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inkluvs · 11 months

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easy, easy

a/n: this was one of my favorite blurbs so it seems appropriate for it to be the second i repost <3 originally posted a few weeks ago on my old blog, and i believe @stevenose / @skullrock requested this? oh!! and @forevermoreharrington n @ghostlyfleur betaed the original i think? <3 (0.4k)

cw: smut. nsfw. oral(fem recieving). he calls r honey a bunch of times sorry <3

steve harrington x fem! reader

Steve’s palms were firm on the pliant flesh of your thighs, holding your legs still as his lips pressed into your legs. He was insatiable, the way his mouth left behind marks that toed the line between pain and pleasure. His tongue smoothed over the purpling skin to soothe it.

“you’re teasing,” you accused. It took Steve a moment to register what you were saying, the boy too wrapped up in the comfort he found in between your legs.

“‘m not,” he whined. He wasn’t trying to, is what he meant. He was just trying to love on you, and it wasn’t his fault his brain short-circuited when he saw your thighs. Especially then since the weather was getting warmer and you’d started wearing dresses and skirts more often. It was funny, you thought, that despite the years he’d been with you his breath still seemed to hitch when he caught sight of you in those shorts. The way his hands were on you immediately, pushing you onto the nearest surface and crouching down so he was eye level with your cunt. You wouldn’t dare complain of course, as every time you enjoyed it thoroughly, there was just something about seeing Steve be so desperate he’d bend you over any surface, which, in this case, was the piano he had in his living room.

“you’re not?” He shook his head.

“I was gonna get there,” the words were rushed and toppled over one another as he mumbled them against your heated skin. He did as he promised, his lips slowly making their way to the sticky skin beside your cunt. You canted your hips forward in response to the contact and Steve smiled.

“easy, easy” he pressed his lips to your clit, “‘ve got you honey I know,”

He pressed his tongue to your folds and groaned, the taste of your arousal enough to make him dizzy no matter how many times he pushed his face in between your thighs. He could never get enough of you. His tongue was teasing, darting between your sensitive clit and your cunt, slipping into you every so often to pull a whine from the back of your throat.

“Oh, honey,” the low vibrations from his voice reverberated through your body and went straight to your core, your back arching on the wood of the instrument.

“there you go,” his middle two fingers slipped into you, the pads of them pressing against a part that had you seeing stars. His name tumbled past the barrier of your lips and Steve swore he was in heaven, your soft whine of his name music to his ears.

“shit, Steve,” his eyes snapped to yours, “please,”

“tell me what you want

“More,” your breath hitched in your throat when his thumb grazed your slit, “I need more.”

His fingers sped up inside you and his tongue delved into your cunt every so often, pulling a needy groan from the bottom of Steve’s throat as he pulled you closer and closer to your high.

“Let go for me baby,” he whispered into your pussy. And who were you to deprive him of such a privilege?

#ivy is writing !#han 🤬#steve harrington (ivy’s version)#steve harrington #ns/fw #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington concepts #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #ivy.nsfw #stluvs

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inkluvs · 11 months

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dancing in a snowglobe - s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

a/n: originally posted on april 11th || (original a/n) i'm posting this before i can start overthinking it sooo yeah <3 also @forevermoreharrington , @sweetbabygirlsworld , @mothymunson , @livingintheupsidedown , and @crappymixtape all proof read parts of it <3 || (1.9k)

warnings: eventual smut. kissing. petnames(baby ; honey ; etc).

summary: you're snowed in with steve. friends to lovers (1.9k)

A pale stream of sunlight poured in through the window leaving you disoriented as you stirred awake. Last time you checked you didn’t have a window adjacent to your bed, nor was it usually this warm in the morning. You thought back to the previous night and the only thing you could recollect was an all-consuming ringing in your ears. Unable to recall anything of substance, you pushed the covers down and sat up slowly, swinging your legs over the side when you were sure you wouldn’t get dizzy. Your eyes focused on the walls painted a mint green color, and what had happened last night seemed to finally click in your mind. You’d fallen asleep at Steve’s last night, the alcohol you’d consumed leaving you unable to drive home, though you didn’t remember falling asleep in that bedroom.

The walls in the hallway were gray with white trimming along the top. The house seemed oddly unlike him, the only signs that he’d even lived there being the scratches on the wall that he’d undoubtedly made as a child. There were windows on either side of the hallway with beige curtains pulled to the side. You looked out the window to see your car parked in the driveway and the road covered in snow.

It’s snowing. How did you fail to notice that before? Was that on the forecast? You pushed that thought away for a few minutes, opting to worry about that later.

Steve was already downstairs, the smell of his cooking making its way up the stairs along with the soft crackle of the fireplace. He turned down the stove at the sound of your footsteps, turning around to face you a moment later.

“D’you sleep okay?”

Somehow, Steve seemed softer in the mornings, his old t-shirt not quite covering his tummy as he reached over to grab a plate.

“Yeah,” you paused, “I don't remember falling asleep there though.” Steve stayed quiet for a minute, like a child who’d done something wrong and had been caught in the process. You’d assumed that you’d fallen asleep there and forgotten but something about the way Steve was looking at you, his honey-brown eyes twinkling with fondness, made you change your mind.

“I carried you there,” he said softly, “is that okay? thought you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch and I didn’t wanna wake you up…” You nodded with a smile and he seemed to deflate with relief.

“d’you wanna eat anything?” You nodded again and he smiled, flipping the pancake on the stove before putting it on the plate. He handed you the plate and you sat down, watching Steve move around the kitchen with a smile. For a second you let yourself indulge in the domesticity of that moment, let yourself believe that this was more than what it was, your friend doing a nice thing for you.

Do friends do this for one another?

You ignored the thought, grabbing syrup and pouring it on the pancakes before grabbing your silverware. Steve joined you a few minutes later, setting down his plate and a plate of sliced fruit before he sat down. His eyebrows puckered once he noticed you hadn’t started yet.

“You didn’t have to wait for me babe,” he frowned. You didn’t know why, but your heart swelled at the nickname. Maybe it was the ease with which it fell from his tongue. The way it came so easily to him to treat you like something delicate and fragile. It was the way you felt yourself melting at the word.

“I wanted to,” you paused, “it felt wrong to start without you.”

In complete honesty, you’d gotten distracted watching him. Trying to memorize every little habit of his in the morning to make the moment last longer. Something about him had you completely and utterly bewitched. The way he would hum softly to the record he had playing in the background soothing you.

