’s fingers slides all the way into you, causing your eyes to roll back. Steve chuckles and leans forward to kiss your exposed throat.

“Baby, I need to go slow. Don’t you get it?” he mutters into your skin. He moves his finger in and out of you slowly. “You’re acting like you’re the only one who hasn’t been fucked in months.”

The perspective has you preening, but before you can dig into that further, Steve presses the weight of his body on you and you’re a goner.

It’s all weight and skin and sweat and the skim of flesh on flesh and moans and warm breath.

You begin to forget where Steve ends and you begin. You both are one raw nerve ending, spurred on by gasps and rubs and moans. As someone whose patience had seemingly run out, you’re surprised to realize how easy it is to lose track of time with your lover so lost in you, and you in him. You don’t know how long it is that you revel in touch and pressure and heat before you feel him prodding at your entrance. Swollen and hot and and hard and needy and yours.

“Ready, baby?” Steve asks. He sounds far away, but you make sure to muster up eye contact so you can assure him as much as possible.

“Ready, Steve.”

He pushes in slow, and you’re pleased to confirm that you were right. You are ready for him. For this. There’s no discomfort. Just the inevitable sting of his size invading you in every way.

“Oh fuck,” you say quietly. Steve pulls out and then drives back in, more firm this time. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Oh fuck, fuck.”

“Get it all out, baby,” Steve says with a roguish grin. “Say whatever you need to tonight. Don’t want to be all foul mouthed with our daughter around.”

You know he’s joking but you roll your eyes.

“Well Eddie Munson called me a slut in front of our daughter the other day, so—,”

“He WHAT?!” Steve stops immediately, eyes wide. You laugh and grab at his ass, trying to force him to start moving again.

“It’s nothing. Just a joke. Come on, keep going!”

“You saying he called you a slut was a joke or him calling you a slut was the the joke?” Steve asks warily, but he does slowly begin thrusting back into you.

“The second one. I mean the first. I mean both - ah!” you gasp at the feeling of Steve nudging against a delicious spot inside you. Your nails dig deep into his arm. “Oh god.”

“Am I going to have to limit Eddie’s family privileges?” Steve jokes, knowing fully well that Eddie is yours just as much as Robin is his. You’re squinting up at him, brow furrowed. It’s adorable.

“Can you stop talking about Eddie Munson while you’re making me feel like this?” you ask.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought him up.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead you surrender yourself to the pleasure melting through your bloodstream. Steve can see it on your face. It makes his ego swell in that way it always used to. A boyish grin splits his face and his hips pick up the pace.

“Making you feel like this, huh?” He quotes you. “Feels good?”

“Yeah. So good.”

“This what you wanted? Just wanted me to fuck you like old times?”

“If it was - oh god - like old times we’d both be drunk and fooling around in the bathroom at the - fuck - Hideout,” you try to say, though you’re interrupted by your own moans.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, leaning down and sucking on your throat again. There will definitely be marks, but you don’t have it in you to care or reprimand him. “I’m drunk on you right now.”

“Steve…,” you whisper. The name cracks in your throat when he snakes his hand down to play with your clit.

“Sounds like you’re drunk, too, baby - oh.”

The tone of his “oh” is different from his earlier teasing and you look down. Two wet spots have formed in the silk nightgown over your breasts.

“Shit. Shit,” you whine.

“Is that…”

“I’m lactating. I’m lactating during sex, Steve.” You have your hands slapped over your eyes to hide you away from the mortification of the moment.

“It’s ok. Hey. Hey! It’s okay.” Steve is chuckling, but his hands do their best to peel yours away from your eyes. Your crumpled face makes his heart hurt so he kisses your cheeks. “Baby, it’s okay. You were feeling good, right?”

“Yeah…but…”

“There’s no but. That’s all that matters,” Steve says definitively before dropping a more insistent kiss on your lips. His tongue delves into your mouth, his fingers winding in your hair. He’s trying to distract you. And it’s working, because soon your hips are rolling, trying to get him to start thrusting back into you again.

Steve finally pulls back, his hand gentle on your jaw.

“Do they hurt?” he asks quietly, glancing down at your breasts and back up.

“They’re a bit achey, yeah,” you admit. He leans down and presses a kiss to the valley between them. Your breath catches at the feeling. Steve hand comes up to cup one gingerly and you bite your lip. “Maybe don’t touch my nipples too much. Sensitive.”

“Of course, baby,” Steve agrees. He sits up higher, propping himself up with a hand by your head so that he’s leaning over you but has the leverage to pick up his thrusts again. Before long the feeling of him bottoming out inside you has you releasing a steady stream of moans. “Seems like you’re sensitive all over, huh?”

“Mmmmyeah,” you confirm, eyes shut tight against the pleasure.

Steve can feel your pussy start to clamp down on him. It’s his favorite feeling in the world - one his own fist could never hope to replicate. The apparent nearness of your orgasm spurs him on more than any aphrodisiac and he begins panting openly, his hips picking up speed.

“You’re close, I know you are, honey.”

You just nod furiously, practically beyond words as you grip his biceps for all you’re worth. Steve lets out a breathless chuckle.

“I know, me too, honey. You gotta cum for me, okay?”

“Steve…” you gasp out, peering up at him through lust hazed eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t…don’t make me go this long again,” you say weakly. “Please.”

Steve’s heart absolutely splinters at the way you say it. He drops himself even lower against you, his thrusts taking on a even harder, more intentional quality.

“I won’t. I promise,” Steve says hoarsely right into your ear, his lips mouthing at the lobe as he does so. “I’ll fuck you right, baby. You’ll see. You’ll never have to ask again.”

You spasm in his arms shortly after Steve makes that promise to you. He’s not far behind, especially not with the way you cry out his name like is both a prayer and and answer to one. He spills into your still quaking walls with a guttural groan that you do your best to swallow, somehow not satiated by the sex alone. You need to consume Steve’s being.

~*~

What comes after shouldn’t be your favorite part, but somehow it is. It’s the part where Steve holds you in his arms, sweaty and still shaking a little. Kisses pepper your temples and his breath fans over your face. After a while, a comedically timed stomach growl reminds you both that neither of you have eaten, so you finally stumble out to the kitchen, naked and draped over one another, to eat a meal.

It’s the part later in the evening where you try to suck Steve’s cock while watching tv, but he won’t let you because he won’t let the mother of his child bruise her knees (he’ll change his tune in a few weeks but it’s cute for now). Instead he drags you back to bed for the night and makes you cum on his tongue before fucking you once more and ensuring you have the heaviest sleep you’ve had in months.

It’s the part the next morning where you wake up with still a few hours to go before Eddie brings your daughter back from Joyce and Hopper’s. Where you wake up to your husband wrapped around you, his morning wood tucked between your thighs. This time you don’t hesitate in initiating yourself. Taking what you both want. Steve’s moans score your morning beautifully, while his cum paints the canvas of your belly and your face wears a self satisfied grin.

Your favorite part is having quiet cups of coffee in the kitchen. Holding hands as you wait for the toast to pop up. Reading the morning paper and handing Steve the comics section without having to be asked. Reaching a hand out to fluff his hair fondly when he reads out the most ridiculous panels.

Your favorite part is when Eddie brings your daughter back and you get to watch the light in Steve’s eyes magnify as he picks her up in his arms. He coos at her and she smiles and you sweat you ascend to heaven.

Eddie lingers in the doorway after Steve hoists the diaper bag and brings his precious cargo into the living room.

“So are you all…satisfied?” Eddie asks uncomfortably. You punch him in the shoulder but you’re unable to hide the massive smile on your face.

“Yes. Yes I am, thank you,” you reply, completely genuine. Eddie grins back at you, squeezing your hand.

“I’m happy for you, slut.”

You’re about to reply when you both freeze, surprised by a loud voice coming from the living room.

“EDWARD MUNSON, IF YOU CALL MY WIFE A SLUT ONE MORE TIME!”

~*~

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I hope you enjoyed! Please comment and reblog to let me know, thanks for reading!

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington / reader #stranger things smut #dad!steve harrington

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buckysgrace · 2 months

Text

Red Roses and Chocolate Kisses

It's wrong to date your student's parent. Right? Is it really?

In which Steve Harrington makes you question everything.

CW: Includes oral sex and unprotected sex!! Also, this is probably too long, I'm sorry. Dad!Steve Harrington x teacher!reader <3

Your class was usually loud, full of pattering feet and outrageous giggles from your tiny students. Today was twice as loud, your class refusing to do even the simplest tasks as the day loomed closer and closer to your class Valentine’s party.

“Now, boys and girls,” You spoke up over all the loud voices, desperately trying to get their attention back to you, “What do we tell all of the parents when they arrive?” You asked them as you adjusted your headband with springy hearts back over your head. You were sure by now your makeup was smeared and your hair frizzy and unruly from the long hours that had passed.

Paisley’s hand was the first in the air, her expression full of excitement as she held it as high as it would go. You raised your eyebrow, surprised at her sudden outburst. She was new in your class, her family had only moved here within the past month. She was shy, still struggling to make friends with the other students in the class. Most of the time at recess she stood behind you, your little shadow as she tried to show you different tumbling tricks she could do.

“Paisley?” You asked her then quickly shushed your two ornery boys so the whole class could hear her speak. She dropped her hand, her cheeks turned rosy as she leaned back in her chair and tugged a bashful smile to her lips.

“We tell them thank you,” She said shyly, “My daddy’s coming.” She said a second later, giggling as the rest of the class began to shout out which parent would be joining them. You grinned, trying to calm them back down as the minutes to their parents' arrival grew closer.

“Okay, okay everyone stay in their seats,” You responded as you ushered them back into their assigned area, “Did everyone get their boxes out?” You asked as you walked around, noticing the vast array of different boxes that were on desks. You could usually tell which students did them on their own and which had their parents quickly throw something together.

“Miss?” Paisley looked up at you with huge brown eyes and thick eyelashes, “My daddy is bringing mine.” She brought one of her tiny fingers against your pink skirt, tracing one of the red hearts. You’d met her mother, but this had been the first time you’d heard of her father.

“That’s fine,” You reassured her as you rubbed the back of her shoulders, “Do you have your valentines cards and candy?” She nodded her head, “Good. We can wait for your daddy before we start.” You responded as she skipped back to her seat, a fresh pep in her step.

You greeted parents as they came, helping them unload the various snacks that they brought onto your large reading table. You could no longer hear your radio as parents joined their students, starting up a conversation as you tried to get everyone comfortable.

You were growing worried that Paisley’s father wasn’t going to show and wondered if you needed to sneak out to make a quick call to her mother. Then again, her mother struggled to sign Paisley’s papers and sounded anything but interested in the one meeting you’d had with her.

“That’s him!” Paisley shouted, speaking louder than you’d ever heard her, “That’s my daddy!” She proclaimed loudly, almost sitting up in her chair as she pointed towards him.

Your eyes widened as you quickly rushed over, holding your hands out for support as he shuffled into the classroom with his hands full. He had stacks and stacks of cookies, cupcakes and chocolate covered fruit. Around one of his wrists he had multiple plastic bags with bottles of sodas and juice. Under his other arm he had a pink box underneath.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” You looked at him surprised, trying to help him balance the treats in his arms before they went everywhere, “Mr. Harrington, this is a lot of sugar.” You ended up taking the box from him, fearing that he might end up crushing it. You didn’t like thinking about Paisley’s mortified face if that happened.

“Steve, uh,” He paused as he handed you a package of cookies next, “My name is Steve. You can call me Steve.” He stammered out as you took the package from him. You froze for a moment, taking him in for the first time.

He was handsome. Really handsome. His skin was warm with moles decorating across his features. His lips were pretty pink, his teeth white and straight. He had a strong nose, dark eyebrows and dark hazel eyes. You stared at them for a moment, trying to decide if they were more brown or green.

“Okay,” You drew out slowly as you tugged your lips into an amused grin, “Well, Steve, I think you’re about to give a bunch of first graders a sugar high.” You told him honestly as you began to wiggle things around on your table so he could fit his snacks on there.

“They deserve it every once in a while,” He smiled as he looked at you, “Plus, my ex gets Paisley tonight. She can deal with it.” He had a tad bit of bitterness in his tone, but you ignored it. It wasn’t your place to pry.

You looked at him again, his hair was slightly disheveled as he let out a loud groan as he freed his hands. He had a mark around his wrist from how heavy the soda bottles had been in the bag. You suddenly felt nervous under his gaze.

“I see,” You said as you handed the decorated box back to him, “Well I think they’ll appreciate all of this.” You gestured towards him as an awkward laugh fell from your lips. You quickly shook your head, reminding yourself that he was your student's parent.

“It’s kind of last minute,” He rambled for a moment, “I had her this week and she didn’t tell me there was a party until last night. I bought a little of everything, you know, what was left.” He breathed out as he took a step back, his eyes knitting together as he took in the vast amount of sweets that he’d brought in.

“You’re fine,” You reassured him, sure that he had bought enough food to feed all of the first grade classrooms, “She’s been very excited.” You told him honestly, glad that she seemed to be coming out of her shell. His face lit up at your words.

“Good,” He grinned as he balanced the box in his hands, “Is she adjusting okay?” He looked a little worried as he turned towards you once again, like he was expecting you to say otherwise. You’d briefly heard that Paisley hadn’t done well in her last school. She struggled to focus on her work at times, but you found that if you gave her plenty of breaks and avoided taking away recess time that she got her work done.

“She’s timid,” You told him gently, “She’ll get adjusted soon enough though.” You told him honestly, sure that she would make friends soon enough. The other kids were willing, she just didn’t seem interested in any of them yet.

“I hope so,” He paused as he glanced towards you, “She talks about you a lot. She says you’re her favorite teacher.” He pressed his fingers against the corners of the box, almost looking like he was hesitant to say that. You felt your body warm, grateful for the little compliments. It always made you feel like you were doing your job well.

“Daddy,” Paisley appeared, all smiles as she tugged on his free hand, “Come on.” She whined as she dragged him towards her seat. Steve stumbled backwards, looking like he had more to say as he shot you an apologetic smile. You suddenly felt like giggling, like you were a highschooler again.

You made your rounds through the classroom, taking turns speaking to parents and making sure that your students passed out an equal amount of valentines to their peers. You passed out your own valentines to each of them that contained their own special letter along with a sour sucker.

“Did you see my box?” Paisley asked you in excitement as you approached, smiling proudly as she gestured towards it. The base of it was pink, with silver Christmas bows on each corner of the box. You could tell where they’d taken a coloring book and printed out different animals, then colored those before gluing it onto the box.

“It looks very nice,” You told her, smiling at the way she crawled over Steve’s lap, “I bet you worked so hard on it.” You told her honestly as you slipped your valentine into her box. She squealed, wearing a proud expression before she dug her face into Steve’s chest.

“She means thank you,” He told you softly, smiling as he rubbed a large hand along her back, “She really likes Lisa Frank at the moment.” He explained as he dipped her back down, earning a giggle from her before he began to pepper her face in kisses. You felt your heart flutter, sure that something in you had broken as you nodded your head in agreement and moved on.

You thought he looked a little silly sitting in your classroom, sticking out like a sore thumb. His legs were far too long for the tiny desk he was sitting at, his attitude too peppy for the other mother’s that were sitting in your class with their noses raised high. You didn’t miss how they kept looking at him. You were sure they’d be talking about him for the next few weeks.

“What do you mean you don’t want it?” Steve teased Paisley, her giggles filling the room as you walked back over, “Celery is so good for you. It gives you hair on your chest, just like daddy.” He said dramatically, pulling at the top of his shirt just enough to show his dark hair on his chest.

“Daddy no!” She giggled, her face flushed as she shook her head, “I don’t want that.” She shook her head quickly, her dark hair bouncing about as she wrinkled her nose up in disgust. You felt a smile pull onto your lips, noticing the frosting that remained at the corner of her lips.

“You don’t?” He grinned as he kissed the side of her head, “Why not?” He noticed you then, grinning as he continued to rock her back and forth. You sent him a shy wave, hoping that he didn’t think you were odd. He was about the only person your age that was friendly enough to approach.

“Teacher!” Paisley shouted to gain your attention, “Tell my daddy he’s silly.” She demanded, wrinkling her features up cutely as she balanced herself on Steve’s knee. He pulled her close again.

“Hey, what’s your teacher's name?” He teased her as he tickled at her sides, “You remember.” He reminded her, giving her a slight nudge as she turned up to you shyly. She nodded her head, repeating your name before she buried her face in his chest again.

“She’s very sweet,” You told him honestly, smiling at how easily she fit herself into his arms, “Are you having fun?” You bent to her level, hoping to make her more comfortable.

“Yeah,” She answered as she wiggled her face away from Steve’s chest, “I like sugar.” She said honestly, reaching for her plate again to pick up a cupcake, ignoring the celery stick that Steve was still trying to put in her hand.

“Oh, I bet you do,” You grinned as you answered her, “Sugar is very yummy.” You nodded your head in agreement, meeting Steve’s eye as you slowly rose. You gulped, your throat feeling dry suddenly. You were sure, without a doubt, that he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

You busied yourself at your desk after, fanning through the various cards and pieces of candy that you’d received as you tried to distract yourself from glancing over at Steve. You weren’t sure why he had such an effect on you, why you felt such a dire need to be noticed by him.

You were fairly sure that dating him would be against the rules and then reminded yourself that it didn’t matter. He didn’t seem interested in you anyways. There was nothing to worry about, but that didn’t stop your imagination from running.

Steve was currently making the other kids giggle and clap, watching in amazement as he popped Hershey’s kisses into his mouth from high distances. You were distracted yourself, having a hard time tearing your gaze away from how charismatic he was.

It took you a moment to collect yourself, to wipe the dreamy expression from your features and scold yourself for practically drooling over him. You didn’t need to add to any of the gossip that the other mother’s may come up with if they saw you.

The party slowly died down as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Many parents ushered their kids out right away, ignoring how you were clearly trying to offer them some of the leftover snacks. You did not want to take them home with you as you feared you may spend the rest of the night snacking on them on your own.

“Do you need help?”

“Oh,” You jolted in surprise, sure that everyone had left, “Where did Paisley go?” You asked Steve breathlessly, twisting slowly in the chair that you were standing on to pull free the pink streamers. You figured it was better to take it all down now, then to come back next week and do it before your students arrived.

“Her mom met us at the front,” He smiled as he placed his hands in his pockets, “I feel bad for bringing all of this stuff and it didn’t get used.” He replied as he gestured towards some of the full trays of cookies and cupcakes that were left. You began to step down, your chair wobbling from your motions.

He reached out quickly, making you jolt as he took a hold of your free hand. His left palm reached for your waist, holding onto you gently as he lowered your feet to the floor. Your insides flushed, your legs trembling as you turned to look at him. From this proximity you could see the green in his eyes, the freckles along his nose.

“I’m sure we can find something for it,” You reasoned softly, feeling shy at the feeling of his palm against your own, “I’m sure it won’t go to waste.” You told him quickly as you removed his hand, ignoring the sparks that traveled up your arm.

You turned away, clenching your fingertips together as you desperately tried to rid of the way you could feel your heartbeat in the tips of your fingers. You shook your head, reminding yourself that you had just met this man. You walked to your board, beginning to remove the strings that were decorated there as well.

“So,” He drew out slowly as he helped you remove the stringers from the top of the board, “What are you doing after this?” He asked you curiously, his features inquisitive as he held the decorations between his long fingers. You noted that his fingers still had remnants of bright markers and glitter glue stuck to his wrist from his decorating with Paisley.

“I have grand plans.” You said teasingly, trying to hide your grin as you began to erase your board. Usually your students would fight over who got to do it, but they had forgotten with all of the festivities.

“You do?” He looked towards you quickly, almost dropping the decorations that he had gathered. You fought to keep your laughter at bay, a little amused at how affected he seemed to be.

“Oh yeah,” You nodded your head as you turned to look at him, “Me, my cat and a frozen pizza. All for myself.” You drew out playfully, finally letting your lips crack into a grin at the way his expression relaxed. He chuckled softly as he moved his hand to the back of his neck and began to gently press down on his messy hair.

“Do you like Pappo’s?” He asked suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows together in a wince as he turned towards you. He quickly looked away, his brown eyes finding interest in the glitter on the floor like he was afraid of what you were going to say.

“I’ve heard it’s good,” You told him as you placed the leftover cookies into a plastic bag, “But I’ve never had it before.” You admitted as you thought about the new pizza place that was in town. You had made a few plans with your friends, only for them to not work out in the end.

“Do you want to try it?” He asked you as he rolled his tongue around inside of his mouth, “With me?” He asked again, looking like he was trying to be suave as he awkwardly rested his palm on your table. You trailed your eyes up the length of his arm, meeting his eyes as you wondered how he used to ask girls out. You had a feeling it wasn’t this way.

“A date?” You spit out quickly, your eyes widening at your own words, “Like a friendly date?” You quickly corrected yourself, hoping you didn’t seem desperate. You held a paper heart up to your face, lightly fanning yourself as the warmth settled in.

“Yeah,” He said quickly as he leaned his arm against one of your bookshelves, “Unless your cat will be waiting for you.” He teased softly, looking just as interested in what you had to do later. You felt a flutter in your heart, suddenly feeling like this dreaded holiday wasn’t that bad.

“He probably will,” You giggled softly as you nodded your head, “Sure. Do you want to leave now or?” You asked him curiously. It was still fairly early in the afternoon, but you couldn’t be sure if it would happen if you ended up waiting. You’d rather go now, then wait by the phone and face rejection later. You were sure that he had plenty of other options waiting for him.

“Now is good,” He told you quickly, “Do you need a ride?” He looked at you curiously, watching the way you replaced your decoration in a box and stood on your tippy toes to push it back onto the top shelf with the rest of your decorations. Steve moved next to you, placing his fingertips next to yours as he pushed the box back with ease.

“I walked,” You told him honestly as you steadied yourself on your feet again, “I don’t live far.” You told him for some odd reason. You stared at him, feeling a warmth traveling between the two of you. You could feel something tugging you in his direction, something invisible binding the two of you.

“Walked?” He looked at you in disbelief, “It’s freezing out.” He noted. You nodded your head, suddenly interested in the way his lips moved. You wondered how they were so pink, how they looked so smooth. You wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked.

“It was a little chilly,” You agreed as you twisted the lace along one of the paper hearts your students had gifted you, “But it gives me time to think.” You shrugged your shoulders as you looked back down at the ground, mentally punching yourself for being so easily affected by him. He was just being nice and he was off limits.

“I figured it’d take someone with a big imagination to teach a bunch of wild kids.” He chuckled as he shrugged his own jacket on. You grabbed your coat, then slid on your hat and gloves. It was too cold to not bundle up.

“They’re not always wild,” You said playfully, “But parties always seem to make them a little more hyper.” You told him seriously as you began to grab your gifts and some of the leftover snacks. You’d have a whole weekend to try and not eat them yourself.

“I really wouldn’t make her more hyper for her mom to deal with,” He said suddenly as he helped you carry the leftover desserts outside, “I hope you know that.” He replied, looking like he was genuinely worried about what you thought. In all honesty, you’d heard moms say much worse about their husbands. It didn’t phase you one bit.

“I figured,” You nodded your head in agreement, thinking that he was too kind to do something like that, “Do you get her every other week?” You asked him curiously, hoping he wouldn’t think you were prying. He took the desserts from your hands as he slid them into the trunk. You held onto your own gift bag, not wanting to risk losing the work from your students.

“Yeah,” He nodded his head as he opened the door for you, “I’d like her more, but that’s the best agreement we could come to.” He explained briefly. You paused as he shut the door for you, then stayed silent until he reappeared into the driver’s seat.

“I’m sorry.” You told him honestly, knowing that divorces could be hard. Very hard.

“It sucks,” He agreed, “But things are better than what they used to be. Are you seeing anyone?” He asked as he started his car, giving it a minute to warm up before he took off. You rubbed your clothed palms together as you waited for the air to turn warm.

“Not currently,” You replied as you played with the seatbelt over your waist, “I guess I’m still stuck on waiting for the right person.” You told him honestly, still wondering if you kept your nose buried deep into too many romance books.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” He replied, “Well, I hope not. I’m doing the same thing, I guess.” He mumbled for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure that no one was coming as he slowly reversed out of his parking spot.

“It’s very romantic.” You grinned as you turned towards him, thinking that he looked more handsome with wind blown hair and a red nose. You were sure that this was inappropriate, that your coworkers would have a hay day if they ever caught wind of what you were doing.

“It feels weird,” He admitted, “I’d been with my ex for the longest time, I’m not really sure if I know how to be with anyone else.” He replied for a moment, looking like he had desperately needed to get that off of his chest. You nodded your head, feeling like you could understand in a similar way. You weren’t sure if you would ever have anyone.

“I think you’ll learn to adjust to the change,” You told him softly, “But I don’t have much experience in that area.” You told him truthfully, feeling like all of your relationships had ended in broken hearts and tears. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had a romantic Valentine’s date.

“Either do I,” He sighed as he pulled over, “I really hope you’re hungry after all of those sweets.” He grinned from ear to ear, his eyes tracing over your features as he gazed at your reaction. You felt a smile tugging onto your lips, swooning a little at the attention that he was giving you.

“I think there’s always room for pizza,” You teased him, “Thank you.” You told him truthfully, feeling a little less lonely on this holiday as you slid out of the car.

Steve was a gentleman. He held doors open for you, pulled your seat out for you, constantly asked for your insight and just seemed genuinely glad to be near you. You thought that he must be a little lonely too as you were sure you couldn’t be that interesting.

“What do you like?” He asked you as he glanced at the menu again. He held it a little too close to his face, squinting as he peered at the words. You slightly wondered if he needed glasses, or if it was just a habit he had fallen into.

“Pepperoni is fine with me,” You answered, “Or just cheese. Whatever you feel like sharing.” You told him truthfully, fully planning on eating whatever he got. You could feel a twitch in your fingertips as the warm feeling continued to spread through your chest, down to your legs and to the tips of your toes.

“Is Paisley your only child?” You continued to make small conversation with him once the food arrived. You had learned that he was funny, really funny. You liked how lighthearted he was, how he was slightly dorky but still had a certain charm to him.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded his head, “I want more one day.” He added as he peeled a piece of pepperoni off of half of the pizza and popped it into his mouth. You watched as he poked his tongue out, then licked away the grease that had collected in the corner of his mouth.

“Kids are fun,” You told him in agreement, “How many do you want?” You asked out of curiosity as you enjoyed the bubbles from your Coke.

“Like six,” He grinned in amusement as he took in your surprised expression, “I’m an only child, I want something else for Paisley. I know how lonely it can get.” He explained with a shrug of his shoulders. You nodded your head in agreement, thinking that his reasoning was strong.

He questioned you about your life, the questions small and vague but you were far more eager to tell him than you had been with your previous dates. He seemed to be actually interested, like he wanted more than just to bring you home to his bed.

“What is it?” You asked as you reached for your purse, “We can split it.” You told him seriously as he looked over the bill. He shrugged his shoulders, looking like it was no big deal.

“It’s fine,” He brushed you off, “I got it.” He told you truthfully as he began to scribble down his signature on the little receipt.

“No really,” You said, feeling a little guilty. You didn’t know if this counted as bribery, “I don’t mind.” You responded quickly, feeling your heart hammering roughly at the way his eyes met yours.

“We didn’t get you a Valentine’s card,” He said quickly, “This way it’s fair.” His grin was a little lopsided, a little dorky although his eyes seemed to be apologetic.

“Dinner in exchange for a card?” You asked him, shaking your head at the goofy grin that formed on his lips, “Alright then.” You rested your chin on fingertips, feeling a little enamored by the way he moved.

“Easy trade,” He insisted as he pulled free the cash, “I can give you a lift back home.” He offered you, raising an eyebrow as if you would protest. This place was definitely too far to walk back to your apartment.

“I’d appreciate that,” You told him softly, “Are you sure I’m not keeping you from something?” You asked him seriously, hoping that you wouldn’t be bothering him.

“No,” He said as he shook his head, “I really enjoyed this. It’s better than being home alone.” He told you, speaking what had been on your mind earlier.

“I can agree with that,” You smiled, “Although my cat is probably wondering where I’m at right now.” You said with a soft laugh, hoping that your cat wouldn’t be too offended.

“Do you want to come in?” You asked him, feeling your heart flutter, “Just for a drink?” You tried to brush it off as no big deal, although you really didn’t want to lose his company so soon. It was silly to become so attached to someone that you had only just met.

“My throat is dry,” He grinned as he looked at you, “I’d love that.” He replied as he dragged himself out of the car. He walked quickly, almost slipping in the leftover slush from the previous snow just so he could open your door first. You grinned as he helped you out, then offered you his hand as you walked through the parking lot.

“Um,” You stumbled a little bit as you led him up the stairs to your apartment, “I wanted the top floor. I liked the balcony, I like sitting out there in the early mornings.” You explained to him, although you hadn’t been able to do that recently.

“Yeah?” He looked at you with interest, watching as you slid the key inside of the lock and turned it for him, “It’s not a bad place.” He told you quickly, interest flooding his features as he inspected your various pictures and paintings.

“Tiny,” You responded as you glanced over your shoulder to peer at him, “But it’s fine for just me. It doesn’t make me feel as lonely.” You admitted, feeling a little less embarrassed to admit how lonely you could be since he’d spoken up about it.

“How could you be lonely with this guy?” Steve grinned as he ran his hands through your cat's fur, “What’s his name?” He watched as your cat rubbed his face up against his palm, soaking in the cuddles from someone new.

“Spooky,” You responded, watching in enjoyment, “He’s a big softie.” You told him honestly, knowing that Spooky enjoyed sleeping and eating more than anything else.

You made a glass of hot chocolate for the both of you, which then turned into two as the conversation kept going. You didn’t want it to stop, didn’t want to pretend that you weren’t allowed to be with him. Even if it was wrong, you figured a few more minutes wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

At some point you found yourself scooted closer to him, his arm resting across the back of your sofa as his fingertips brushed against your exposed shoulder. Your body nearly felt too hot, your heart beating too fast as his voice moved through your ears like the sweetest symphony.

Your conversation had suddenly trailed off, drifting into silence as you both faced one another. You traced your eyes over his features again letting out a dreamy sigh at the sudden rush you felt, as if you were on a rollercoaster.

He moved closer, his nose pressing against yours as your lips parted in anticipation. His lips did the same before he closed them again, then tilted his head down further so you could smell the rich chocolate coming off of his tongue.

You felt your eyes close as you clenched one fist together tightly, trying to wake yourself up as you felt his lips drag against yours in hesitance. You tilted your head up, repeating his motions as his large hand fell to the back of your neck.

Your heart was hammering wildly against your bones, creating a new rhythm inside of your body as Steve teasingly pressed his lips against yours again. It was soft, sweet. Just enough to wake you up from your dream.

“Steve,” You gasped, your lips still lightly brushing against his own. His hot breath fanned your face, “We can’t do this.” You told him as you pressed your hands against his chest, admiring the way his heart was thumping against your palm.

“Why?” He asked hotly, his eyes warm and dark as he looked at you. He was still close, close enough that you could make out the slight green in his eyes.

“I’m Paisley’s teacher,” You reminded him, “This could put her in a bad spot.” You told him softly, knowing that a hookup with your student's parents was a very bad thing.

“Or a good one.” He chuckled softly, slowly rubbing his thumb against your neck. You felt your mind spinning, like you were falling into a haze as his lips grazed against the corner of your mouth. He kissed there slowly, then licked in a tantalizing manner.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” You told him quickly as you placed your hand against his, grabbing it so you could grip yourself back into place. You wanted this, you wanted him. Desperately.

“Who said that I did?” He chuckled as he rubbed his fingertips along the curve of your hips, “It’s just kissing.” He mumbled, nearly making you swoon from how raspy his voice was.

“I really want to,” You told him truthfully, hating that you had to reject him, “But I can’t. Not while she’s in my class.” You explained softly, feeling like you had no more air to breathe as he brought his hands against yours.

“I understand,” He replied, looking at you sincerely as he traced his thumb across the side of your hand, “I’m patient.” He grinned a second later before he settled back into his spot, going back to explaining what he thought about the TV show that was playing in the background.

A few days passed since you’d last seen Steve, which to some part, you were grateful for. You needed the strict reminder that he was off limits. You’d known of coworkers who’d gotten involved with parents before, only for it to end in heartache.

You did your best not to remind yourself that most of those parents had been in relationships, meanwhile Steve was single. In all technicality, there was no actual rule about you dating him. You could, but you knew it would make things awkward.

You’d have to get around the issue with Paisley, as you were sure she would accidentally slip up and announce to the class that you were dating her daddy. You didn’t want that to spread around to the school, to the parents. It would look bad on your part, you were sure of it.

Your parent teacher conferences seemed to be longer than usual. Most parents weren’t concerned and you guessed that they seemed to feel that this was more of a waste of time than anything. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth to try to get through to some of the parents.