You ate in silence for a few minutes, both of you looking up every so often only to see the other doing the same. The only thing you could hear was the scraping of cutlery against ceramic plates. Steve was the one who penetrated the silence, the scrape of his chair legs against the ground making him wince as he stood up. You followed suit a few minutes after, setting your plate and utensils in the sink before washing your hands.

“it’s snowing” He regretted the words as soon as they fell from his lips. You didn’t give him much time to mull it over though, relieved that he’d been the one to start a conversation as you nodded.

“It’s pretty,”

He smiled.

“You think?”

“Almost distracts you from the fact that you’re snowed in.”

It was true. Somehow he’d gotten through breakfast and the majority of this conversation without thinking about that. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to spend time with you, he did. In fact, he’d dreamed about having a morning similar to this one with you for a while. But all Steve could think about was how right it felt to see you in his kitchen. To see you leaning against the counter as you messed with the hem of your shirt. He tore his eyes away from yours and you did the same, somehow able to sense the nature of his thoughts. Unable to continue the conversation, Steve excused himself to clean, which. in his mind, wasn’t a lie. The kitchen was a mess from last night. So much so that you couldn’t believe you didn’t notice it earlier. You stood there for a few moments before following, deciding that he would need your help considering the state of his house.

By the time you were finished, the both of you were exhausted. The dust that was stirred up made Steve sneeze, and still, he insisted on taking the vacuum cleaner from you, insisting that you’d already done enough. You know he didn't have any ill intentions in doing so, in fact, you couldn’t help but daydream about that moment.

Your back is pressed against his torso, and the warmth from his skin was seeping into yours through your shirt as he whispered to you, “Honey, you know you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you said simply. You could feel the vibrations in his chest as he spoke softly.

“You've done lots already, let me help,” It was a sort of back and forth, a dance with one hand tied behind your back as the both of you refused to acknowledge what was obviously there. At some point you let him have it, turning around to face him only to realize you’d overestimated the distance between the both of you. Your breath hitched and for a moment, so short that you thought you imagined it, you could see a flicker of want in his eyes. He stood there, his gaze lingering just a second too long on your lips before he swallowed and he stepped back to give you space.

He’d wanted to kiss you and you knew it. You could see it in the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallowed. Could feel it in the way his heartbeat had quickened when your chest was pressed against his. And all you could think was why? Why didn’t he kiss you? Why did he ask if you wanted to share his bed? Why had you agreed? Granted he could see you shivering and this is something that you’d wanted forever but it didn't stop you from wondering.

“what’s on your mind?” His voice was soft, so soft, sweet even. His palm was flat against your back, leaving little room between the two of you as his scent, the faint smell of hairspray, consumed your senses. You couldn’t help but wonder how. How he could lay next to you and pretend nothing had happened. Have the warmth of his body seeping into your skin and be okay.

“Can I ask you something?”

“you just did babe,” a childlike smile made its way onto his lips. You fought the urge to mirror it.

“Steve you know what I meant,”

“You can ask me whatever you want, sweet.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?” you wondered, “we both wanted to so why didn’t you?”

“oh honey, I—” Your chest ached at the endearment.

“And why do you keep calling me that if you don’t want me?”

“What made you think I don’t want you?”

“Steve–”

“I want you babe, I’ve been wanting you, so much it hurts. As for your other question, I got scared.”

His voice got quiet, as if he were ashamed to admit it. Years later he’d explain to you that it all felt more real as he said the last word. Like the entire conversation had been a dream and he’d only now come to realize that the rise and fall of your chest underneath his palm was real. Nonetheless, you went quiet at his words, rewriting the situation in your mind according to the new piece of information you’d gotten.

“You got scared?”

“Mhm”

“you scared now?” he shook his head and you smiled, “then what's stopping you”

His lips were featherlight against yours, one hand holding your jaw like you were something delicate and fragile. Like you would shatter in his hands. It was all-consuming and barely there at the same time and you couldn’t help wanting more.

“Steve,” you pulled away for a second and he pouted at the loss of you, “More, please.”

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Words baby I need words.”

“Please, I need you,” That seemed to be good enough for him as his thumb dipped under the waistband of your shorts. The sound that you let out was soft and high-pitched, something between a gasp and a moan when his thumb met your clit.

“That’s cute,” he paused, “do that again for me ‘kay?”

He slotted one of his legs between yours before slipping one of his fingers into you. Your breath hitched in your throat and Steve smiled. It was all a haze, the feel of his skin against yours making you dizzy

“This okay?” He pushed another inside you, the slight stretch making you whimper as it toed the line between pain and pleasure.

“mhm,” He pumped his fingers into you lazily, your slick leaking on his hands and wrist. He had his fingers curled to hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Steve” you cried. His mouth fell open at your words, and he swore he’d died and gone to heaven. He quickened the pace of his fingers, and you clenched around him, becoming increasingly desperate for your release.

“God you have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this,” It was lewd really, the way Steve talked to you. The way you could feel his smile against your neck at every little sound you made. The way you could feel his hard cock twitch against your back. The knot in your tummy seemed to tighten as your walls did the same around his fingers.

“That’s it,” his voice was low, the words whispered against the column of your throat, “cum for me honey I know you can.” A mixture of whimpers and whines and his name tumbled past your lips as Steve coaxed you through your orgasm.

“You’re so pretty baby” he mumbled, “you think you can do that again?”

#ivy is writing !#ivy.nsfw #steve harrington (ivy’s version)#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington concepts #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stluvs

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inkluvs · 11 months

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old money!steve who's obsessed with spoiling you.

old money!steve who'll see you eyeing a piece of jewelry as you walk by a store and he's all, "let's go in baby," and he's got that smile on his face that he knows you can't say no to. you inevitably end up walking by the jewelry and you're trying to ignore it despite the fact that you want it because you felt bad that steve was always spoiling you. steve, however, stops in front of it and stares at the detailing in the jewelery. "pretty right?" he murmurs and you nod, "it'd look good on you." and you stare at him for a moment before saying, "you think so?" he nods and you already know what he's thinking. you suck your teeth before saying, "steve" "hm?" "baby you can't get this for me" "why not?" you hold your breath for a few seconds before replying, "i haven't done anything to deserve this," he looks at you, his brows puckered. "baby what do you mean?" "i mean," you pause to consider your answer, "steve you've already given me so much," his face falls at thought, "honey i like spoiling you" you smile and say, "yeah?" he nods, "if i could give you the world i would." the honey brown irises of his eyes are twinkling. "can i please get you this?"

for u @ghostlyfleur my love <3

#n e ways #fucking love old money steve #ivy is writing !#steve harrington (ivy’s version)#old money!steve #steve harrington au #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington concepts #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #stluvs

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inkluvs · 7 months

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New follower and I’m obsessed!

Mid-July

Mutual masturbation while camping in a tent

Steve Harrington

pretty

a/n: ur so fucking sweet i'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this </3 i hope u like it !!! tw: SMUT(18+) ; mutual masturbation ; kinda pervy steve? not sure (0.4k)

steve harrington x fem! reader

summer celly // masterlist // taglist

A soft grunt makes its way from Steve’s lips, his palm rubbing against the obvious bulge in his jeans. He twists and turns on his back as he tries to find a position that eases some of the tension, the hard ground underneath your shared tent doing nothing to help. A camping trip with you would be difficult, he knew that. What he didn’t know was exactly how short the shorts you would wear are. Though he did imagine(more times than he’d care to admit) he thinks his imagination can’t possibly perfectly capture the way the fabric hugs the curve of your ass, the soft fat warm as it presses against his own. After all, you wouldn't want him to run cold, right?

You stir at his noises and he freezes, thumb dancing along the button of the denim.

“You got pretty moans. Always thought you would but it’s nice to be sure.” Your eyes are still shut, your cheek pressed into your pillow so he can’t see your grin.

His cheeks flush pink. “Wh–”

“You really aren’t subtle, tossing and turning like that, almost thought you were havin’ a bad dream till I heard that noise.”

Steve can’t deny that his jeans seem to tighten at your words. His hand pushes underneath just barely, his breath hitching as he grazes his cock.

“You can take ‘em off if they’re bothering you, won’t bother me.” You curse yourself at how eager you sound.

Steve’s chest rises and falls more quickly after that, finally managing to pop open the button before saying, “You’re really okay with this?”

You nod and he slides his boxers down with the rough material, his cock thick and hard against his stomach. Steve can feel you staring at him and a fire lights under his skin. Your lips are parted, saliva pooling on your tongue as his hand wraps around his cock.

“Pretty.” Your voice is breathy and your fingers slip under the waistband of those damn shorts.

“You can take ‘em off if they’re bothering you.”

“Shut up.” He grins, cocky and wide and much too proud of himself.

You shove your shorts down and his grin falters into a gasp, his eyebrows pinched as he stares.

His palm starts to stroke his cock and you press your thumb against your clit, eliciting a soft whine.

“Pretty.” He repeats.

#ivy’s inbox 💌#event.midjuly #{ivy's summer celly}#ivy is writing !#steve harrington (ivy’s version)#stluvs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #stranger things imagine #ns/fw

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inkluvs · 8 months

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mid july - one muse riding the other while the tv plays in the background, movie forgotten entirely. With Eddie Munson

maybe inexperienced Eddie Munson, his and the reader's first time pleasee🤲

how many times

hehe ok i hope u like thisss i adore subby eddie <3 tw: SMUT ! (18+) sub!eddie munson ; p in v ;

eddie munson x fem!reader

summer celly // masterlist // taglist

The end credits of whatever film you’d chosen to watch that night are rolling as your hips move against Eddie’s, eliciting a strangled, throaty noise from his chest every so often.

“You like that hm?” You punctuate your statement by grazing your teeth against his neck.

He groans and you think you’re in heaven.

There’s a part of you that adores the fact that Eddie doesn’t have much experience, finding a twisted amount of pleasure in knowing you’re the first one to see him like this, his cheeks pink and his eyes glossy. You’re the first one to look down and see where he was sinking into you, the way it made him whine for more when he saw it too. You're the first one to hear the pretty noises too.

Eddie’s chest rises and falls rapidly, a telltale sign of his release nearing and you smile.

“How many times have you wrapped your hand around that fat cock to this thought huh? Be honest honey.”

He makes a noise of agreement, high and pretty in his throat.

“Words, Ed, I need words.”

“S-so many times, fuck—”

His cock twitches inside you and you still for just a moment, just long enough to whisper in his ear. “Your hand can’t get you off like I can, yeah? Your fuckin’ hand can’t make you feel like this.”

He agrees and spills into you with that, his cheeks rosy with the euphoria of his orgasm.

“Only you can.”

#ivy’s inbox 💌#anon <3 #event.midjuly #{ivy's summer celly}#ivy is writing !#eddie munson (ivy’s version)#stluvs #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #userroma #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #ns/fw

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inkluvs · 8 months

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sunburnt

cowboy!steve harrington x reader

content warnings: super fast paced ; fake dating ; they r exes ; uhhh forced proximity i think ; most likely inaccurate southern slang ; (2.0k)

summary: steve and you broke up a few years ago. but you live in a small town, and when you bump into him this time round, you’re told to go for it, or him, perhaps

a/n: ok this is v short just a baby one shot that i’ve been hoarding in my drafts for way too long <3 thank u for reading xoxo

masterlist / taglist

Steve’s nose is dusted pink, the freckled skin sunburnt from one too many times in the heat without protection. His lips are twisted into a smile. The kind that feels rare. The kind that has the same effect on you as a shooting star or an eclipse. You have to stop and stare for just a moment, turning the smile on his face from one of joy to the teasing kind.

The way you’re staring isn’t rude in any way, just more intense, full of the need to pull at the seams of his very being to figure out how he is who he is; To figure out how the same person, who’d been cooing at a puppy a moment ago, a furry tiny thing, can now be staring back at you with the same intensity, his mouth opening, and closing as he does so.

The leather hat on his head is a faded brown, clearly well-loved over the years. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, taking with it any hope that he’ll say something — anything.

It’s laughable really, the way that even after all these years you still find yourself staring. That you stayed there. In that fancy restaurant with the fizzy drink you ordered on your left-hand side and the boy, you’d just been staring at in front of you. He was younger, his hair darker and his skin lacking the freckles he’d gain in the years to come.

You stayed there.

In the way Steve put his hand on yours when the words left his lips. The same lips that’d kissed you so many times you’d lost count. The same lips that’d mouthed at the slope of your cheek every time you smiled because he thought it was endearing.

Your memory isn’t that great really, but somehow you’d managed to engrave every detail of that moment into your mind, down to how Steve’s voice had lifted at the end of each sentence. Like he was asking you a question rather than informing you of something. Like if you’d begged he would’ve listened.

You thought about it — about pleading with him to stay and asking him what went wrong, convincing yourself for a while that closure was what you needed. But it didn’t seem to matter now.