Paisley’s appointment had been last and it took everything in you to keep from secretly wishing that Steve would show up. You figured it would be her mom again, which was fine. You shouldn’t be looking forward to seeing a parent.

But Steve had shown. He was a few minutes late, all apologetic as Paisley wrapped herself tightly into his arms again. Your heart still fluttered in the same manner, your body warming as he smiled oh so sweetly at you. You wondered if he could still feel your lips against his. You couldn’t stop thinking about his lips.

“What are you doing later?” He asked you curiously, once you had run through all of your main points about Paisley. He seemed to take her grades quite seriously, which you were happy with. He made you feel like you were doing something right.

“You’re my last meeting for the day,” You admitted as you slid the papers away, “After that, I’m not sure.” You shrugged your shoulders, sure that it would have something to do with feeding Spooky. That would perhaps be the highlight of your night.

“Come over.” He said finally, looking a little more confident than the last time you’d seen him. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting him to ask again. You thought about how badly you wanted to go, but you knew you weren’t supposed to.

“Steve,” You sighed softly, “You know-,”

“It’s not a date,” He reassured you, “Just for dinner. And a movie. Paisley and I rented The Little Mermaid again. She loves it.” He replied as he gestured towards her. Paisley took interest, moving over so she could grip onto his knee and pull herself up onto his lap.

“It’s my favorite!” She added gleefully, smiling as she balanced on her knees. He took a hold of her waist to lift her with ease, before he settled her better onto his lap. You watched, debating what was the right thing to do.

“It would be wrong.” You said at last, wrinkling your face up as you clearly didn’t want to bring that answer down upon him. You really, really wanted to go with him. It was pathetic just how badly you wanted to.

“Think of it as a home visit,” Steve grinned as he watched her, “And I have a bunch of discounted candy that’s just going to end up rotting away if someone doesn’t eat it.” He pointed out, wiggling his eyebrows a bit to earn a laugh from you. You tilted your head, watching him in amusement. He bore the same grin, looking just as excited at the prospect.

“I’ll eat it.” Paisley spoke up quickly as she snapped her head up towards her father. He looked down at her, his lips curling into a knowing grin.

“You’ll get cavities,” He teased her as he moved her hair from her forehead and gave her a soft kiss, “What would the tooth fairy say about that?” He asked her playfully, giving her another kiss on the side of the head before he turned towards you again. You could feel your heart hammering as an invisible string seemed to yank you closer and closer to him.

“I don’t know,” She giggled as she held onto him, “Please come.” She turned towards you next, shooting you the same large brown eyes that Steve held. You knew that if you were to say no that he would understand, that he wouldn’t pressure you into anything.

“Okay,” You smiled, “But just for a little bit.” You told them in a playful manner, doing your best to sound stern as you playfully pointed at the two of them.

Steve dropped you off at your apartment first, saying he had no issue with you checking up on Spooky before you went with them. Paisley was eager, almost pouty because she desperately wanted to see where you lived.

“Roses?” You looked at him, one eyebrow raised in accusation as you walked into his house. It was fairly large and you could see why he’d get so lonely when Paisley was gone. Still, it looked like it was lived in. He had many pictures of her, of them and of people you assumed must be his friends.

He framed some of her artwork too, which you were sure she really enjoyed. His living room was slightly messy, filled with discarded toys and stray crayons. His pillows were a little frumpy, his blankets scattered about in such a manner that it made you wonder if he had napped on the couch beforehand.

“They were on sale,” He grinned as he bit down on his bottom lip, “I couldn’t just let them go to waste.” He said simply as he pulled a rose free from the vase. He offered it to you, watching with interest as you pulled it up towards your nose and took a slow inhale.

“They were too pretty,” Paisley added as she moved to grip your hand, “I’ll show you my room!” She told you in excitement, bouncing up and down as she waited for your energy to match her own.

“Sure,” You smiled, letting her drag you up the stairs and down the hallway, “Oh my. I love it.” You said dramatically as you peered at the room. She squealed, giving herself a little hug before she bounded inside.

You carefully twisted the rose in your fingers as you looked around at the many princess posters, along with the very pink sheets and mass amount of toys that were neatly stacked up in the corner of her room. Her bed was made nicely, but not neat enough to make you think that Steve had done it.

“She really likes Disney princesses right now,” Steve explained, gaining your attention as you turned to see where he was leaning against the doorway, “I’m sure you’ve heard all about it.” He smiled in amusement, watching the way Paisley continued to run about.

“Not princesses, no,” You told him softly, “But I do know that she likes ponies.” You teased her, noticing the various Barbie dolls that were surrounded by horses. She grinned from ear to ear, her face brightening as she looked back towards Steve as if to confirm that he had heard you.

“Lots of ponies,” He chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he watched his daughter pull her collection down, “I can order something for dinner, what sounds good?” He asked you, but you really didn’t mind what you had.

You turned towards Paisley, waiting for her response as she gave you a knowing look. She giggled as she bounced on her feet in excitement.

“Pizza rolls, daddy!” She said at last, surprising the both of you. You didn’t mind pizza rolls at all, it had actually been some time before you had eaten any. That sounded good enough for you.

“Pizza rolls?” He looked at her incredulously, “You don’t want like, an actual pizza?” He asked as he pushed the hair off of her forehead again. She leaned against his touch before she smiled up towards him.

“No,” She said quickly, “I like those better.” She gave him an excited grin, giggling softly as she held onto the material of his pants. You felt your own eyes lingering against his hips as you took in how thick his thighs were. You quickly turned away.

“What about spaghetti?” He asked instead, swaying her back and forth as he presented the option. You watched in humor, impressed at how well he always interacted with her.

“Hm,” She paused dramatically as she held her hands on her hips, mirroring how Steve was standing at the moment, “I think that’s good.”

“Alright,” He paused before he headed out of the door, “But you’re eating all of your broccoli this time.” He gave her a firm, but playful look.

You played with Paisley for a while, enjoying the time with her although you wished you were speaking more to Steve. You reminded yourself that this is what you wanted. You wanted that distance.

You were sure Steve was the definition of your perfect guy. On top of being funny and sweet, he really knew how to cook a mean meal. Even if it was something as simple as spaghetti and meatballs.

“You’re messy,” He teased Paisley as he used a wet rag to wipe her face clean, “I think you need a bath when we get back.” He turned away from her, his lips pulled into a warm smile as he looked towards you.

It felt like the whole Earth had stopped, like time had slowed and it was just you and him. Your fingers felt like they were numb, petrified from the sudden jolt that erupted in your heart. It made your whole body shake, quiver as his eyes slowly drank in every tiny detail on your features.

You could no longer hide the way you felt, the way he made your pulse quicken and your nerves spark with electricity. It traveled down your arms, down your legs and to your toes. You could feel it in your chest and clear up to your head.

Steve turned away first, his cheeks slightly flushed as he turned his attention back down to his plate. He listened to how Paisley rambled for a moment, his lips still twisted into a smile as you came to your own decision.

After that, you couldn’t allow yourself to be distant from Steve. You spent the majority of your free time at his place, or he spent time at your place. Neither of you had made a move from the first night, but every second spent with him had you wondering when it would happen again. You were craving each little interaction, hoping that it may lead to something more.

“I’ve honestly never understood these movies,” He told you one night as you were both snuggled up into the corner of the couch. Your feet were crossed and linked as you shared the footrest, “What are they doing again?” He asked, turning towards you curiously as he knitted his features up in an adorable way.

You’d rented The Ewok Adventure, already knowing that he had never seen it before. You’d watched it a few times, but mainly got it because of how excited he’d been when he had told you that his favorite Star Wars movie had been the one with the teddy bears.

“The Ewoks,” You paused as you pointed to the screen, “The teddy bears, they’re trying to help those kids find their parents.” You explained, gesturing towards the kids as they came on the screen again. Steve nodded his head, his lips parted in understanding before he knitted his eyebrows tightly together.

“What happened to their parents?” He turned towards you again, his features still plastered into uncertainty. You watched the TV for another moment, deciding on the best way to explain it all over again.

“Steve,” You turned towards him in amusement, “Did you watch the first part of the movie?” You teased him as you gently pressed your fingertips against his sides. He nudged you back, pushing your fingers away before you could fully tickle him.

“Well, yes,” He said, looking a little flushed, “And no. I was a little distracted.” He admitted a second later, his gaze softening as he watched you softly. You could feel your heart fluttering deep inside of your chest as the butterflies inside of your stomach burst to life.

“With?” You asked him softly, fluttering your eyelashes at the way he moved his large palm over your thigh. The sparks inside of your skin grew, spreading through your veins as desire pooled between your legs. He gently spread his fingers across your pants, rolling them softly against your inner thigh. You felt your breath hitch as your clit began to throb.

“Just admiring how you’re pretty enough to be in a movie,” He told you, giving you a cheesy smile as you snorted, “What? It’s true.” He squeezed your flesh this time, almost making a soft moan leave your lips.

“You’re very sweet.” You told him truthfully this time, wishing you had the courage to tell him just how handsome he was. You saw him everywhere. In your dreams, your fantasies. You even pictured him in the books you’d read. It was pathetic really.

“When are you going to let me kiss you again?” He asked you suddenly, his voice soft and sultry as he continued to hold your gaze. You felt your heart stop for a moment before you remembered how to make it work again.

“This is the first time you’ve asked.” You reminded him, suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. You fought the urge to squirm, to push his large hand further between your thighs. You wanted him to touch you there, to feel his fingers spreading your folds apart as his tongue lapped against your clit.

“Are you going to reject me again?” He asked you playfully, his eyes sparkling with interest as they glanced down towards your lips. Your eyes moved in the same manner, staring at the way his lips curved and moved as he spoke.

“There’s only a few weeks left of school,” You mused softly, “I suppose there’s not an issue if we keep this, you know, a secret for right now.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping that you didn’t sound too desperate. You felt like you were being reeled in, that there was no real reason keeping the two of you apart.

“Paisley does have a loud mouth.” Steve grinned, chuckling softly like he was thinking the situation over. You grinned, but felt like you needed to defend her.

“Don’t be mean,” You giggled softly, “All kids her age are the same.” You told him truthfully, briefly thinking of the amount of tattle tale slips you’d had recently.

Steve watched you for a moment, almost making you shy away with the intensity that he held. You gulped, turning your attention away for just a moment before you met his unreadable gaze. He was almost intense, far more than what you had been expecting.

“I really want to kiss you.” Steve told you truthfully, his voice warm and thick like honey. You felt your heart begin to quicken at the thought. You wanted that. You wanted that very desperately.

“I won’t stop you,” You breathed out softly, “I want to kiss you too.” You admitted, feeling like there was no longer a barrier between you two. You slinked yourself forward, moving slowly as he scooted himself a little closer.

It was slow. Almost too slow. His nose brushed against yours, your mouth opening as you awaited for the feeling of your lips against his own. He parted his lips in the same manner, inhaling sharply before he gave you what you’d been waiting for.

His lips were warm, smooth and sweet all at the same time as you pressed your lips desperately against his. He slid his large hand against your neck, holding you still as he dragged his lips against your own. His tongue prodded at your bottom lip, licking away the sugar from the ice cream that you had shared earlier.

You gasped as you turned your body closer to him, sliding onto your knees as he raised in his seat as well. Your body felt like it was on fire, the flames spreading through the open mouth kisses that he dragged across your cheeks and chin.

You tilted your head, spreading your fingers through his hair as he began to pepper his lips against the crook of your neck. His kisses were soft and sensual, then deep and passionate as he dragged his tongue against your skin.

His mouth brought moans from your lips, leaving your eyes tilted as he gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to him. You began to rut your hips against his thigh, gasping at how your clit jolted from the feeling of his rough jeans.

He brought his lips up to yours again, moving his mouth against yours harshly as you savored the sensation of your saliva mixing with his. He flicked his tongue against your bottom lip, spreading warmth down through your tummy as he dug his fingers into your flesh.

“I want you,” He mumbled, his lips dragging against your own as he spoke, “I want you so badly.” He breathed out, his nose brushing against your skin as he peppered a kiss against the corners of your lips.

“Then take me,” You whispered out as you took a hold of his hands. You moved them onto your hips, then began to drag them up the curve of your body. His eyes were dark, his mouth parted as he followed your motions. A surge of confidence filled your body as you placed his palms over your boobs, gasping at the way he began to squeeze them, “I want you too.”

His mouth fell onto yours again, fiery and passionate as he blindly worked on stripping you out of your clothes. You closed your eyes in bliss, licking at his bottom lip as he roughly tugged your shirt off of your shoulders. He moved to your bra next, reaching behind your back to snap it off.

He licked at the crook of your neck, his teeth lightly grazing your skin before he began to decorate your skin in love bites. You raised your hips as you held onto his shoulders, sighing as you raised your hips and he pulled your pants down the curve of your legs.

He pulled back for a moment, his eyes filled with the same fire you felt as he slowly curved his palms against your knees. He squeezed softly, keeping his eyes trailed onto your body as he slowly moved his fingers closer and closer to the band of your panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled as he looked at you, causing your breath to hitch as he slowly fell to his knees in front of you. He linked his fingers through the band of your panties, tugging them down slowly as he drank in the image of you, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You didn’t have time to answer, unable to fully comprehend the warm feelings that had filled your chest. His touch was so soft, so sensual. You’d never felt more desirable than you did right now. It made your heart throb, your body twitch in anticipation as he brought his lips against your inner thighs.

He kissed at your flesh slowly, dragging his tongue against every dip and curve as he made the slow trail towards your wet cunt. He gripped the back of your thighs as he pushed your feet up onto the cushions, spreading your legs wide as he inhaled your sweet scent. His lips curled into a soft smile, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he pressed a gentle kiss against your clit.

Your whole body lurched, dragging back against the couch as sharp sparks spread through your body. You gaped, parting your lips in awe as you glanced down to the sight between your legs. Steve’s eyes were blown wide, staring at you intensely as he flicked his tongue through your wet folds.

Fire. Everything felt like it was on fire. You were burning from outside in, his tongue flicking through each crevice as he lapped at your folds. Your thighs squirmed at the sensation, your body shaking as he purposely avoided brushing his tongue against your clit.

Soft moans fell free from your lips as you brought your thumb to your mouth, biting down softly to keep the dirty words from pouring off of your tongue. Your cunt was aching, soaking in the pleasure of Steve’s mouth as you slowly began to rock your hips forward.

He gripped your hips, spreading your legs wider so he could get better access to your cunt. He groaned as he dragged his tongue through your fluttering hole, his strong nose brushing against your clit as he continued to devour the taste of you.

“Steve,” You whined, your fingers falling through his hair again as you gripped the back of his head. You tangled your hands through his thick locks, your hips jerking at the whine that left his lips. Vibrations traveled through your cunt as he continued to groan, sounding as if he was a starving man, “Oh my God.” You breathed out hoarsely, feeling as if you were praying to Steve instead.

He drew his tongue back towards your folds in a tantalizing manner. He moved slowly, steady as he curled his tongue against your clit. You squirmed again, your nipples hard from the cool air as your body continued to burn hotter and hotter. You were red hot, close to melting as he began to flick his tongue rapidly against your neglected clit.

You cried out, clinging to his hair as he slowly increased the movements of his tongue. He moved more rapidly, more intensely as you almost felt the need to wiggle away from him. It felt good, too good as your breathing became more labored.

You could feel your stomach muscles clenching tightly, your toes curling as the pleasure raced up your spine. It tickled every nerve, every muscle as you felt yourself coming undone underneath him. His large hands squeezed at your thighs, holding them tightly as he kept your legs far apart.

“Fuck!” You cried out, the profanities rolling off of your tongue before you could help yourself. He kept you still, squeezing his fingertips deep into your flesh as you rode out your orgasm. He licked away your slick just as eagerly, diving into you like he was having a fresh new taste, “Steve.” You whined again, feeling like you were unable to form full sentences from how blissful you felt at the moment.

He groaned as he pressed his lips against your folds again, flicking his tongue through your crevices one last time as he licked the last of your sweetness away. He looked up at you after, eyes flooded with lust and lips coated in your cum as you suddenly felt more needy than ever before.

You wiggled from his grasp with haste, setting your own urgency as you quickly pressed your lips to his. You licked away the taste of yourself, your stomach twisting in pleasure at the way he moaned against your lips.

You tugged his shirt over his head, pausing for just a second to admire his mole kissed skin. Your eyes drifted over his thick chest hair, watching as the trail went clear down to his jeans. You moved your hands over his shoulders, touching him gently to reassure yourself that he was real.

You fell onto your back, giggling as you fell onto the cushions while he moved back onto the couch. He roughly tugged his own jeans and briefs down, barely leaving you a chance to admire him as he positioned himself between your knees.