No amount of closure could truly satisfy you and time had taught you that. No amount of closure would prevent bumping into him at the grocery store or the way heat still blossomed in your chest when he looked at you. No amount, you’d decided, would fill the gap he’d left in his wake.

“You’re starin’,” the voice comes from beside you, a little boy whose face you only half recognize, “my Ma says it isn’t nice to stare.”

“Yeah?” he nods, “tell your Ma it’s only rude if they catch you.” The boy grins and turns around, no doubt running home to tell his mother what you had said. You imagine she’d laugh at that, shuddering and failing to hide a smile as she tells off the boy for believing such things. The boy would then nod in confusion. Perplexed as to the way his mother’s words and expression contradicted each other, and that would be the end of that. You assume so at least.

What you don’t expect, however, is the boy coming back a few minutes later, this time tapping the man you’d just been staring at on the shoulder. A part of you wants to call out, to stop the boy from saying something he doesn’t know the consequences of, but one small foreign part of you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing. The boy points at you and there’s that smile again splitting Steve’s cheeks, the kind that lights a fire underneath your skin, slowly melting you like wax from the inside out. Steve pushes his hand down quickly, checking to see if you’d noticed before turning back.

“Your Ma ever told you that pointing is rude?”

“She says it’s only rude if they catch you.” Laughter bubbles in your chest like water in a tea kettle and you try your best to suppress it, a huff of laughter making its way from your throat instead.

“Think this one already has,” Steve gently lifts the boy's hand with his index finger until he was pointing to you again, “Look.”

“Talk to her then.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, though to anyone else it might have been. The concept seems foreign to Steve – you haven’t been in his life for years now so why would he bother changing it now?

“What?”

“She was just starin’ at you, it only makes sense.”

“Guess it does,” he lets go of the hand in his, his eyes flitting from yours, now looking back at him, to the encouraging ones of the boy in front of him.

“You’re stalling,” he observes, “why are you stalling?’

“I am not stalling,”

“Why are you here,” Steve tilts his head, as if to say, fair point, before turning back to you. A shiver ripples through his spine, distributing all of his nervous energy to the tips of his fingers and toes.

One foot in front of the other, he decides. He stepped forward, his right foot now an inch closer to you, then his left, and before he knows it he was tapping on your shoulder.

“Long time,”

“Wonder why that is,” he almost smiled at that. After all these years, you’re the same. The same tendency to speak before thinking that he had adored at some point, the same crinkle in your nose he’d grown fond of years ago.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t go ‘round saying things you don’t mean”

“I do—“

“You don’t.” There is a sort of weary resignation in your voice, the kind that showcases the years you spent wondering what you’d done wrong. He isn’t sorry, and he would make the same decision over and over if he was given the same options today.

His lips part ever so slightly, heart-shaped and pink, “you see the boy over there,” his words topple on top of one another as he rushes to change the topic, “little shit pushed me in this direction, something about it only making sense.”

“Figured,” you pause, considering your next words, “did the same to me.”

“D’you think he’ll notice if we go our separate ways?”

“I think he’d grab us by our ears and push us together like dolls.”

“Doubt he’d be able to reach our ears.” He says, his voice lifting with a crack of humor.

You’re laughing now, a lovely sound he doesn’t realize he missed until he heard it. “Our ankles then.”

“So we're stuck?”

“Don’t act like this is the worst thing in the world,” you smile. “There were times when you’d pay to be near me.”

“Still would peach,” he murmurs. “S’just an observation.”

“An observation hm?” Steve nods. “What else is an observation?”

He ponders the question for a moment. “You haven’t changed at all, same attitude and tongue like a whip.” That he’d always adored, he wanted to add, but he didn’t, no point in telling you things he’d told you multiple times before. No point in reminding you of things he’d rather not think about.

“Yeah?” Steve hums in agreement, “And what gives you that impression?”

“The boy,” his voice is low, both rough and smooth in a way that made your skin burn, “when he pointed to you, I asked him if he’d ever been told by his Ma pointing is rude, y’know what he said?”

You do. “No.”

“He said ‘s only rude if they catch you,” his breath is warm against your neck and suddenly you realize he’s gotten closer to you, “and something tells me his Ma isn’t the one who taught him that.”

“Why would you think that?”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you mirror him, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. He swallows in a desperate attempt to stifle his laughter, failing a moment later. He’s right. You haven’t changed and you haven’t yet decided if you like that or not.

He looks at his wrist, as if to check his watch, only to find the skin bare, a slight tan line apparent from hours spent in the sun. His face falls.

“Lost your watch?” you inquire. Steve adores that watch more than anything, though you can never figure out why. You just assume it was a gift of some sort.

“Stolen,” he mutters.

Your lips form an ‘o’ shape for a moment before breaking eye contact, “‘s about to be dark anyways,”

“I’ll see ya later then? Tomorrow?” You can hear the grin in his voice. You can hear it in the way his voice twisted into a pretty breathy noise at the end of his question, hope tainting his tone.

“You askin’ me out Harrington?”

“Depends,” he tapped his chin and you bit your tongue to hold back any remark you’d later regret, instead taking his bait.

“On what?” You wouldn’t ever tell him but you had the incomprehensible urge to squeeze him then, when his grin got wider and his cheeks split with the force of it. To make sure that this moment has substance and it isn’t something you conjured up in your free time.

“D’you want me to?”

“Think the kid’s boutta answer for me,” his brows pucker, “So yes, for the boy.” You decide.

“For the boy.” He agrees.

“Till tomorrow then?”

“Till tomorrow.” He agrees. There’s a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you. Treat whatever it is that there still is between you like it doesn’t exist. Assume that every interaction from now on would be for the boy. No matter how much you enjoy it, it couldn’t possibly be because you want it. Ridiculous.

He follows through the next day, though you half didn’t expect him to, opening the door to find Steve all dressed up with lavender in a bouquet. You tell him you’re just finishing your hair—you hadn’t even started. Steve can tell, noticing the familiar frantic note in your voice.

“Take as long as you want, yeah? I’ll be right here.”

The sweet smell of flowers travels down the hallway and reaches the bathroom. Heat blossoms in your chest and rolls over your skin, filling you until your cheeks are full of warmth. You’re out about 30 minutes later, haphazardly pulling a confused Steve into the bathroom to help you pick a necklace.

“Honey, couldn't you have shown me this out there?” He whispers after pointing to a piece of jewelry.

“Didn’t think of that then,” you turn around and hand both ends of the chain to him before continuing.

“D’you get here okay?”

It’s a dumb question and you know it. He loves less than 10 minutes from you and he’s been to yours more times than you can count. But he indulges you.

“For the most part yeah, rode through a storm or two though.” You can feel a huff of his laughter against your neck as he fiddles with the clasp. Steve had never been good with chains and clasps smaller than his fingers, having grown accustomed to thick ropes and metal and leather reins.

“Oh?” Your lips quirk at the corners. “D’you dry off before you came in?”

“Of course, wouldn’t wanna get mud all on your floor now would I darlin’.” His tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips as he focuses, exhaling suddenly as he finally connects the clasps. “S’that it?”

Your thumb and index feel at the little chain links, searching for the clasp. “You know what?” You smile.

He mirrors it. “What?”

“I think you might’ve done it. Well done, Steve.”

“Did I?” He adjusts the necklace. “Maybe I did.”

“That’s what I like to call growth Harrington.”

“Yeah?” His voice is warm with affection. Positive reinforcement always did wonders for the boy.

You hum your approval, “Last time I asked you couldn’t even undo the latch when I handed it to you.”

“Last time you asked I was 17 and dumb.” His tone is flat like you’d struck a nerve. You aren’t exactly sure why—he’d brought your separation on himself.

“‘m not exactly sure being able to successfully put on a necklace is what measures intelligence.” He smiles, your attempt to lighten the air having been successful. One day you’ll tell him that you only ask him to help with your clasps because the fire it lit under the skin of your neck was an addictive one. No matter how much time apart you’d spent and how bad he is at it you couldn’t help but crave it. But today isn’t that day.

“Couldn’t tell the difference between a stallion and a mare.”

“Steve, I still can’t do that.”

“Shit like that is part of my job peach.” His voice drops to a dramatic whisper. “Though if you really need to know you could always look at the underside. ‘s pretty foolproof.”

A puff of laughter erupts from your throat. “Steve ‘m gonna ask you somethin’ and you gotta be honest.”

“Shoot.” He seems to know what you’re planning on asking him, warmth flushing his cheeks even before your lips part

“How many times have you done that?”

“Oh come on darlin’ now you’re just tryin’ to embarrass me.”

You smile and his cheeks flush with warmth

“You need humblin’ every so often, I'm just taking it into my own hands.”

“You want me to be honest?” You nod and his voice drops to a whisper, “A lot. More than you would believe.”

“Makes sense. You were always real good at limbo.”

He laughs at that. “You think I’m good at limbo all ‘cause of looking at a horse's underside?”

“You said it, not me.”

His heart is filled with sticky sweet adoration, the feeling running through his veins and under his skin. “I’ve missed you, peach.”

“You gonna take me out first or not Harrington?”

“How could I possibly forget with you lookin’ like that? You all dolled up just for me?” He tips his head forward, the brim of his hat eye level with you as he takes your hand in his.

You press your hand to your chest, a little dramatic but that’s the point. “Who else would I look like this for, hm?”

Steve grins, the kind that’s gorgeous and just a bit too cocky and you love it. He tugs you out the door with that, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side door before getting in himself.

“Say, the storm you rode through, which horse got stuck in it with you.”

“Think it’s the one you named, Cinnamon.”

“You went through with naming that poor horse, Cinnamon? Steven, it was a drunken suggestion.” He laughs, warm and low.

“Cinnamon doesn’t mind it, I’ll tell ya a secret though,” his voice lowers to a whisper, “I think Nutmeg despises her for it. The whole spice thing.”

“Stole Nutmeg’s thing hm?”

“‘s what she says.”

Your finger trails up the length of his arm, connecting freckles on tanned skin. “‘s romantic y’know, riding the horse I named to my house.”

“Of course it is, I came up with it.” You tilt your head and lift a brow. He laughs. “Not without your help of course.”

You hate how much you perk up when he says that. You hate how much you want yourself to hate him but you can’t bring yourself to, because no matter how many times you thought over the way Steve left you however many years ago, he still has you. And you still have him. And neither of you want to say it, but in this moment the boy that's brought you together couldn’t be further from your mind.

#ivy is writing !#steve harrington (ivy’s version)#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington concepts #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stluvs #cowboy!steve harrington #cowboy au #steve harrington au

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inkluvs · 8 months

Note

ribs — send me a sfw request (prompts here if u want)

[ TILT ] sender uses two fingers to lift receiver’s chin to look them in the eye w eddie munson 🪽

nice save

hehe ok i hope u like this babe ily!! tw: uhhh pre relationship? ig ; pet names ; not proofread at all <3 (0.3k)

eddie munson x reader

summer celly // masterlist // taglist

Eddie’s swaying on his feet with fatigue, exhaustion flooding his body as he lays in bed with you. His eyes are fluttering shut, dark brown lashes kissing the skin above his cheeks. His face pinches with a yawn, nose wrinkling and eyebrows puckered.

Your heart melts.

Eddie notices your expression and he lets out a huff of laughter. Heat rises to your cheeks and you look down, well, as much as you can with your face pressed into a pillow.

His index finger tucks itself under your chin, tilting it up slightly so you were looking at him. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“What?”

You and Eddie often have sleepovers, whether it be because you had had an argument with your parents or because Wayne was out of town when he was younger. Along with that you have moments like this every once in a while. Where your friendship with him tips into something more than just that, a friendship.

“You should sleep,” you reply, deflecting to the best of your ability. You weren’t great at it

“So should you, your eyes are shutting as we speak.” His voice is warm and sticky with affection.

“They are not.” You insist. He cheeks split with a grin at your tone, petulant like a child’s

“Tell me what, then.”

“You look tired.” You reply, correcting yourself a moment later when he pouts. “‘S cute I mean.”

Eddie’s lips part for a minute. You’re filled with the overwhelming urge to tell him to shut his mouth unless he wants to swallow a bug, but you decide he looks cute like this; Dazed and confused works for him.

“Nice save.”

“I mean it.” You promise.

“‘M just teasin’ babe. I know.”

You think you could get used to him calling you that.

#ivy’s inbox 💌#theo 💌#ivy is writing !#{ivy's summer celly}#event.ribs #eddie munson (ivy’s version)#stluvs #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #userroma

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inkluvs · 8 months

Note

ribs — send me a sfw request.