You quickly sat up on your elbows, determined to get a good look at him as he began to drag his fingertips against your inner thighs. You felt slightly numb, hiding back a moan as you took in how long and thick his cock was. It was pretty too. He was slightly curved and his tip was fat and pink. You knew it wouldn’t leave your mind for the next few weeks. Months. Years. You were smitten by him entirely.

“I wanted this for a long time,” You finally repeated back, almost shyly as he gave himself a slow jerk with his palm. You watched his features in interest, hoping he’d bear the same expression when he was inside of you, “Please, Steve.” You begged softly, knowing that it was far too late to turn around.

He pulled his lips into the softest grin as he leaned forward, his breath warm and heavy as he barely grazed your mouth. His eyes fluttered close, his features relaxed as he slid his fat tip inside of your wet pussy. You moaned, your mouth falling open wider as your lips dragged against his own.

The stretch of him was a bit much at first, almost painful. He moved slowly, giving you time to adjust as if he already knew. You held onto his biceps, squeezing softly as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. You looked down, slightly in awe at the way your bodies met.

It took only a minute for the pain to erase and for the pleasure to take over. You gasped as your nails dug into his skin, silently begging for more of him as your cunt stretched around him perfectly. You had never felt so filled before, so satisfied.

Your mind already felt blank, foggy with pleasure as Steve pressed his forehead down upon yours. He groaned in the same manner, making your insides twitch with want as his cool nose touched your cheek.

He slowly pulled his hips backwards, dragging his slick cock through your fluttering walls before he slammed deep inside of you again. You cried out, feeling the walls with your sounds of pleasure as his breath fanned over your face.

He moved one of your hands from his bicep, gripping your fingers with his instead as he built up a steady rhythm. He brought his lips upon yours slowly, kissing you sensually as he used his other hand to grip your hip and guide you along the length of his long cock.

He rutted into you, rocking his hips as he filled and stretched you in ways you hadn’t been able to imagine. Your kiss became messy, your lips unable to keep up with his as he stole the air from your lungs. The fire only spread, burning from your body onto his as he silenced his own groans with your lips.

The sounds he made were enough to drive you crazy, regardless of how deep his cock was inside of you. He grunted, groaned, whined and whimpered as he pressed his cock in and out of you. You gaped, licking at the corner of his mouth as a bright light of pleasure hit you harshly.

“God!” You cried out, clenching your fingers against his tightly as the tip of his cock nudged against your bundle of nerves, “Oh fuck, right there. Right there, Stevie.” You begged him, pleaded with him as you turned your attention back towards him.

His features were knitted tightly in pleasure, his pink lips parted in awe as he stared down at you. His expression was filled with lust, but also with something softer. Like he cared. You used your free hand to claw at his back, digging your fingertips into his sweaty skin as you urged him to continue moving in the same manner.

You were desperate to feel more of him as you savored the way his cock moved inside of your pussy. You gaped at the feeling of his cock curving deep inside of you, pressing against your most desired spots as your slick leaked down between your thighs. The sound of his skin hitting yours rolled off the walls like a symphony.

“Jesus,” He breathed out harshly, his voice raspy as he let out another guttural whine, “You feel good. Oh fuck.” He spit out just as roughly, his words just as rushed as what yours were. You could feel the connecting strings between the two of you as the waves grew deeper and deeper inside.

Your body shook as his cock continued to hit against your bundle of nerves. The pleasure washed over you roughly, as the sounds of flesh meeting mixed with the melodies that left your lips. You felt your cunt clamp down around him, squeezing him tightly as you came undone once again.

You continued to shake, your body still twisting in pleasure as his movements became more rapid. He pushed into you harder, his groans becoming louder as you felt his cock throbbing inside of your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, fuck,” He cursed again, his nose pressing against your cheek as he furrowed his eyebrows tightly, “Oh!” He grunted, mouth falling wide open as he pressed himself as close to you as he could go. You could feel his balls against your skin, warm and wet from the mixture of your arousal.

You breathed out harshly, still squeezing at his fingers as you felt his cum sinking in against your walls. You took it gladly, savoring the feeling of him as he panted against the side of your face. You turned, looking up at him in bliss.

He was pretty, far too handsome than what he should be. You admired the curve in his face, the lines in his expression as he slowly relaxed against you. You watched the way his lips curved into a smile, how he let out a shaky chuckle before he turned to face you.

He brought his thumb against your cheek, brushing it softly as he looked at you in the same manner. There was something, something forming deep inside of your chest that you didn’t understand. Perhaps your situation wasn’t right, but you couldn’t see how being with someone who made you feel so good could be wrong.

“Can we do that again?” You blurted out, feeling a little silly over your first choice of words after the intense moment you’d just had. He chuckled, looking at you in amusement as his messy hair fell onto his forehead.

“I’d like that,” He mumbled as he dragged his lips against yours again, kissing you sweetly for what still felt like the first time, “How about a date first?”

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington x reader smut #Dad!Steve Harrington

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supernovafics · 4 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟏)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 9.4k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), explicit language, some angst

author’s note: i had the idea for this lil two part mini series (and have been working on it on and off) for like a thousand years at this point and i'm so glad and excited that it's finally free from the jail cell that is my google docs lol. i really really wanted to finish this and have it up before this year was over, so part two is coming new year's eve<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

For the first time in the past two weeks, you were early. Granted it was only by two minutes, but you still counted that as a win.

You stepped out of your car and headed to where the other parents were on the sidewalk, waiting for school to be over and the kids to come out. You inwardly ran through the list of things that you still had to do today— on a Friday that should’ve been calm, but instead, it had been pretty hectic.

It felt like pure luck that you were able to step away from your coffee shop for thirty minutes to pick up Oliver from school. God bless Jude for being willing to take over the rush that was happening. She was your favorite employee, and you knew that she definitely deserved a raise for being able to effectively keep up with the insanity that the last two weeks brought.

That transition from summer into the beginning of the new school year was harder than you had anticipated, and you knew it was mainly because this time last year you weren’t running a business full-time when Oliver had been starting Kindergarten. Instead, the coffee shop was still just an idea, a dream, that felt like it solely lived in your head; even though it had actually been in its final stages, and with each passing day, you only got closer and closer to that October opening date. And when the long-awaited opening finally came, it actually didn’t alleviate an ounce of your stress; instead, it was only increased practically tenfold.

You’d never say it out loud for fear of being deemed as a bad mom, but it was so fucking hard juggling everything and trying to handle it all.

However, somehow, you were doing it and you were actually doing it pretty well. Although at most times it felt like you were so close to drowning, for the time being, your head was completely above water.

You kept running through your mental to-do list as you waited for the time to go from 2:29pm to 2:30pm, indicating the official end of the school day.

Call the vendors that supply the coffee beans and teas and see if they can change the next delivery date, finalize the work schedule for next week, prep the ingredients for the pastries that will be baked tomorrow—

Your eyes instinctively went to check the time on your watch right as the first handful of kids came barreling out of the front doors.

When you saw Olly, you waved until his eyes landed on you and he immediately smiled.

Suddenly, you couldn’t care less about the time and the rest of the shit that you needed to do throughout the day.

“I made a new friend!” Were the first words he said to you when he came over to where you stood.

“That’s awesome!” You kneeled down so that you were pretty much at eye level with him. Hearing him say that made your heart feel so happy. You knew how shy he could be and he rarely ever talked about any kids that he was friends with, especially not with this much enthusiasm. “Who is it?”

“Maddie,” He answered and then pointed in the direction of where you assumed the girl was standing.

There were a handful of kids standing with their parents in the direction Olly was pointing to about ten or fifteen feet away, but when he further specified that she was “the girl holding the blue lunchbox,” you saw her. A girl with brown hair who was smiling at her dad who was smiling back at her and holding a hand up so that she could give it a high five.

You recognized him immediately.

In your mind, his name was “the worst person in the world.” In reality, his name was Steve Harrington.

You didn’t really pay attention to him until this past January because your kids weren’t in the same Kindergarten class. You actually didn’t even learn that he was the only other single parent in the grade until then.

It was one of your New Year’s resolutions to become more active and involved in school activities, PTA meetings, etc. Mainly because you knew that the other Kindergarten moms were judging you for barely doing anything aside from the occasional bake sale and the school was way too small for you to slip under the radar and not be noticed; those moms noticed everything.

Therefore, on the first meeting back after the Winter holiday break, you were there— five minutes late, but there nonetheless. Although, it could’ve been assumed that everyone thought you were an hour late with the amount of withering looks you received when you entered the gymnasium.

You offered a small apologetic smile and made a mental note to never be even a minute late again.

Leslie, the PTA president, was droning on and on about what big things were planned for the second half of the school year— somehow dragging out a short list of things that you thought could’ve been simply sent out in a mass email— when Steve walked in fifteen minutes after you. You fully expected him to receive the same type of annoyed looks that you had gotten, and maybe even more because he showed up later than you, but he got nothing but happy smiles from the majority of the moms.

That complete opposite reaction severely confused you and you wondered how he was able to receive such niceness when all you got was the coldest of shoulders.

Meeting after meeting it was continuously proven that he was the favorite among the moms, and it didn’t take you too long to learn why. He was a charmer, which everyone absolutely loved, and he seemed to effortlessly throw money at any school activity or fundraising event, another reason why he was so goddamn adored.

You were probably the only one that didn’t give a fuck about his charming personality, and instead, you would inwardly roll your eyes or scoff at pretty much anything he’d say and how easily the moms ate it up. Because when you really looked at it, you two were pretty much doing the same exact things— only moderately participating in events, showing up to the big monthly meetings instead of the weekly ones (and he was still always late to them), and not signing up for fields trips or activities that happened during school hours because of how overly demanding your jobs were; you’d learned from one particularly chatty mom that he worked at a pretty intense marketing firm. However, there was such a stark difference in treatment because he was the “hot single dad that gave a lot of money;” all of the moms practically fell at his feet and seemed to only tolerate you.

Maybe it was a hint of jealousy talking, but he still always managed to piss you off and you didn’t like him at all. It was an animosity that was perhaps just one-sided, and you hated yourself for caring so much, but that changed in April; during a moment where if the circumstances were different, it would’ve felt like some sort of romcom-esque “meet cute.” But, you basically despised Steve, so instead the whole situation just made your blood boil.

It was a Thursday at almost five o’clock during parent-teacher conference week; it was the only day that could work in your insanely busy schedule and you managed to get the latest time slot with Oliver’s teacher. You were pacing in the hallway where all three of the Kindergarten classrooms were; a coffee in one hand, because it was the only thing keeping you going that late in the day, and your phone in the other as you texted back an employee who was having problems with the oven. You were seconds away from calling him— because you knew that the issue would probably be solved quicker if you did so— but before you could, you were bombarded by someone who was quickly coming around the corner and they crashed into you. The abrupt collision was forceful enough to make your drink spill on you and your phone slip out of your hand.

You glanced down at your now coffee-stained white shirt and then up at the person who had caused this mess, and of course, it was Steve Harrington standing in front of you. You had to fight the immediate urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh, shit. My bad,” He quickly said. “I’m minutes away from being late for my parent-teacher meeting, so I was rushing from the parking lot. Now it really does make sense why teachers always said no running in the halls, right? Because something like this can happen.” As he rambled, you picked up your phone off the ground, glad that it wasn’t broken, and then you tossed your now mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can nearby. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Anyway, maybe I can pay for your dry cleaning? Or so you can at least get another coffee later or tomorrow?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve thought that the gesture was nice. But, since it was coming from Steve Harrington it only pissed you off because, of course, money was his immediate thought solution.

That time it was too difficult to not allow yourself to roll your eyes at him. “Y’know, throwing money at everything doesn’t make you a good dad. It actually makes you kind of an asshole.”

You knew that you were being a little too harsh, but it was still too hard to feel completely regretful about your words; you were pissed at this current situation that was fully caused by him and you were also pissed simply because he was him.

You weren’t sure what you expected Steve to respond with, but he easily matched your angry energy. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Well, at least, I can do something. You barely show up to things and can’t give money to make up for it, so how much of a ‘good mom’ does that make you?”

Before you could say anything in response to that— a response that probably would’ve started and ended with a simple “Fuck you”— you heard your name being called from behind you by Oliver’s teacher. With everything happening with the man in front of you right then, you’d almost forgotten the meeting you were at the school for in the first place.

Instead of saying anything to Steve, you simply buttoned up the black cardigan you were wearing to cover the majority of the coffee stain on your shirt and then walked away from him, putting on a smile and greeting Miss Wilson.

It wasn’t outwardly stated right then, but it was pretty much sealed then that this disliking could no longer be confused for being something that was one-sided. You two hadn’t said any words to each other since that moment in the hallway, and instead only annoyed looks and glares were shared anytime you saw one another; which lucky for you, actually wasn’t too frequent.

On the first day of school, you learned that his daughter was in the same First Grade class as Oliver due to the emergency contact form all the parents had to fill out, which was then condensed into one sheet and shared among everyone for “just in case” purposes, and Steve’s name and number was on there. You really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal because you could still avoid him like the plague that he was, and that was exactly what you’d been doing for the last two weeks.

However, you did not think that your kids would become friends.

“Can we have a playdate tomorrow?” Oliver asked.

You racked your brain for a response; a way to say no without actually saying it because you really did hate disappointing him. “Oh, um, this weekend is gonna be really busy. But, maybe soon though, okay?”

He frowned a bit but still nodded. “Okay.”

You held out your hand so that he could slip his in and then you started heading to your car.

“We have to go back to the coffee shop for a few more hours before we can go home. But, how does pizza for dinner tonight sound?” You asked as you buckled him in his car seat. The offer was an attempt to cheer him up and you hoped it worked; probably like every other six-year-old, Oliver loved pizza.

He smiled at that. “Ooh, yeah, that’s good.”

You smiled back at him and inwardly hoped that this playdate idea would blow over over the next few days. And that the thought of you having to spend any sort of willing time with Steve Harrington would become a scary thought that only occasionally haunted your dreams, instead of it being something that actually became real.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Of course, it did not blow over.

Excuse after excuse would fall from your lips, but Olly was determined and your words of “Today’s really busy” or “This weekend probably won’t be good” didn’t discourage him from continuing to ask.

As the days came and went and a week passed with Olly asking the same question each day, you were so close to sucking it up and calling Steve and finally setting something up, but you were still way too fucking prideful to do so.

That didn’t stop you from thinking about doing it most days, though. But it was easier not to think about it when you were busying yourself at the coffee shop, and it was almost too easy to make yourself busy in some way there. And that was something that didn’t change on this Friday.

Oliver was sitting in his favorite booth working on homework and you were behind the counter, making a simple hot chocolate for the older woman who would come in almost every afternoon, typically around four o’clock.

“Enjoy,” You said with a smile as you handed her the drink.

Things in the coffee shop were calm and quiet, and you were about to go see if Oliver needed any help with the worksheets he was doing, but then your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. When you grabbed it, you saw that it was a random number calling, and maybe you should’ve thought about that fact more before answering, but you didn’t.

“Hello?”

“Has Oliver asked to have a playdate with Madeline?” You quickly recognized Steve’s voice.

You let out a small sigh. “At least once a day since last Friday.”

“Same here with Maddie,” Steve said and then let out a sigh of his own. “We need to let this happen. I don’t think either of them are gonna let it go.”

At first, you didn’t say anything in response to his words. You wanted to disagree with Steve, but you knew that you couldn’t because it was the truth. And then there was the fact that every time you gave some sort of fake excuse to Olly, you would feel like the worst parent ever, so maybe it would be best to just finally let this happen. “You’re right. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes,” He answered. “We can just do a quick thing at the park if that’s good?”

That was exactly what you were about to suggest, but you didn't tell him that. “Yeah, that’s fine. Is twelve okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to you and instead simply ended the call there. The lack of an actual goodbye almost made you want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you didn’t because you knew that you probably would’ve done the same thing to him.

You put your phone back in your pocket and walked over to the two-person booth Oliver was sitting at, sliding in across from him. “Hey, bud, I have really fun news. You and Maddie are finally gonna have your playdate tomorrow.”

Seeing the elated grin immediately take over his face made the fact that you’d be spending a few hours with Steve Harrington tomorrow worth it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You never thought you’d witness a moment where Steve was actually on time for something, but for once he was. When you pulled into the small parking lot of the park, you already saw him sitting on one of the wooden benches that surrounded the playground watching Maddie go down a slide.

Moments after the car was put in park, Oliver was unbuckling himself and rushing to get out so that he could head over to where Maddie was. You could only smile at his enthusiasm before telling him to slow down and be careful.