[ LAP ] sender pulls receiver into their lap.

steve harrington x shy!coquette!reader

eager much

babee this is was so fun to write i hope u like this <3 tw: making out, allusions to sex (0.2k)

steve harrington x fem! reader

summer celly // masterlist // taglist

Your legs are swung over Steve’s thighs, the coarse hair rubbing against your soft skin. You don’t mind it, really, the sensation toeing the line of pleasure and pain. His thumbs are rubbing circles into the fat, slipping underneath the hem of your pretty white dress. He adores the detailing on it, intricate lacing covering the dainty thing, reaching just underneath the curve of your ass. Heat rises to your skin wherever he touches it and he seems to take pride in knowing that. Sliding his palm up your leg just that inch more to see heat blossom in your chest.

His eyes flick back and forth from you, your eyes stuck to whatever book you’d had in your hand, and the screen. You weren’t really reading anything and he knew it. Your eyes had stopped taking over the pages as soon as his hands had first started moving up on the skin of your thighs. It continued like that for a few minutes, looking at each other when you assumed the other wasn’t, until he gave up on resisting.

“Alright, c’mere,” He grips the fat of your thighs, large palms pulling you towards him. His thumb skims under your dress, brushing over your hip bone as he presses his lips against yours.

You pull away to whisper, “Eager much?”

He groans, as if to say, obviously. Your chest swells with some amount of pride at the effect you had on him. Your big strong boyfriend melting in the palm of your hand because your skin had been touching his, and the fact that he could only resist for so long. Pulling you close to him in record time.

You wouldn’t change it for anything.

#ivy’s inbox 💌#harmo the fairy 💗#ivy is writing !#event.ribs #{ivy's summer celly}#stluvs #steve harrington (ivy’s version)#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x shy!reader #stranger things #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction

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inkluvs · 8 months

Note

ribs — send me a sfw request.

[ EMBRACE ] sender hugs receiver from behind.

steve harrington x shy!reader, maybe friends to lovers?

i've got others

ok harmo i lowk forgot the friends to lovers part </3 i hope u like this anyways though i had lots of fun writing this <3 tw: steve's an idiot and i love him ; not proofread ; (0.3k)

steve harrington x fem! reader

summer celly // masterlist // taglist

Steve’s arms, biceps wide and strong as they wrap around your torso, are freckled. Tanned hands splaying over your tummy as you run your hands under the sink for what must be the tenth time. You don’t mean to, you’d just gotten distracted by his unbridled affection and the warmth from his body seeping into yours.

“Steve,” His palms knead at the soft flesh. You can feel heat blossoming in your chest. “What’re you up to?”

He groans. Not out of any inconvenience or malice, more so that pulling his lips away from the already darkening bruise on your neck was the worst fate the universe had to offer—but he does.

“Can’t I love on you?” He huffs.

You think it’s adorable.

“While I’m in the bathroom?”

He pouts, the expression paired with a petulant whine; You give in.

You never admit it but you love it when he gets like this; when it seems like he could climb inside your skin and you still wouldn’t be close enough. Steve enjoys it too—though in a different way. He adores seeing your lips twitch as you hold back laughter. He loves having his palm roam up and down your sides as you giggle, a pretty noise, and turn around eventually, wet hands making his shirt damp. He’d let you drench any one of his shirts for the way you kiss him after. Soft and sweet and a little bit shy, a stark contrast to the way he’s been touching you. You held him like he’d break in the palm of your hand. Like if you gripped just a bit too hard the muscles in his torso would crumble.

He adores it.

“Your shirt.” You let go of the fabric, wringing your knuckles together as your eyebrows pucker in concern.

Steve wants to kiss it. “I’ve got others, haven't I?” He does.

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inkluvs · 7 months

Note

also!! for ribs!! what abt tug w stevie 🥺🥺🥺

call in sick

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long ily <3 (0.4k)

It’s cold, was your first thought, the air in your bedroom falling over the bare skin of your arms until you finally cracked open your eyes. Steve was next to you, the blanket covering his feet as sweat beaded along his forehead. It was a miracle really, how he always managed to run hot despite the temperature. It was convenient for you of course, your nose tucked into his chest as you shivered, but you always found it endearing.

Sunlight filtered in from the blinds, causing a little crinkle in Steve’s brow as it fell into his closed eyes. His soft snores gave way for grunts as he pressed his face into his pillow. He looks pretty like this, you thought. His eyes screwed shut and the hair on his freckles chest peeking over his t-shirt. Your thumb smooths over his jaw, connecting the marks.

You groaned in frustration after a few minutes, pressing yourself into the boy's arms before accepting it—you had to get up. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you slid out of the covers, a tremor running through your body.

“Shit,” You cursed, standing up quickly.

Steve’s thumb and index wrapped around the small point of your wrist, tugging you gently.

“Where are you goin’?” His voice was rough, remnants of sleep scattered throughout.

“‘ve gotta get up,” His lips grazed over the back of your hand, “work and such.”

“Call in sick?” His eyes were big and brown, tempting you as you think. He mouthed up your arm, pulling you onto the bed as he does. “I’ll take you out. How ‘bout that?”

“Steve,” You chastised him.

“What?”

“S’too much.” The crinkle in his brow returned and you smooth it over with your thumb, “You took me out last night.”

“We could stay in then, stay in bed all day?”

“S’nice,” you smiled.

#ivy’s inbox 💌#emma <3 #steve harrington (ivy’s version)#stluvs #steve thoughts #steve harrington #steve harrington request #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things

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inkluvs · 8 months

Note

Ribs - reader takes care of a sick eddie munson

-🍄

freezing

hehe ok this was super fun 2 write i hope u like this !! (0.2k)

eddie munson x reader

summer celly // masterlist // taglist

It’s unusually cold in the trailer, at least according to Eddie. Sure, it is winter but normally he didn’t feel the need to be weighed down by 5 blankets in front of a fireplace. He could be sick, of course, but he’s never sick. He refuses to believe it. It’s just cold today and that’s what he’ll go on believing, at least until you get him.

“Eddie,” you voice echoes into the bedroom, “‘s fucking hot in here. What's the temperature?”

He scoffs in disbelief. “Hot? It’s freezing.”

You shrug off your jacket, draping it over the couch before adjusting the dials on the thermostat/

“Eddie, it's 80 degrees.”

He sits up suddenly, “shit.”

You hum in agreement.

“I must’ve turned it up without checking.” He reasons.

Your socked feet shuffle into the bedroom, carpeted floor rubbing against the fabric. Pressing the back of your palm against his forehead, you nod slowly. “You’re warm.” He shakes his head as if he were dispersing anything you’re implying.