You took your time walking over to where Steve was because of how much you were dreading it, and for a moment you debated whether or not you should sit next to him or go to the bench that was empty and a few feet away. Ultimately, you decided to just sit next to him; you could be civil for a couple of hours.

“Hi,” You said as you sat down on the wooden bench.

He looked at you just for a second before turning back to the playground. “Hey.”

“How are you?” You asked. It was always easy to go into the mundane small talk you’d have all day with customers; aside from the ones that were the regulars that you knew too well and couldn’t simply ask how they were doing without actually meaning it.

“Good,” Steve responded. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered with a small nod.

A silence that could only be deemed as awkward began to linger in the air because it felt as if there was absolutely nothing else to say. If he was a customer, you would’ve simply taken his order and he would have walked away by now, but obviously, this wasn’t that kind of interaction. The only sound that could be heard was the handful of other parents with their children and your own kids looking happier than ever.

It could’ve been easy for you to make some joke to Steve about how weird this entire situation felt because of how much animosity you had toward each other and now there you two were on a sort of playdate of your own because of your kids. And then the two of you would have laughed about this current set of circumstances, and maybe that would’ve allowed things to actually start to feel somewhat okay. But, it just felt way too hard to let yourself actually be civil toward him, even though you had told yourself that you would be.

“I’m very surprised you’re actually on time for something. After all the PTA meetings, I thought you were incapable of it,” You said, still staring straight ahead as you then took a sip from the water you had in your hand.

“And you’re late, which is not surprising,” He told you with a small scoff.

Aside from that first time you had been late for the meeting, there was one other time where you were late again and, of course, that was also the one time where Steve managed to be a little bit earlier than you. Given that he had been late countless times, you felt that it was both stupid and unwarranted for him to use the single time he saw you late against you.

“Whatever,” You said as you rolled your eyes. “Not that I even owe you an explanation for being only five minutes late today, but the coffee shop was starting to have a rush right before me and Olly were about to leave, and I didn’t want to leave my employee right then to completely fend for himself.”

“That’s interesting because every time I drive by the place, it looks the complete opposite of busy.”

Perhaps this entire conversation immediately taking the shittiest turn was your fault because you “fired the first shot,” but his words felt equivalent to a low blow. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected by them and tried your hardest not to recognize the slight validity behind them— the coffee shop had its peak times and also its deserted moments, and maybe sometimes it did feel a bit more deserted than not, but you were surviving and right then that was all that mattered you.

You glared harshly at him although he wasn’t even looking back at you. Muttering a “Fuck you” was right on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back and instead got up from the bench and started moving to an empty one. Steve didn’t say anything else to you and instead seemed completely unfazed by you walking away from him.

You watched Oliver and Maddie talking and laughing at the top of a slide that was big enough to fit both of them and they went down it together. Seeing how happy Olly was and knowing that this was the first friend he actually wanted to spend time with outside of school, made dealing with Steve’s bullshit right then completely okay with you.

When two o’clock rolled around, you were waving Oliver over to you, much to his dismay.

“I know it’s time to go, but can we all get food together?” He asked when he walked over to you.

For once, the excuse for saying no that you were about to tell him wasn’t a made-up one. “We gotta go pick Eddie up from the airport, remember? Also, he told me that he has a bunch of cool stuff to give you from California.”

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said, a smile taking over his face. “I almost forgot he was coming today.”

He went over to where Maddie was now standing with Steve and he gave her a quick hug goodbye before running back over to you.

Instead of giving any sort of verbal goodbye to Steve, you simply gave him a small wave. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you’d now probably have to see him more often than not. With how happy Oliver and Maddie looked playing together, you knew that today definitely wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

Somehow with the wave Steve gave back to you, you could tell that he knew that too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were in no way related to Eddie Munson, but he felt more like family than your actual family.

He was the first person you met when you moved to Hawkins three years ago. After going through a messy divorce that felt like it had actively taken at least ten years off of your life, it felt so goddamn nice to immediately make a friend in this town that was completely new to you.

Coming from Chicago, a city that had always felt way too big for you, any small town sounded perfect in your eyes, and you were able to find a cheap-ish house in Hawkins, so it was the winner.

You met Eddie at a grocery store a week after you’d moved in. It was also your birthday, a fact that three-year-old Oliver didn’t fail to tell Eddie when you accidentally bumped into him— quite literally crashed your cart into the guy— in the bread aisle.

“Happy birthday,” He had said to you and you gave him a small smile before proceeding to say another sorry for bumping your cart into him. He then looked at Oliver. “Are you gonna bake a birthday cake for her?”

Oliver visibly brightened and turned to you. “Ooh, yeah, can we bake a cake?”

“Sure,” You nodded and smiled at his eagerness.

He smiled widely and then looked back at Eddie. “Can you come over and help us make it?”

“Oh, um…” Eddie’s eyes met yours to see what you wanted him to say.

“You can, if you want,” You told him and you genuinely meant your words. He seemed normal, and even though this was a small town, he was the first person who had been so outwardly nice to you and Olly.

“Okay, yeah, I’d love to help,” He said with a nod. “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You told him your name and then gestured to Olly. “And this is Oliver.”

“Sorry for suggesting this idea and contributing to the sugar high that will probably be happening tonight,” Eddie told you as you moved to the next aisle where all of the baking stuff was, you were giving Oliver full reign over what cake mix you got.

“Apology not accepted,” You responded but still smiled at him.

Many hours later, when the cake was baked and Oliver was tucked away in bed after having two pieces of it, you pulled out a bottle of wine for you and Eddie to drink. And then because of the wine and because of the fact that birthdays always managed to bring something severely melancholic out of you, you started crying to him about your divorce that had just been finalized, the affair that your husband had with his coworker being the catalyst for said divorce, and how you felt so weirdly alone in this new town but also not at all alone because you had Oliver.

Somehow none of that managed to scare him away— even though you would’ve been completely understanding if it had— and a friendship had been cemented ever since.

Eight months ago, he moved to California because of a huge opportunity he got with his music; it was something he had been waiting for for so many years. You had called it a “big break,” but he thought that sounded too pretentious.

You hadn’t really wanted him to leave, he was your best friend— your only friend in this town— but you were also so happy for him. And the distance actually managed to feel somewhat okay because you two would talk all the time and he’d visit every few months.

Oliver especially didn’t mind the distance because whenever Eddie did come back to Hawkins for a visit, it always meant that he’d get some cool new toys from him. And this time proved to be no different.

The three of you were in the coffee shop. It was quiet right then— you didn’t think about Steve’s words from earlier— and you watched Eddie smile at Oliver as he animatedly talked about something, you assumed he was telling Eddie about Madeline.

Moments later, Eddie walked over to where you stood behind the counter, beginning the clean-up process because you were closing in about an hour.

“It’s really nice seeing how fucking– I mean fudging,” He turned around to see if Oliver heard what he’d just said, but Olly was too busy playing with his new red toy car to hear anything. “Happy he is. All he’s been doing is rambling about his new friend.”

“Yeah, it’s really great,” You said, smiling as you thought about how happy he had been at the park earlier. You then thought about Steve and inwardly sighed. “Well, for the most part.”

“Why? Is she a bad influence or something? I didn’t think there could be bad influences in first grade,” Eddie said and then laughed a bit. “Actually, scratch that, I was definitely a bad influence in first grade.”

An amused look crossed your face. “You talk a lot about this “bad boy persona” you used to have, but I don’t know if I really believe it because all I see is a guy that actually enjoys buying toys for a six-year-old.”

He smiled at that. “I changed. Turned over a new leaf.”

“Mhm, got it,” You responded, your voice slightly sarcastic because it was still hard to imagine Eddie as anything other than the nice guy who baked a cake with you and Oliver on your birthday. “Anyway, though, it’s not the girl that’s the problem; she’s really sweet and nice. It’s her parent that’s the worst person in the world.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay, tell me all about this mean mom drama.”

“It’s a dad, actually,” You said and then started explaining everything that you had never said aloud before. You told Eddie all of it— how Steve was so easily able to throw money at anything the school needed, how he was basically treated like a King among the other moms because of that, the incident that happened last year during parent-teacher conference week where everything between you two fully came to a head, and the shitty conversation you had with him at the park only hours earlier.

“Wow, I’ve missed a lot. I can’t believe you have a nemesis, and I also can’t believe you never told me about him.”

“He’s the last thing I ever want to think about, let alone talk about. If it wasn’t for Oliver becoming friends with his daughter, you wouldn’t be hearing about him. Also, I feel like “nemesis” is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I can call him your mortal enemy, if you want,” Eddie said with a teasing smile and you only rolled your eyes in response, refraining from flipping him off. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. Aside from you, people rarely ever move to this town for fun, so he’s probably been here his whole life.”

You actually never thought about the potential of Eddie knowing Steve, although it was completely plausible given the reason your friend just mentioned.

“Steve Harrington.”

“Oh.”

From Eddie’s reaction, the answer to your next question seemed pretty obvious but you still decided to ask it. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we were in high school at the same time.”

“Okay, what was he like?”

“All the typical high school stuff. He was a popular guy, played sports, was kind of a jerk but pretty much all of the girls still loved him.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That sounds very accurate.”

“By the end of it, though, he seemed like somewhat of a changed guy. Got his heart broken by the nice girl, and then became friends with actual good people,” Eddie told you, and that was the one part of his description of the Steve that he had known that managed to actually surprise you. “I didn’t know he had a kid now.”

“Yup, and he’s also changed back into the jerk that you originally knew him as in high school,” You said. “And the most fuc— fudged up part of it all is that we should be friends. Which probably makes me sound crazy because of everything I just said, but it’s true. Me and him are basically in the same boat— the only single parents in the grade, we both have time-consuming jobs, and now even our kids are friends with each other. It would just make sense if we were actually friends too.”

“I mean, you still could be, right?”

You immediately shook your head. “Wrong. There’s no way that could ever happen.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The rest of September and most of October flew by with what felt like an abrupt kind of quickness.

Absolutely nothing changed between you and Steve, even with Eddie’s idea that maybe it could. The only time the two of you talked to each other was if it involved your kids and if you were setting up the day and time for another park playdate, which quickly managed to become a weekly thing because of how adamant Oliver and Madeline were— just like you assumed they’d be.

It may have seemed a little weird, these brief conversations you’d have with one another that were nothing more and nothing less than transactional, but it worked perfectly for you two.

“This weekend is gonna be pretty busy for me, so is tomorrow after school good?” You asked Steve. A PTA meeting had just ended and you and him were lingering by the same exit that the kids would come out of when school was over.

You were pretty close to not showing up to this Thursday night meeting, but you knew that you had to because it was about the Winter Carnival happening in December. It was a huge event that would be an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, which was why they talked about it so far in advance and why attendance at any meeting discussing it was pretty much mandatory.

Steve shook his head at your question. “I have this big work thing tomorrow, so I have to pick up Maddie and then drop her off at the babysitter before rushing back to the city.”

You nodded understandingly at his words. A part of you knew that you should have left it at that, because you tried to set something up and that should’ve been more than enough of an effort, but instead, you found yourself saying, “I can pick her up and take the two of them to the park tomorrow if you want.”

Steve was quiet and your words simply lingered in the open air. You almost regretted making the suggestion because you felt as if he was somehow going to find a way to be a dick about it, but then he looked at you curiously, and another look that you couldn’t decipher crossed his face too as he said, “You sure?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, it’s really no problem.” And it honestly wasn’t a problem in the slightest; Madeline was the sweetest girl ever. She reminded you nothing of Steve, so you assumed that she got her personality from her mom; you still had no idea what that entire situation entailed. “What time will you be done with work?”

“Hopefully around five or six,” He answered. There was still that look on his face, which you still couldn’t tell what it said, but you really wanted to know.

“Okay, after the park, I can take them back to my house and you can pick Maddie up from there when you’re done with work,” You said, only a little surprised at how easily this idea came together. “Olly’s been wanting to show her his new fish, anyway.”

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned his fish to me probably a thousand times. It’s blue and purple, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a betta fish; Barnaby.”

“Barnaby?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea how Olly came up with that name, but I will admit that it does sound more like the name of an old sailor lost at sea rather than a fish. But, in some weird way, both of those things are actually kind of related.”

Steve laughed at that and somehow it didn’t sound the least bit mocking or condescending, it was more amused. Hearing that sound coming from him shocked you as much as it, surprisingly, made you inwardly smile.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The amount of dark clouds in the sky didn’t necessarily faze you until a raindrop hit your cheek as you sat on a park bench watching Oliver and Madeline on the playground. It was a light drizzle that transformed into something heavier in a matter of minutes and you realized that you probably should’ve been more mindful of what the weather was going to be today.

Neither of the kids really minded the rain putting an end to their time at the park though, because Oliver was happy to go home so that Maddie could finally see the fish.

They bounded up the stairs to Olly’s room the second you unlocked the front door, and you headed to the kitchen, sending a simple text to Steve in the process.

You: Had to leave the park because of the rain. We’re at my place now

At first, the lack of a response from him didn’t surprise you because it was only around four-thirty and he was probably busy. He was also Steve Harrington and he rarely ever responded to you in a timely manner.

You heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs and you looked up from your phone, after checking it for probably the hundredth time in the past hour, to see Olly and Maddie coming into the kitchen.

“Can you convince my dad to get me a fish?” Maddie asked as she and Olly joined you at the small dining table.

You smiled and nodded at her. “I can try.”

“Thanks,” She said, smiling back at you. “The only time I get to see any pets is at my Aunt Robin’s house. She has a golden retriever.”

“Oh, that’s really cool. What’s its name?”

“Willow. She’s a girl.”

Oliver looked at you. “Can we get a dog next?”

“Let’s just worry about Barnaby for now,” You told Olly, giving him a small smile. You could only imagine how much more hectic your life would become if you two got a dog anytime soon. “I was thinking about doing dino nuggets and french fries for you guys for dinner. How does that sound?”

They both perked up at that and nodded and you got up to turn on the oven, purposefully leaving your phone on the table because you wanted a break from impulsively checking it every few minutes. It slightly annoyed you that you heard nothing from Steve yet, and it annoyed you even more that the lack of a response felt personal. You wondered if he actually hadn’t seen your message yet, or if he was simply being an asshole and not responding with a simple “Okay” or even a thumbs up to it on purpose.

It wasn’t until the time was a little after six, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Steve, that your initial annoyance toward him not responding to you and not giving you any sort of updates on what was happening with him over the past few hours, morphed into something that resembled worry.

You walked out of the living room and into the kitchen and pulled your phone out of your back pocket so that you could call him. Your gaze moved toward the window as you pressed your phone to your ear; the weather outside still looked pretty shitty. The call went straight to voicemail and you sighed as you waited for the beep.

“Hey, um, it’s me. That’s probably very obvious. Um, anyway, you said you’d be done with work around five or six, but I haven’t heard anything from you in the last couple of hours… I hope everything’s fine. Um, any sort of update would be really nice. Call, or at least text me, whenever you get this. Okay… Bye.”

You hung up and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

It was an obvious fact that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, but that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him.

The only thing that managed to not make you feel completely worried was that Maddie seemed okay and not worried at all. Instead, she and Olly were in the living room playing in the fort you made for them out of couch cushions and throw blankets.

You went back into the living room and sat down on the small loveseat that was the only piece of furniture that still had its cushion left.

“You guys okay in there?”

“Yup!”

“Yes!”

Hearing their chorus of happy “yeses” made you inwardly sigh in relief and lean back into the chair, letting your eyes shut just for a second and muttering to yourself that everything was and would be fine.

Your phone was still glued to your hand as you grabbed the remote with your other and turned on a random Disney movie for the kids to listen to as background noise and for you to take your mind off of Steve, even though all you were waiting and hoping for was for your phone to vibrate in your hand with a call or text from him.

You didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you were startled awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The abruptness of it actually managed to scare you, so much so that you could immediately feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears when you opened your eyes.

The second Lilo & Stitch movie was now playing on the TV and through your half-awake haze, you found the remote to pause it. You then peeked inside the fort and saw that Olly and Maddie were asleep.

As you rubbed the slight tiredness out of your eyes and got up from the couch, you checked your phone and saw that the time was 8:11pm. The doorbell rang again as you unlocked the door and the first thing that you noticed when you opened it was that it was no longer raining, you were unsure when it had finally stopped.

“Hi.”