“You’re cold.”

“Eddie.” You scold.

“Baby.” He pouts.

“You’re warm as in, you have a fever.”

“I do not.” He insists, “I don’t get sick.”

A huff of laughter lodges itself in your chest. “Why not?”

“I haven’t been sick since grade school.”

“Poor boy,” You murmur, dragging your thumb over his cheek. “‘S about time then don’t you think?”

“I would’ve been perfectly fine with never getting sick.”

You nod solemnly, “I know, I know. Just take the cough medicine for now, yeah?”

#ivy’s inbox 💌#anon <3 #ivy is writing !#{ivy's summer celly}#event.ribs #eddie munson (ivy’s version)#stluvs #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #userroma

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inkluvs · 10 months

Text

fields of white clover

knight! steve harrington x fem!princess!reader

content warnings: time period discrepancies. cinderella reference kinda. royal au. steve is literally obsessed with you. hopper as a father figure. this is pretty much just world building.

summary: steve catches sight of you at a ceremony and finds you fascinating <3

a/n: posted 2 months or so ago originally (copy and pasting the original a/n bcos most of it still applies), i wanna thank @maddipoof for being my cheerleader n figuring out all of my incoherant thought with their super special decoder abilities <3 also @livingintheupsidedown ; @crappymixtape ; @ghostlyfleur ; @forevermoreharrington ; @theemporium ; and @beezywriting since they all read bits of it i was unsure about <3 also this is just the set up for future stuff and nothing really happens <3 it's just steeb being sorta head over heels for u <3

part one // series masterlist // taglist

You didn’t quite understand what you were doing with hundreds of nobles and servants around you. You knew what it was, of course, a ceremony; the kind you were required to be at to prepare you for your future, but you'd been spared any more details. It was funny, the way you’d been told that your presence was of the utmost importance this time in particular and still you had been given no details on why you had to be there, nor were you given details on why you couldn't sit in your regular seat.

You normally wouldn’t mind it, the extent to which you’d been kept in the dark, but it would be helpful to know why there were so many pairs of leering eyes, staring at you like they were waiting for you to mess up.

The majority of the time you had a choice. Whether or not you wanted to attend had always been an opportunity you'd chosen to take every time it had been offered. So much so that despite never having been taught about the process of swearing fealty in detail until you were fifteen, you’d been able to recite the oath at any given moment since the age of ten.

Using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight, you noticed a man a couple of meters from you doing the same. He was tall, his hair a honey blonde in the sunlight. Something about him made him look ethereal despite not being able to see the details of his face. The way the light was reflecting off the metal of his armor and towards you, the direction shifting ever so slightly when he turned his torso gave him a sort of glow. There was a dull ache in the back of Steve's eyes. The throbbing only increased as he squinted, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked around.

The way his curiosity seemed to heighten when he caught sight of you was similar to that of a child when they're told not to do something. It was the way he knew he shouldn't stare, that somebody would reprimand him later, but he couldn't help but think that there was something off about you. He didn’t know how he came to that conclusion, perhaps it was how out of place yet well-adjusted to your surroundings you seemed. It seemed like you’d done this before, so much so that you were bored.

Steve couldn't if your uninterest intrigued him or offended him, maybe it was both, the irritation leading him to find curiosity in your nonchalance. He also couldn't tell why his train of thought was leading him there, maybe he was just as uninterested and you'd been the first person to openly display it, or maybe he simply found you that captivating. Something about the way you presented yourself was inherently enchanting to him. Suddenly, Steve from his thoughts, the whistle of the wind was no longer the only thing he could hear as heat rose to his cheeks.

“Something catch your eye?” a familiar voice quipped. Steve shook his head quickly before shifting his attention to his surroundings, almost disoriented before he remembered where he was and what he’d been doing. He looked back to see who’d asked only to realize it was the face of a man he’d half recognized, not quite sure of his name. He turned back to you intending to only look for a second, but once again he ended up staring. The fact that you could so easily immerse him in you, the thoughts circling his mind of things unfamiliar and foreign to him, without even speaking to him was terrifying.

Somehow, Steve composed himself enough to notice the king’s attempt to gather everybody's attention. In a matter of minutes, everybody had quieted down, waiting for the king to speak as the wind bit at their skin.

The king took his stance next to you, standing tall above the crowd on the dais with the queen on his arm. He nodded once to the herald and looked across the crowd. The same routine as every ceremony.

“My beloved subjects,” but you were new, “I am honored by your service and fealty. There is no prouder king than I, standing before you.” A lady in waiting possibly, “Time and again you have shown your strength, honor, and allegiance to your king, your royal family, and your country. You have my endless gratitude.” No, you’re too beautiful for a lady in waiting.

“But I would be doing us all a great disservice if I did not extend my thanks to my daughter,” a duchess, maybe, “The princess.” The king’s words echoed in the pavilion as the crowd muttered with uncertainty. He held his hand out to you, and you stepped forward hesitantly.

She’s the princess.

“The relentless devotion she has shown to our country and our people is beyond words. There is no greater love than that of your princess to her kingdom. I am certain she will be a most beloved queen, and as that time draws nearer, as does her coronation. Your next pledge shall be not only to me as your king but to her as your crown princess as well. I know you will all do well to honor your allegiance to her as she shall to you.”

Everything seemed to come together in his mind at once, why you had looked so bored and why you struck him as different than anybody he’d ever met before. Now that he thought about it, you must’ve been to at least twenty of these ceremonies, each with a similar if not exactly the same speech and the same people. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve felt a stab of pity for you. He was only able to continuously attend such events since he had a choice, at least the majority of the time. And though he would never say it, out loud he still didn’t always enjoy every one he’d been to.

And suddenly he was moving forward. He’d found himself lost in thought yet again, unaware of the fact that he'd been moving till somebody behind him bumped into him. His boots suddenly felt tight against the sole of his feet, his legs stiff as he fought the urge to turn around and leave. He wouldn’t do it of course, but somehow the thought of getting closer to you made him jittery. He flexed his palm before squeezing it into a fist, repeating the motion until his muscles became less tense.

Steve couldn’t remember when he’d started this habit of sorts, just that it was now second nature to him, subconsciously flexing his hand and then squeezing it into a fist when he was trying to control himself or occasionally when he needed to focus. He was doing the latter now, still repeating the action as the leather heel of his boots sunk into the grass, the dirt muddy from rain the previous night. He stopped walking just as abruptly as he’d started, now a few inches from the dais.