Seeing Steve standing in front of you managed to immediately wash away the worry you had been feeling for the last couple of hours. And it was quickly and completely replaced with the annoyance you’d initially felt. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Hearing a genuine apology come from Steve Harrington’s mouth actually managed to baffle you. “My meeting at work ran over, and there was no way to get out of it, not even for a second. And then there was a ton of traffic because of the rain, so a drive that typically only takes thirty minutes took longer than an hour. Also, I have the worst and probably oldest phone in the world because it never holds a charge anymore, and it was plugged in during the entire drive but didn’t turn on at all. So, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been able to call or text or anything. These past few hours have been hell.” He let out a sigh and then looked at you, concerned. “How’s Maddie? Is she okay?”

There were a lot of words that had been thrown at you during Steve’s ramble, but hearing his full explanation and how apologetic he was made your annoyance with him dissipate into nothing just like your worry did. Instead, you felt a little bad for him because of all the shit he had to endure in the past few hours. You pushed the door open further to fully let him in.

“She’s good. She’s okay. She and Olly are sleeping in the living room. I made them a little fort,” You told him as he walked in and you pointed to where the kids were in the living room, and he nodded when he saw the construction of couch cushions and blankets.

You looked at Steve and hesitated for a moment. You knew that this was where the goodbyes for the night should’ve started, but it didn’t feel right to have him leave just yet; he still seemed sort of frazzled and stressed about everything that happened. You started heading toward the kitchen and he followed you. “Do you maybe, uh, want something to drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I have water and juice boxes,” You told him and turned around to meet his eyes, he was leaning against the small island. “It’s moments like these where it sucks being the “good influence/leading by example” parent because I can’t offer you something fun, like a soda.”

Steve laughed a bit; it still felt so foreign hearing that sound from him. “A juice box is fine. That’s probably all that lives at my house too.”

You grabbed one from the fridge and then closed it. “I hope you like apple.”

“My favorite, actually,” He said as you handed the drink to him, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you didn’t have enough time to really ponder that before he completely changed the subject. “How was Maddie when you picked her up? When I told her about it this morning, she seemed excited about it and about hanging out with Oliver after school too, but was she really okay?”

You nodded at his question. “She was great. They both had fun at the park and didn’t even mind the rain because they really wanted to come here and see the fish.”

He smiled and you could see the immediate relief wash over his face. “Okay.”

“She also wants me to try and convince you to get her a fish.”

“Of course she does,” He said before taking a sip from the juice box. You had to admit, it was a little funny seeing a man wearing professional clothes, that were probably so expensive, drinking from a tiny juice box meant for little kids.

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you pick her up every day,” You told him as you turned and went back into the fridge to pull out a water for yourself. “Given your job, I thought you’d just have a babysitter or someone pick her up most of the time. I had no idea it was half an hour away.”

“I didn’t used to do it… Her, um, her mom would,” He said and you could tell by the way he said those words that whatever happened involving Maddie’s mom was a touchy subject. It sounded similar to how you’d usually sound whenever you talked about Oliver’s dad— a little sad and a lot like you’d rather talk about anything else.

Your mind started desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject; it was what you would’ve wanted him to do for you if the tables were turned. But, before you could say the first thing that came to mind, which was, “So, I wonder if it’s gonna rain tomorrow too,” Steve started talking again.

“It had become a routine because of how hectic my job is. She’d always drop Maddie off and pick her up. But, she, uh… She left last year, so that changed everything,” He told you. You closed the fridge and turned around to face him; you forgot to grab your water but that was the last thing on your mind right then.

This conversation suddenly felt like completely uncharted territory between you and Steve because you two did not talk about touchy subjects— you and him barely talked about anything at all. But, for some odd reason, you didn’t necessarily mind the serious turn to the conversation because maybe it was a shit ton of honesty that was needed for you two to actually, finally, not dislike each other.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes away from yours. He instead fixed his attention on his juice box in hand. “It happened around this time in October. She dropped Maddie off at school, but didn’t pick her up.”

Hearing him say that surprised you as much as it confused you because you had absolutely no idea that happened last year. But with how busy you’d been then, and since you weren’t friends with any of the “gossipy” moms that somehow always knew everything, it did make a little sense why you knew nothing.

“Maddie was waiting in the office for about two hours after school was over before I could get there because I was in a meeting and didn’t see the calls coming from the school. She didn’t really know what was happening, but she was still so sad and I think that somehow a small part of her did know.” He shook his head and sighed, a look that could only be deemed as melancholic crossed his face. “I never want her to feel abandoned like that again, so I always make sure to drop her off and pick her up now.”

As he said his last words, something managed to shift inside of you in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, his name was no longer “the worst person in the world” in your mind.

In all of your months of having this “nemesis relationship” — as Eddie would call it— with Steve Harrington, you never thought that your opinion of him would ever be able to change. However, in this moment of you two standing across from each other at your small kitchen island as Steve held a freaking juice box in his hand, it finally did. He was a good person, a really fucking good person.

You were able to see it so goddamn easily then— the exact ways that he and Maddie were just alike. She got her personality from him, you were now quite literally certain of it. And you immediately felt bad for ever thinking differently.

“I’m sorry about what I said last year during conference week,” You told him, suddenly ready to give him your own burst of honesty. “I was pissed that you spilled my coffee all over me, and I was even more pissed because it was you, and you annoyed me so much. Because even though we’re kind of in the same boat with the amount of “active” things we do for the school, all of the moms love you so much and I swear they hate me, and it’s just so annoying.” You let out a small sigh and then met his gaze before saying the words that you didn’t think you’d ever say to him. “Anyway, you’re a really good dad, and I’m so sorry for telling you differently.”

“I’m sorry for what I said that day too. You’re a really great mom,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it slightly shocked you how much hearing that meant to you. Aside from Eddie, you couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to you. “And I don't think the moms at school actually like me. I think they just pity me because of everything that happened, and how they basically saw it all blow up in real time. Since pre-school, Maddie’s mom was dropping her off and picking her up, and suddenly one day she was completely gone. I swear the number of times I got phone calls that were a bunch of them saying, “We’re here for you,” but they really just wanted to get the full story about what happened, was insane during those first few months.”

“Jesus, small town moms are the worst,” You said as you shook your head. “Or, at least, ours are.”

You looked away from Steve and turned around, finally going back to the fridge to grab a water. “Oliver’s dad was kind of the same way. He left too. Or maybe it’s actually not the same because I made him leave— he was having an affair with his coworker. But, he also wanted to leave and be with her, so maybe it actually is a little similar. Sorry, now I’m just rambling about that asshole,” You said and rolled your eyes at yourself. You weren’t sure why you even decided to circle the conversation back to your exes.

“Do you and Oliver ever see him anymore?” Steve asked, and when you closed the fridge and turned back to face him, you shook your head at his question.

“Not since we moved here. He does the bare minimum and sends Olly checks for his birthday and Christmas. Which I think is dumb because no kid wants a check as a present; even I would rather get an actual gift than a stupid check,” You told Steve as you opened up your water. “Does Maddie ever see her mom, or does she ever come around sometimes?”

With the way she left, you were almost certain that the answer was no, but you were still curious.

“No, she hasn’t, and I don’t think she would ever want to,” Steve answered and you gave him a small nod of understanding before he continued. “I remember about a week after everything happened, and after avoiding my many calls and texts, she finally called me. She was really apologetic about the way she decided to leave, but she said that she just couldn’t do it anymore because none of this life that we had here was making her happy, and she didn’t want me to try and convince her to stay. When she said that, it made me realize that the smallest part of me knew that this would eventually happen. Maddie was completely unexpected and our relationship had already gotten pretty bad before we found out, so neither of us was remotely ready to be parents, but we still decided to do it and try to make it all work. Right when I saw Maddie for the first time I knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and that never changed. But, it wasn’t the same way for her mom, and sometimes it seemed like she felt the complete opposite way. So, in a way, I can understand why she knew she had to leave. I hate the way that she did it, but ultimately I understand that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she’d never want it.” A sad smile took over his face.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to,” You told him, suddenly feeling bad that you had been the one to bring the conversation back to this in the first place. “We can change the subject to anything else. Maybe the weather? I wonder if it’s gonna rain again tomorrow…”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I really never thought I’d say this because we’ve never had a real conversation before, but I think I actually like talking to you.” He shook his head at his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds fucked up.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I feel the same exact way. Ten minutes ago I couldn’t really stand the thought of having any sort of conversation with you, and now I feel like an idiot for hating you all this time. So, this is insanely fast progress,” You said and then immediately thought of something. “Wow, I really wish I had some alcohol for us to drink right now because us actually not despising each other anymore is a milestone that truly should be toasted to.”

Steve laughed a bit; it was nice hearing that sound after all the sad stuff that had just been shared by both of you. He raised his juice box toward you a bit. “This will have to do, I guess.”

You raised your water and “clinked” it with the juice box. “Cheers to… whatever we are now.”

It didn’t feel entirely like a friendship, but it, at least, felt like you two could actually be nice to one another and not feel pained to do so.

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a quick nod and then finished off the rest of what was left in his small juice box. “I should grab Maddie and head home. She has dance class at eight in the morning. She hates it for the most part, but she has a recital next week and I told her that she should push through until that and then we can quit. A part of me is kind of glad that she hates it, though, because classes are insanely expensive.”

“Olly’s starting soccer at the end of the month,” You told him. “It’s for boys and girls. You should see if Maddie wants to do that.”

“If Oliver’s doing it, she’ll probably say yes.”

You nodded at that and how true it was on both sides. “I’ll text you the information.”

“Thanks,” He said and smiled.

You followed him as he walked into the living room to get Maddie. She was still fast asleep as her arms circled around his neck when he picked her up. You grabbed her bookbag that she and Oliver left by the front door and helped Steve hook one of his arms in it.

Somehow something was silently exchanged in that last look shared between you and him before you said your final goodbyes for the night, and you softly shut and locked your door behind him. It was a look that expressed that you both were glad about what happened in the past twenty minutes— the honesty-filled conversation that led to you two finally understanding one another and realizing how you were actually more alike than either of you had ever thought.

It was a realization that was simultaneously surprising and refreshing.

“Goodnight,” You said, giving him a small smile and he smiled back at you.

“Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

PART TWO

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #steve harrington series

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upsidedownwithsteve · 5 months

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DAY EIGHT: dad!Steve Harrington x fem!reader TW: mentions of vomiting, pregnancy

You groaned and flushed the toilet for what you hoped was last time that morning.

Fighting the urge to rest your head on the seat, you huffed and scooted backwards on the cold bathroom tiles, choosing to lean against the wall instead. Deeming it safe, someone knocked on the door.

“Babe? You okay?”

You groaned again, eyes closed and brow wrinkled as you clutched your stomach.

“I got you some water…” Steve paused, waiting for something, anything from you. Hearing nothing other than deep breathing and some scuffling, he tried again. “Baby, can I come in?”

You still didn’t answer but you shuffled forward rather ungracefully, pyjama covered knees sliding on the tiles. You pulled at the door handle and the door swung open, the smell of cinnamon and baked cookies making your stomach twirl once more.

But Steve was there, holding a giant mug in the shape of Santa Claus’ jolly face and he was bathed in the multicoloured lights that you’d wound around the stairway bannister a week earlier. He looked sad for you, matching crinkled brow as he moved into the bathroom. He joined you on the floor, crossed legged in his tartan pyjama pants that your mom had bought for him at the beginning of the month.

A big hand soothed down your back, gentle fingers pressing into your tense spine. You sagged against him, eyes closed, relishing in his touch.

“Here, honey,” Steve nudged the mug onto your hand, your fingers tightening over Santa’s rosy cheeks. “Small sips, yeah?”

You did as you were told, only opening your eyes after the bitter taste in your mouth was gone and your throat didn’t feel as raw. Steve was smiling sadly at you and he smelled like the kitchen, like brown sugar and cinnamon and candy canes. It didn’t make your stomach knot as much as it had before.

“M’sorry,” you murmured, pushing your head into his chest. You heard Steve tut, his hand on your back pressing your closer. Before he could argue with you, you continued, voice muffled by his sweater. “I’m ruining Christmas Eve baking.”

Steve laughed then, gentle and soft and not mean at all. You felt his lips at your clammy forehead, wanted to tell him that you were gross, but you knew your weak complaints would be scolded.

“Honey, you’re carrying my kid,” Steve said softly, wonder and awe still in his voice at the statement, even four months in. “You’re not ruining anything.”

“So sick,” you mumbled weakly. Your body was barely keeping itself up now, your full weight, small baby bump and all, held up against Steve’s frame. Not that he minded. “Baby doesn’t like cinnamon, apparently.”

“How rude,” Steve said mildly, pressing another kiss to your hairline. Every touch he gave you was gentle, overwhelming with fondness, a softness that was more obvious than ever.

You snorted, one hand on your swollen stomach, the other creeping inside Steve’s jumper. You traced his ribs with loving fingers, seeking out his warmth when your overheated body started to chill.

“Isn’t it?” You yawned, already too tired. "The rudest."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #EAC23 #dad!steve harrington

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luveline · 6 months

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kisses before dinner —the harrington family gets ready for a dinner party. mom!reader, 3k

"...and I told mommy she needed my help but your mom doesn't like listening to me anymore," Steve says, eyebrows pulled together, "because of that one time I told her the side of the refrigerator was supposed to feel warm and it broke. But I'm usually right."

Wren blinks at him dopily where she lies in the dip of his thighs. Steve has his knees up, back flat on the couch and head propped by a pink fluffy heart pillow from Bethie's bed to speak to her face to face.

"I promise you'll understand when you're older. I'm a genius." He strokes her little forehead. Steve's youngest daughter is too baby to look like anybody, but he's starting to think she looks like him anyway. "And now mom has to run the washing machine again when we were already super duper busy."

"Shut up!" you yell from the kitchen.

Bethie giggles from the same place, seemingly, raising her voice to join in, "Yeah, daddy! Shut up!"

"That's so not nice." Steve shakes his head at Wren in dramatic disbelief. She smiles at him. "Isn't that mean? Don't you think that's sick?"

"You're being a know-it-all again!" you continue. "And we'd be less busy if you were helping me!"

"I'm sick of helping," Steve says conversationally. "I help all day long."

Wren gurgles and lifts one of her hands toward him. Steve holds it in his, rubbing at her palm with a gentle thumb. She totally gets what he's saying, agrees with him no doubt, breathing out heavily as Steve gives her hand a wave up and down.

"Steve," you say, dropping the angry act to pull him in, "please, sweetheart, I really do need your help."

"How am I supposed to say no to that?" Steve whispers. "Does she guilt trip you that way?"

Wren doesn't giggle, but the breathy, happy sound she makes as he crunches forward to kiss her forehead is close enough to make Steve laugh himself. He moves her carefully into the curve of his arm and stands, wishing he could stretch, exhausted by another long week but undeniably happy. "Let's go see what they want," he murmurs to Wren.

You and Bethie are in the kitchen by the stove. She's wearing oven mitts too big for her, and you're crouched behind her offering steady instructions. "Don't touch the sides, my love. Only the baking tray. If it feels warm and you're not happy, tell me, and I'll take it straight away." You wear your own oven gloves.

"I can do it," Beth insists, squaring her features.

Beth takes the baking tray and its cookies into her hands, walking with short steps to the counter, where she slides the tray up high. You lean over her to make sure it's settled before closing the oven and dashing a kiss into her cheek. "Well done, gorgeous girl," you say, scratching lightly at her shoulder as she preens under the praise. "One day you'll be making cookies all by yourself."

"But not for a while?" she asks, startled.

You kiss her again. "Not for a long, long time."

"Did you need my help or my approval?" Steve asks, his hand making a small thump with each pat he taps into Wren's back. "A taste tester, right?"

"I need you to find your other daughters. I have no idea where they are," you say with a rueful smile.

"Okay." Steve has carried babies. He's carried them for years, tiny ones and ones too big to need it, carried nonetheless. But something about Wren in all her newness makes him nervous. He hates carrying her up and down the stairs, too aware of the times he's missed a step or tripped up. "Can you take her?"

"Yes!" Bethie says, running to her unofficial chair at the dining table and holding out her mitted arms as she sits.

You nod at him and take the seat next to her. Steve hands Wren over into her sister's waiting hold, more than confident you're still there to take over if things get overwhelming. Wren looks comically large in Bethie's lap.

"I have her, dad." Beth leans down to touch her nose to Wren's. "Hi, Wren. Hello, hello," she says softly.

Steve gives your cheek a swift but loving stroke and leaves in search of the other kids. He can hear Dove in her room talking to herself in make believe, but Avery, the oldest, isn't with her, nor is she in her bedroom. Steve knocks on the bathroom door.

"Are you in there, Ave?"

No answer. Steve raises his voice. "I'm coming in."

He peeks inside slowly but she's not there. Eyebrows raised, Steve asks, "Avery, where are you?" Nothing. "Avery Harrington, don't make me worry! Please."