Steve looked at you again, except this time he was close enough to notice the slight pucker in your brow. The sunlight was no longer obstructing his vision as he saw you instinctively straighten your back with the weight of thousands of leering eyes. The pucker in your brow seemed to ease as the crowd dispersed, your eyes raking over the crowd until they caught sight of him staring back at you. Your lips twitched as you considered how you should respond before you decided on simply smiling at him. Steve mirrored your expression, and he felt a sudden sense of relief surging through him at your lack of reaction. It took him a moment to realize you were motioning him to come closer, and another minute for him to work up the courage to do so.

You slowly lowered yourself off of the dais, praying that nobody was paying enough attention to you to notice before you landed on the ground. The grass crunched under your feet and you. Steve couldn’t tell how but you were more captivating up close. His eyes strayed to the curve of your lips, tracing the soft dip of your waist apparent in your kirtle.

And suddenly, in a whirlwind of motion, you were gone. Steve looked around for the deep maroon of your dress, turning around until he noticed a scrap of the fabric left behind on the dais. He looked to his left and then his right before carefully pulling the cloth from the nail it had gotten caught on. Looping it around his wrist once, he tied a knot, just tight enough that it wouldn’t slip off.

It wasn’t wrong, right? He intended to give it back to you, though he didn’t have the slightest clue when that was.

Steve’s back ached when he woke up. He didn’t know why, and he also didn’t know when he’d gotten back to his bed, but that was something to think about later. Instead, he was worrying about what he’d do with the shred of your dress, which was still on his wrist despite his tendency to move around in his sleep.

“Are you up yet?” a familiar voice pierced through the momentary veil of silence in the manor. He sat up, fiddling with the fabric in an unsuccessful attempt to undo the knot he’d tied the previous day. Hopper saw the deep maroon of the fabric before he could hide it and Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, waiting for his response.

“How did you get that?” he paused. Steve opened his mouth to reply but Hopper's eyes went wide as he cut the boy off, “Tell me you didn’t steal it.”

Steve shook his head almost instantly, appalled that the thought had even crossed the man's mind. Hopper seemed to deflate with relief.

“I found it,” he explained vaguely. Hopper held back a laugh at the boy's unclear clarification.

“Yeah?” Steve nodded, “who’s is it?”

And suddenly, over two decades' worth of barriers Steve had built around his vulnerability fell all at once. He looked at Hopper like a guilty little boy, like he’d accidentally dropped and shattered his mother's vase and he’d been caught near the scene. He looked at Hopper like he was scared of his potential response. The intensity of his gaze softened at the boy’s silence. He somehow seemed to understand Steve’s sensitivity regarding the subject.

“I found it on the edge of the dais,” he wasn’t technically lying.

“You still aren’t answering my question,” Hopper said quietly.

“You won’t be mad?” the man shook his head earnestly

“I found it at the ceremony yesterday,” Steve paused, thinking over his next words, “It’s from the princess’s dress, got torn on a screw”

Somehow, when the words finally started falling from his tongue, they wouldn’t stop or slow down, the sentences he strung together becoming more rushed and incoherent with each passing one, the words toppling on top of one another and slurring in his throat as he recalled what had happened the previous day.

“You should’ve seen her,” he trailed off, his eyes staring off into space as he smiled all fond. Hopper smiled at the boy’s lovesick demeanor, an odd sense of pride filling him with Steve’s vulnerability. It wasn't often that he opened up, so Hopper made sure to recognize it when he did.

“Are you going to give it back?” he prodded gently. Steve nodded.

“Next time I see her, yeah,” he replied, frowning as he did so. Steve hated the uncertainty of it all, the fact that he didn’t know when he’d see you next, or that he didn’t know what you wanted to say to him the previous day. He detested the spontaneity of it and the idea that he didn’t know the next time he’d bump into you, having been used to rigid rules and calculated decisions, yet Steve thought he could get used to it for you.

#ivy is writing !#steve harrington (ivy’s version)#stluvs #steve harrington #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington au #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #knight au #knight!steve harrington

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inkluvs · 10 months

Text

you've got a fever

a/n: hehe okay i think this was originally written for @pollenallergie ? posted a few months ago. tw: sickness ; cough medicine; him being boyfriend ; (0.5k ish)

eddie munson x fem!reader

masterlist // taglist

The shooting pain behind your eyes increases when your front door slams shut. Eddie’s voice calls out and you turn out to your stomach, your breath feverishly warm as you groan at the sudden penetration of the room's silence. You normally don’t mind how openly affectionate he is with you, in fact, you encourage it, but today even the sound of your air conditioning seems too loud. He calls out to you again, this time softer as he walks into your bedroom.

“Shit,” he curses, his tone hushed and colored with concern, as he kneels in front of you. He then presses the back of his hand against your forehead, the perspiration sticking to his hand as he remarks, “babe you’ve got a fever.”

A childish whine bubbles in the back of your throat along with the inexplicable urge to reply with a sarcastic remark. However, you control that urge, remembering that Eddie was only trying to help and it’s not his fault you were so irritable right now. Instead, you roll onto your side, facing Eddie and making him smile.

“There’s that face,” his words were fond and soft, “you wanna rest now or later?”

“Later, I think.” Eddie nods at your response before helping you sit up slowly. Your eyes screw shut as you fight off the nausea stirring in your stomach and he seems to notice, stopping his movements immediately. A mix of adoration and concern makes his eyes crinkle in the corner when you finally look back at him.

“Y’alright?”

You nod.

“I’m gonna get you cold medicine ‘kay? Stay right here.” You want to tell him that you couldn’t move if you tried, that your legs feel like jelly, but you decide to keep that to yourself; Eddie’s already concerned enough for you as is. He soon returns with your medicine, staring at the instructions for a few minutes before pouring it into the cap and handing it to you. Your nose crinkles at the strong smell of the cough syrup and you looked up at him.

“Eddie,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” he replied, honey dripping from his tone.

“Do I have to take this?” your bottom lip jutted out, staring at the cap between your fingers like a child would with their vegetables.

“D’you wanna be miserable all night?” You shake your head and press the cap to your lips, sniffling as you gulp down the medicine. You frown at the bitter aftertaste while giving Eddie the cap. He was quiet, staring at you while smiling like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. Of course, if you ask him he’d say you are. He’d say that even though your face was drained of color from the illness, he was waiting for you to finish your medicine so he could kiss you. And he did, pressing his lips against yours and not caring that he was able to taste the cough syrup on your tongue.

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