He lets his head drift to one side, listening for an answer. Avery rarely gets told off and she hates it; she'd jump to tell him where she was if she were up here.

Or so he thinks. Just as he's taking the stairs again to look for her someplace he must have missed, he hears sniffling coming from the master bedroom.

Idiot, he thinks, relief taking tight hold. He doesn't like not knowing where the girls are. He should've checked your room to begin with.

"Ave?" he says, opening his bedroom door. "You in here?"

"I'm here, dad," she says, peering up from the space between the top of the bed and his nightstand, kneeling on the carpeted floor.

"What are you doing down there? We gotta get ready for Aunt Robin's party."

Her cheeks shine in the slice of light from the open door. Steve closes it behind him and flicks on the big light, rounding the end of the bed to help her up. He hooks his hands under her arms and pulls her into his chest, bed springs creaking as their joined weight lands.

"Why are you crying?" he asks, cuddling her to his front. "What's wrong? Why didn't you come and find me? You can't stay here crying all by yourself, that's not cool. How am I supposed to make it better if I don't know what's wrong?"

"Dove bit me."

Steve gasps. "Again?"

"On my hand, dad." She holds up her wrist. "It hurts."

He presses his cheek to the top of her head, taking her arm tenderly to analyse the bite. It's a nasty thing, not bleeding but cruel and stark. "I'm sorry," he says.

"You said I can't be mean–"

"No, you can't–"

"But it was really mean."

"I know," he murmurs, "but I just don't… we can't be mean to Dove when she bites because she doesn't know it's wrong, okay? She doesn't remember. She knows it's the wrong thing to do, but by the time I tell her she doesn't know what she did." What Steve means is that the first time Dove bit Avery, Avery reacted on impulse and slapped her sister in the stomach. There isn't a bridge yet to connect to Dove why she might have received such a thing (though Steve teaches all the girls that hitting is never okay no matter what), so Dove just thought she was being hit. It was a very tense half hour of tears.

Steve rubs Avery's back as she starts to cry in earnest. "I will tell her not to bite you, honey. I swear, I won't let her be mean to you. I'll tell her until she understands."

He's been trying to teach Dove not to bite, but saying 'no' doesn't seem to do anything. Positive incentives don't last, and taking her toys wouldn't make much sense, because again, she doesn't get it.

"You know," Steve says, wiping her cheeks tenderly, "I'll tell her again and again and again until she stops, and it'll work, because it worked with you."

"What?"

"You used to bite me sometimes, but you used to bite mom all the time."

Avery looks at him in horror. "I did?"

He puts her down onto her feet and takes her hand. He'd like to tell her this story while sitting down, but Robin's house beckons and time is running short. "Mom would come home from work and you'd be very happy to see her, but she would ask you what you did today and where we went and you'd bite her."

He peeks into Dove's room and finds her missing. Downstairs, you say, "No! No, no, babe!" and he assumes she's been found.

"Why would I do that?"

Steve holds her hand buoyed between them as he descends the stairs. "We decided it was because you missed her. When your Dove's age you don't know how to say that. You don't even know what that is. I'm a thousand years old and I don't even know what I'm feeling half the time. So mom stopped hugging you after work for a bit until you calmed down."

"But I don't go to work, dad. Why did Dove bite me?"

"What were you doing?"

"We were playing with Mr Scruffles and the care bears and she just bit me for no reason!"

Steve stops at the bottom of the stairs. "Were you being a bossy boots?"

Avery glares at him. "I just told her to stop taking Funshine bear."

"Well," Steve says, smiling at her in apology, "maybe, next time, you can come and tell me, and then I'll tell her to stop taking Funshine bear, and then when she wants to bite someone she bites me instead of you. That could work, yeah?" He would much prefer it.

Steve takes Avery to the kitchen, where you've transferred Wren into her bassinet while Bethie eats a cookie, her cheeks messy with chocolate, and Dove languishes in your arms, small hands touching your hair curiously.

"Dove, will you look at this?" he asks, showing her Avery's bite mark. "You see that, honey? That's what you did when you bit your sister. We don't bite."

You gasp. "No!" you say, stern but far from cruel. "We don't bite. We only bite when we want to eat something."

Dove frowns.

"When you bite," Steve says, trying to appeal to her smarts. It'll stick eventually. "You give Avery an owie. That's why we can't bite, okay?"

Dove can tell she's being chided even if she doesn't totally get why. "No," she says unhappily.

"Can you say sorry to Avery?" you ask, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze. "Say, I'm sorry, Avery."

"Sorry, Ave'y," she mumbles.

Avery can't glare for long. She doesn't hold a grudge, not like her dad. "It's okay. You didn't mean to."

You beam at Avery like she's hung the moon. "You're so nice, my big girl. Can I have a look at your wrist? Did that hurt?"

Her mother's concern draws fresh tears. You swap children, and Dove quickly forgets what happened as Avery cries in little sniffles on the countertop. Steve brims with a familiar brand of pride as you comfort her, kissing and offering treats to help her feel better. I picked the right one might be applicable, only Steve didn't choose you so much as he happened upon you one day like a miracle, and then begged to keep you. Luckily for him, you've always been very agreeable on that front.

(As in, you love him more than can be said in any one language.)

"What are you upto?" Steve asks Bethie.

She shows him her food-covered hands. He nods like this is awesome, but in reality chocolate stains her t-shirt and she's going to have to change before they leave. Dove rams herself against his leg and looks up with her eyes widened.

"What?" he asks.

"Um…"

"What do you want?" he asks, softer. She starts to frown again. Steve bends. "Drink? Crackers?" No dice. "What about some pear slices?"

Dove loves pears more than anything, the sticky, sugary sliced kind from the can. Her frown disappears and she walks off, thankful to be understood. Steve's just grateful he wasn't bitten.

"What else did you need?" Steve asks, winding around you where you're cleaning Avery's cheeks. A damp washcloth drips down your arm.

"More time. Have any?"

"Wren's bag is done, bottles done, Bethie's dinner." He whispers the last part. Bethie is a picky eater and she grows pickier with time, and Robin knows this, but she's not a parent (as sweet and caring as she might be for the girls). Only something you or Steve have made is something Bethie will deign to eat, and she's insecure about it despite having no reason to be. "Beth needs a new top. Your blouse needs to go in the dryer, and I can't find my nice pants. Avery?"

"I don't need anything."

"You sure? You have Mr Scruffles?"

She wraps her arms around your neck. "Just want a hug."

"Then I guess I'm busy while daddy does all my chores," you tease Steve lightly, your touch similarly soft where it tracks up and down Avery's arm. "I'm sorry Dove bit you again. It's not fair. Not fair at all. Maybe we should only have you playing downstairs until me and dad figure it out, okay? I don't want her to keep taking bits of you."

Steve clears the checklist. Not to brag or anything, but he's a pro. You both are. Life is hectic as always and you knew getting out the door would be a process, so you planned accordingly, and you arrive at Robin's with time to spare, though Dove smells strongly of sugary pears and Bethie's new shirt has fingerprints on the back.

"Hi, crew!" Robin greets. "It's my favourite Harringtons!"

"We're your only Harringtons."

"That's not true, I went to college with a Harrington." Robin ushers the girls inside. They want one thing and one thing alone —hugs. Dove is the most insistent, dropping your hand to offer Robin her arms. She picks the small girl up and smiles at her with a monumental amount of love. Robin doesn't have favourites but Dove demands it, sometimes. Avery says, "Hello, Aunt Robin," and hugs her stomach, while Bethie puts her arm behind Avery and hugs them both.

Steve's arm shakes. "Any chance I can get through? This is a really heavy baby."

"Hi," Robin says, ignoring him without guilt. "You guys are the best part about having a best friend."

Steve logs that one for later revenge and eases around the mass of bodies to take Wren into the living room. "Holy fuck," he says, "I thought you weren't coming?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I wanted to see the girls. It has nothing to do with you."

They hug and pat each other on the back, and then Eddie drops to his knees in front of Wren's car seat to smile at her. "I love her so much. Can I have this one? Y'already have so many."

"No you absolutely cannot. Where's Dustin?"

"They're all in the backyard. Mora's teaching them how to make grass flutes, or something."

"How'd you get out of that?"

Eddie shrugs. "She doesn't like me. Doesn't make any sense, goth and metal are like brothers."

"Is she goth? I thought we settled on hippie who wears dark clothing."

"You guys are such losers!" Robin says, like a tree adorned in girl-shaped ornaments. "Don't bitch about Mora."

"Don't swear in front of my kids!"

You, having taken off your shoes and coat, unlike Steve, shimmy around the table. "He said 'fucking bitch' in front of Bethie the other day," you gossip, sitting by your friend's side. Eddie gives you a quick hug. You're undoubtedly his favourite Harrington.

"He's a disgusting man who shouldn't have kids."

You gasp and elbow him. "How dare you."

"Can we go play with Stinky?" Avery asks Robin.

Robin puts Dove down, short hair flying every which way, "If you can find him. But be nice, okay? He's agitated today. Mora says it's something about the supermoon."

Avery laughs and Dove races to follow her sister up the stairs. "Ave, remember what I said, okay?" Steve calls after her. "Come and tell me if she's being bad! And no going in the bathroom!"

Bethie remains, oddly. Though it's obvious why she's stayed the longer she lingers, her gaze flickering between you and Eddie.

He holds his arms out. "Hello, Beth. You want a bro hug?"

Bethie laughs and meanders into his waiting arms, where he pat-pat-pats her back like he did to Steve, eliciting a wave of happy giggles. "You've gotten so big again!" Eddie says, moving her away kindly. "Woah!"

"I'm glad people have stopped saying that to me," you joke.

Steve's delighted, laughing loud and sudden, and you're always pleased to have made him laugh, practically collapsing in his direction. He pulls at you until you're arm's reach.

"What does that mean, Eddie?" Bethie whispers.

Eddie pulls her into his lap. "It means your mom is happy about baby Wren being born."

"I'm really happy too."

"I bet you are! Your dad told me you're like his little helper, is that true?"

Steve turns into your cheek. A quick stolen moment before he kisses under your ear and pulls away. "Wow," he says, smiling at you, "could we, like, actually have a conversation right now? A full one?"

You beam. "What do you wanna talk about?"

Steve could happily talk about everything and nothing with you. Before bed you guys are usually tired but excited enough to be alone together that you'll talk about the colour of the new dish soap or Avery's broken pinky nail. "Seen any good movies lately?"

You give him the look. He practically invented it, that sticky, gooey eyed love as you murmur, "Mm, no. Don't think so. How about you?"

He leans in for a kiss.

"Yikes," Eddie says, covering a giggling Bethie's eyes with his hands. "Robin, house rules, please!"

Steve drops his arms heavily over your shoulders for a warm hug. "He's just jealous," he whispers.

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bangaveragewhitewine · 7 months

Text

soft slow, morning glow

Steve Harrington x Reader

A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways.

October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.

Word count: 4.3K

Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents.

Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).

Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again.

Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland

Steve Harrington was always an early riser.

As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover.

Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him.

He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground.

As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora.

He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive.

When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around.

When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.

Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment.

In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists.

Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was.

He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.

Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city.

When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him.

You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches.

In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.

He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.

You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94.

A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.

When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it.

Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995.

Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her.

Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life.

On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield.

Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.

When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control.

You did plenty of all three.

Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).

Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm.

Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier.

When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.

You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes.

By the Fall of ‘97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier.

This morning, you wake first.

Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday. Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully.

Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard.

The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.

Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing.

This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time…

The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired.

“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets.

“Mm, needed to pee.”

You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well.

Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year.

You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting.

Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last.

Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise.

This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open.

“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.

“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish.

Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist.

“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her.

“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed.

In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for.

“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.”

Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!”

You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet.

“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed.

“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces.

You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”

She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles.

Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face.

“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm.

“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully.

“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”

“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.

Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.

The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal.

Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you.

Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.

You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair.

“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.”

Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?”

His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously.

Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon.

“Feeling good. You okay?”

Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that.

“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?”

You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure.

“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly.

“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.

You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?”

Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?”

You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?”

Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.”

You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss.

“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw.

“Love you. So much, babe.”

Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you).

“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth.

“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”

“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt.

“What? The kid’s gotta know.”

The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course).

Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)

The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek.

Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick.

“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready.

Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom.

His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!

You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne.

Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.

You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine.

Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington character study #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington x f!reader #prosaic fic #bangaveragefics

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sunshinesteviee · 21 days

Text

fast asleep - s.h.

you and steve pull a prank on your little girl when she pretends to be asleep; based on a tiktok trend i've seen a few times hehe. dad!steve & mom!reader; 1.3k

Masterlist

Phoebe is sprawled across the couch, half in your lap, half in Steve’s. Your fingers stroke through her hair slowly, careful to not pull too hard on the delicate strands. Between that, and Steve’s hand on her calf, thumb stroking short lines over her skin, she’d fallen asleep halfway through The Little Mermaid. But now that the credits are rolling, you can tell she’s at least somewhat awake, pretending to be asleep so Steve will carry her to bed. Her eyes and lips twitch slightly, in the way they always do when kids pretend they’re sleeping.

Steve will carry her to bed either way, but exchanging a look with him, you know he’s going to have a bit of fun with it.

“Oh man. Looks like Bee is fast asleep! Missed half the movie, what a bummer. Guess I’ll have to carry her to bed if we can’t get her up,” he says, like he’s whispering, but still loud enough for Phoebe to hear.

“Uh oh. Bee? Gotta get up, sweet girl,” you try, shaking her shoulder gently. The movement causes the corner of her mouth to curl ever so slightly, and you can tell she’s fighting hard to keep her eyes closed.

“Bumblebee?” Steve asks, fingertips pressing into the sole of her foot lightly, just enough to tickle, “Wake up, Bee!”

Though she refuses to open her eyes, a short, muffled giggle escapes her lips, pressed together tightly. Your eyes meet Steve’s over your daughter’s figure, and you both have to hold back your own laughter. She is absolutely everything.

“Ya know,” Steve says after a moment, still barely above a whisper, “I heard that there’s one way to tell for sure whether or not a kid’s asleep.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, no idea where he’s going with this, but ready to play along, “What’s that?”

“Well, if you pick up their arm and it stays in the air, they’re actually asleep. But if it falls back down, they’re just faking it.”

“We should definitely try, just to make sure she’s not tricking us.”

“Definitely,” Steve repeats, nodding seriously as he pulls the frilly sock covering her tiny foot up her ankle.

“Alright, let’s see if she’s asleep…” you trail off, taking Phoebe’s wrist in your hand, lifting it up above her head.

Her hand is so small, just a fraction of the size of your hand. Your thumb rubs over the back of her hand in a soft circle once, twice. Sometimes you can’t believe that you made every single perfect part of the human stretched out across your laps. Making eye contact with Steve, he gives you a bright smile, and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

Giving the tiny hand in yours a gentle squeeze, you finally let go of it. There’s a split second where Phoebe’s hand seems like it’s going to fall back into her lap, but it stays in the air. You can see the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, all too pleased with herself and what she thinks she’s getting away with.

It takes everything in you to not burst out laughing loudly at the way her hand stays in the air, the way you can see her lips twitching again, fighting her own smile. Steve slaps a hand over his mouth, smothering the laugh that threatens to burst out of him, head turning to bury his face into a pillow nearby. You bite down on your bottom lip, stifling more giggles as you say, “Oh, she’s fast asleep. Totally knocked out, I can’t believe it.”

She totally thinks she’s tricked the two of you, even more so when Steve finally composes himself enough to chime in, “Guess I’ll have to carry her to bed, we can’t leave her down here when she’s asleep like this.” You know that was her goal the entire time, and this time, she can’t help the smile that breaks out on her face. Despite the smiling and giggling, you’re impressed that she hasn’t opened her eyes yet.

You gently push her arm down, and then brush a strand of hair out of her face, leaning over her tiny body to press a kiss to her head, “Daddy’s gonna bring you to bed, Bee. Sweet dreams, sleepy girl.”

Untangling himself from the blankets and pile of limbs, Steve finally manages to get up from the couch. He reaches towards the ceiling in a stretch that pulls the hem of his shirt up his torso, yawning loudly. You can’t tell if the yawn is real, or if it’s just for show for your daughter. A wink is shot your way as he takes notice of your staring, leaning down to peck your lips softly. Then he turns to his daughter in your lap with an amused smile, shaking his head fondly.

His hands sneak under her arms, and then, as if she weighs nothing, he hoists her off the couch and into the air. You’re pretty sure you hear a quiet giggle as he rearranges Phoebe against his chest, moving her head to rest on his shoulder, her legs around his waist, an arm under her butt to support her. He makes it look easy, though he pretends to groan at the effort, “Oof! My little girl isn’t so little anymore. Gotta carry her to bed while I still can… Be right back, honey.” He says the last part to you as he turns towards the stairs.

He’s joking, mostly, though she is getting bigger and bigger every day. Enough that the thought of not being able to do this soon breaks his heart a little bit. So, he hums softly as he trudges up the stairs to Phoebe’s room, running a hand up and down her back as he goes. He’ll do this for as long as she lets him.

Steve gets Phoebe into bed easily, having had four years of practice, and tucks her in carefully. She has yet to open her eyes as far as he can tell, and he’s genuinely impressed, though she does seem to finally be nodding off now that she’s in her bed, wrapped in her blankets. He moves one of her stuffed animals closer to her body and bends at the waist to kiss her head softly. It seems she’s really sleepy enough now to forget the charade, and a tiny, tired voice floats up from her pillow, “Nanite, Daddy. Lub you…”

“Goodnight, Bee, sweet dreams, baby. I love you so much.”

With one more kiss to her head, Steve finally straightens and turns on the white noise machine by her bed before slipping out of her room. He leaves the door open just a crack, the way she likes it so a bit of light from the hall can seep in, and makes his way back to you.

“Out like a light. For real this time,” he announces proudly as he stops in front of you on the couch.

“You’re amazing. I can’t believe she fell for that! Think you can carry me up to bed, too?” you ask with a grin, holding your hands up towards him. Steve’s eyes narrow, as if you’ve just challenged him, even though you were totally kidding.

“You know I can, do I need to prove it again?” he asks, a hand on his hip for a moment before he takes one of your hands and bends down towards you.

“No! I was just— I was kid— oof! Steve!” You know exactly what he’s planning to do and you start giggling nervously, but you can barely get a sentence out before he’s hauling you over his shoulder in one quick movement. He’s even stronger than he looks, and you know he’s not gonna drop you, despite the shriek you let out.

“Shhh!!” he laughs loudly as he makes his way to your bedroom, hands squeezing your legs just shy of meanly, “Bee just fell asleep!”

“Then put me down, Steve!” you huff, feigning irritation as you hit his back lightly, shying away from the door frame as he pushes your bedroom door open. “If you drop me, I’m gonna divorce y—“

You’re cut off again, this time as Steve drops you onto the bed. He does it carefully, only letting go of you when you’re a short distance from the mattress. He’s hovering over you in a second, a hand on hip and a ridiculously handsome smirk on his face, "What was that?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Harrington."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem!reader #sunshinesteviee #sunshinesteviee writing

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littlebabyyd0ll · 7 months

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KINKTOBER DAY FIVE, FIRST TIME PARENTS

After your daughter’s very first birthday, you and Steve admire the life that you’ve made for yourselves together.

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!reader

Warnings: Not much, talk of birth and Steve’s horrible parents. Talk of being young parents. Reader is described to have long hair.

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist ! Kinktober 2023

It’s quiet.

Too quiet. There hasn’t been a moment like this since Laila was born, a whole year ago. To the day. You spent Halloween night last year with a scrunched up, sweating face and pushing with all your might. One good thing comes with having a child born on an evening of festivities — birthday parties. Yours and Steve’s home comes alive on her birthday, with people celebrating and bringing their own little ones, everyone dressed up as characters from books or TV shows. Yourself and Steve had dressed as Leia and Han, with Laila snuggled down in an ewok onesie. Steve had insisted on you dressing up as her namesake – since you had refused to name your actual daughter leia. Steve, in his ever loving and altruistic glory, had let you have your way. It’s not very often that Steve doesn't bend over backwards to make you happy, and he’s come so far to the teenage douchebag that tried to hook up with you at a halloween party in your Junior year.

You look up at your husband now, tucked up in his chest as he stares over the bars of your daughter’s crib, and you’ve never seen something more beautiful, so peaceful. You admire him as he admires the creation that you made together. His hair is falling from the hours of wear on the spray, half of the luscious locks covering his forehead. His white shirt is untucked from his blue jeans, Han’s signature belt discarded somewhere. Your own outfit is a mess too, crinkled up, a stain from Layla’s throw-up hours earlier resting on your shoulders, hair let down from the signature buns. A dreamy sigh flows from your lips as you stare up at your lover, your height difference even more prominent without your party shoes on. He’s so soft, so soft despite everything he’s been through, despite the scars lining his back, despite the viscous words from his asshole father, despite the way that everyone believed that he would grow into nothing – probably spend the rest of his life at Family Video after he chose not to pursue college. He’s so kind, so caring, so loving. The man has nothing but love in his heart for you, for the baby that lies peacefully asleep.

He doted on you desperately while you were pregnant, and has been the same ever since Layla arrived.

He dotes on you now, without realising it. One of his large hands stokes down the length of your hair. The other warms the curve of your waist, and his heartbeat is enough to settle your own. Though it beats much faster every time you look at him.

“We have a one year old.” He acknowledges lowly, in those voices that you use to try not to wake her. Still, he speaks like he can’t believe it, and neither can you. The time has flown by so quick.

You hum in reply, pushing your face a little deeper into his chest. You can’t wait to give him his dream, provide a family of Harringtons that love and adore one another. Harringtons that support each others dreams and aspirations, that believe in one another despite all else. You can’t wait until that next positive test, to give him another baby, to see him flourish in the same way that he does with Layla, being her father. He’s perfect.

“She looks more and more like you every day.” It's not strictly true, because Layla most definitely looks more like Steve, with her button nose and dark brown irises, she only really has your hair. But still, you entertain his notion.

“She’s the prettiest little girl in the world.”

Finally, he looks down at you. His hand is still moving against your hair, and he tucks some away behind your ear. His lips curl upwards at the way you look up at him, the same way that you looked at him when he very first saved you from the Demogorgon. It’s a look that says you’d never accept another fate, never breathe in a universe that doesn't have him in it, and where he isn't yours to keep. You look at him like he hung the moon and stars, with your chin against his beating chest. He would never trade anything for this – for his girls.

“You’re my girl.” He murmurs before dropping a kiss on your lips, then to your forehead. “My two girls. Given me the best life I could’ve ever asked for, you know that?” He gets sentimental a lot, but it still pulls at your heartstrings and has your eyes filling with tears. He places his hands on each of your rosy cheeks, thumbs swiping at the tears that fall. Because, suddenly, you've realised that you're the luckiest girl in the world. Perfect husband. Perfect daughter. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Made my dreams come true.”

“I love you,” You croak between tears, and you wish that your motherly hormones would give you a days rest.

Steve presses his lips to yours once more, before tucking you back into his chest. He releases a heavy sigh as you both look down into the crib. “I love you so much. I love you both more than anything in the world.”

And in the moment of silence that follows, you thank your lucky stars that they gifted you with such devout love, and the most handsome boy in Hawkins.

#<3 steve harrington #kinktober 2023 #dad!steve harrington #mom!reader #mum!reader #parent fic #soft fic #comfort fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #soft and sweet #abby's kinktober !

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eds6ngel · 4 months

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✮⋆｡°✩⋆˙ a christmas miracle

a 'when i kissed the teacher' spinoff.

summary: you and steve were in a weird situation. you weren't actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren't exactly being safe either. so, how will steve react when he opens his final christmas present?

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. afab!reader. 90s!au. mentions and allusions to sex. mentions of pregnancy. pet names. kissing. tons of crying. alena being too young to understand pregnancy (kinda cute tho). alena being a cutie pie as always. some worries over steve's reaction. but mostly fluff and comfort!! [1.9k].

author's note: hi everyone!! i am back!! my first semester of uni is finally over, so i can get back to fic writing a little more! i couldn't neglect my happy family like this, so i've tackled a pregnancy fic! i've never been pregnant, but i do wish to be in my life, so all of my research has been for my own benefit and utilised in this fic. if i'm inaccurate in any parts, please let me know for the benefit of the readers and myself!! ♡

It was hard not announcing the news to Steve. Having to attend your first scan without him was heartbreaking, but the look upon the nurse’s face after you told her you were going to wrap up the ultrasound photo, along with a card saying “Merry Christmas Daddy” and a pair of small, cream, woolen socks, just confirmed your decision was the right one.

You and Steve were in a sort of weird situation. You had stopped using protection, but weren’t in a position were you were actively trying to get pregnant. You agreed that any time from now was an okay time for the two of you to have a child, but also weren’t bothered if the pregnancy tests came back negative.

But, a little Christmas miracle decided to form inside of you, the test showing two lines on December 11th, 1999.

Steve and Alena had gone grocery shopping for an hour, the perfect opportunity for you to wrap Steve’s gift.

Rolling out the wrapping paper, you placed a grey, fluffy blanket in the centre, before laying on top the Christmas card which read:

Hi Daddy.

I’m six weeks old today!

I can’t wait to meet you soon! I’m planning to enter the world on August 20th, 2000.

My mom is keeping me very safe right now as I grow, but I’ll still be listening out for you from inside my home.

See you in nine months.

Love, your future child <3

And as you were about to place the ultrasound photo next to the cream baby socks you previous put underneath the card, your eyes started welling with tears once more.

Was it the hormones? Maybe. But, something in you felt this was all natural. You were growing a human life inside of you, one that has half of your DNA and the other half the love of your life’s. That was something to bask in the intense emotion of.

With everything laid out neatly, you reached over for the sellotape, folding over the edges and carefully sticking them in place.

Wrapping the gift in a pretty cream bow, matching the socks inside, and adding a label reading “To my darling Stevie,” you added it to the pile of increasing gifts in the corner of yours and Steve’s bedroom.

Now, just a week to go until he gets his surprise.

You cradle your stomach, despite the size not increasing at all yet, and whisper to your unborn child “A week and he’ll know, my love. Your beautiful existence will be known.”

“Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!”

You are awoken by the sound of your bouncing ten-year-old, aggressively rocking your fiancé as he groans loudly, his eyes adjusting to the light peaking through the window.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” he murmurs, you opening up one eye as Alena’s full set of brand-new adult teeth smile right at you.

“And what are you doing up so early, missy?” you ask, the clock on the bedside table next to Steve shining a bright 6:00 in the morning, illuminating the room in a red glow.

“Mom” she drags out, rolling her eyes playfully, “You know what day it is!”

You tap your chin lightly, playing along with the joke, “Hmm… I feel as if I may need a reminder.”

“It’s Christmas Mom! And I may or may not have seen all the presents you left underneath the tree…” her vocal pitch increases, looking away in a guilty look as Steve reaches up and pulls her down into his body, the girl screaming as he ruffles her hair.

“Did someone be naughty and peak underneath the tree?” he grits through his teeth, Alena shouting in a reply, “I didn’t mean to, I promise! I saw it on the way to your room!”

You begin to tickle her sides as Steve holds her in place against his chest, making the girl scream in delight loudly, “Is someone now on Santa’s naughty list?”

“Mom…” she pouts her lips, a grumpy expression adorning her face as you sigh sadly, “I know sweet cheeks, you don’t believe in him anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

You hold out your arms as you wrap her in a warm hug, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I knew you would realise eventually. You’re getting too old!”

She gasps and looks into your eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “I am not old! You and Dad are old.”

You start giggling in shock as Steve just opens his mouth wide, “You better watch yourself, pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” you hold up a finger in warning, before pointing it over to Steve, “Dad doesn’t like being reminded he’s in his mid-thirties.”

And now it is Steve’s turn to attack you, but instead with aggressive kisses, littering them up your neck and across your face lightly, Alena now old enough to understand the playful love between the two of you. “You’re almost thirty as well, you know.”

“Two more years to go, babe. I’m still in my prime development decade,” you smirk at him.

And it wasn’t just you who was developing.

A loud gasp can be heard along with the shredding of paper as Alena holds up her latest gift, “You actually got me it?”

For such a small gadget, the Barbie Digital Camera cost you $70, the most expensive gift yet, but maybe not the one which will cause the biggest reaction.

“Of course I did! It’s the one thing you kept pointing at in the magazine!”

She giggles with a bright smile, “Thank you! Thank you!”

She launches herself at you, the motherly instinct in you clutching onto your stomach to protect your unborn child, hoping Steve didn’t notice the movement. The surprise would be known in the next half an hour.

“And after you’ve taken your photos, we can connect it to Dad’s computer and see it come to life! How cool is that?”

“Can I take it to school?” she asks, clutching the box in her hands.

“I assume you can! But, just ask Mrs. Critchley before you take it in, okay?”

“Okay!” she smiles, plopping herself back down on the carpet to open the rest of her gifts.

Your hands began to sweat. Alena was all done opening her presents, patiently waiting for you and Steve to unwrap yours.

Steve let you attend to your gifts first. Everything from a brand-new necklace designed with a rose quartz, matching your engagement ring, to the latest Nokia phone, you were thankful for everything he had bought you, praising him with many gentle kisses and warm hugs.

Now, it was Steve’s turn. You specifically told him to leave one present until last, leading him to give you an eyebrow raise and a shrug before simply agreeing, used to your weirdness by now. You got him everything from a new cologne to a new pair of Nike shoes, the soles of his old pair wearing thin from how much he was working over the Christmas holidays.

But, after one final kiss, it was finally time.

“Can I open this now?” Steve jokes, the nerves deeply settling in your stomach. You don’t even know why you were worried, you had stopped using protection in mutual agreement, knowing kids could be a possibility from that result. There was just a voice in your head trying to convince you an awful reaction would occur.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, you can.”

“Hey,” he puts an arm on your shoulder, “Why are you so nervous?”

You lightly chuckle, “You’ll find out once you open the gift.”

Even after all of these years, Steve still wasn’t the smartest. Verbal cues were not his strong suit, but my God could he read body language like a champ.

He gives you a confused look before unwrapping the cream-coloured bow, delicately tearing apart the paper as his eyes immediately notice the ultrasound scan.

He may be oblivious, but he isn’t that oblivious. He has one very similar in his bedside table drawer of his sweet ten-year-old daughter sat next to him.

The tears form at his eyes before he can even recognise them. Small sniffles enter the atmosphere as his hazel eyes make contact with you, “Are you serious?”

And the tears follow suit for you, nodding frantically as he leans across the floor to collect you in his arms, crying into your shoulder.

“How far along?” he mumbles into your shoulder, tears dripping onto the red fabric of your dress.

“Read the card and you’ll find out.”

Steve was too drawn into the ultrasound scan to even notice the card you had gotten him. Releasing from the hug, he keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, picking up the card and carefully opening it, reading the words you had written, the tears increasing as he noticed it was from the perspective of his baby.

“Wha— How? When did you get this done?” he stutters out, still in complete shock of the entire moment.

“Pregnancy test has been in the bathroom trash can for two weeks. I was scared you were going to notice it for a while, but then I remembered it’s you, and you don’t notice anything,” you giggle, Steve not even bothered by the joking insult, too caught up in his own emotions, “And two Thursday’s ago, I didn’t go to work. Went to the hospital and got the scan, and just hung around Starcourt until the time I would normally come home.”

“Well, you fooled me,” he chuckles, leaning in for a kiss which you gladly accept, cupping his cheeks as you smile into it.

“I love you so much, beautiful girl. And I love the baby who is growing inside of you. You’re so strong. Your body is so strong. I just— I can’t wait. I can’t wait to meet them.”

His hand had migrated down to your stomach, gently cradling the unborn child inside of you.

Alena had finally looked up from her Etch-a-Sketch, noticing the tears falling down both yours and Steve’s cheeks, your hands holding tightly onto each side of his head as your foreheads were leant against each other, kneeling on the soft carpet of the living room.

“Mom? Dad? Why are you crying?”

Steve turns around to face his daughter, you looking softly into her eyes, “Because Mom is having a baby, sweetie.”

Steve passes her the ultrasound scan, her face scrunching up in confusion as she points at it, “Why is it just a black blob?”

Steve begins laughing as his head falls onto your shoulder, sweetly rubbing up and down the sides of your waist.

“Because when a baby is first made, it starts out as a black blob and then grows into the full size baby we all know and love,” you explain gently to her.

“Hmm…” she takes in, before asking her next question, “But how did it get there?”

Your eyes widen as Steve’s hands stop on your waist, refusing to lift his head and look at his daughter.

You smile through the awkwardness, remembering that her sex education lessons would start in a matter of months, “You’ll find out soon, baby.”

thank you ever so much for reading!! do you guys want any more pregnancy related fics? i really want to do some research into post-partum for myself, so do you want me to skip straight to that, or tackle other things like morning sickness, gender reveal, baby shower, stuff like that? feel free to let me know!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic @tlclick73 @steveshairspray @superlegend216

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