Masterlist
Last updated: 22.11.22
Special Stories, like smut or anything else, will be marked as such.
“Ahoy ladies! Didn’t see you there. Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain. I’m Steve Harrington.”
JOE KEERY as STEVE HARRINGTON • STRANGER THINGS SEASON 3
Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) - 1.01 • “New World Order”
buckley-robin
#My fav platonic soulmates <3
Did I ever tell you, I’ve got a thing for brunettes?
FLYNN RIDER - STEVE HARRINGTON
I finally thought of a request! You may have done something like it and if you have, feel free to ignore me.
Shy!reader that silently crushes on Eddie. Then she works up little by little. Eye contact. Smiling at him in the hall. Then maybe a wave. Until finally she asks him to hand out.
He could be like “haaaa. Hilarious. Go away.” Until he realizes he screwed up royally and has to fix it.
Or he accepts and it’s a cute fluffy piece.
You decide, friend!!
AN | It’s a little salty and a whole lot of sweet! I hope you enjoy 🥰
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.2k
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“You should just ask him out.”
A groan escaped your lips before you could even try to prevent it. You leaned against the counter you’d just cleaned and banged your head against the wall, “I’d rather die.”
“That might be a little dramatic,” Elly grinned as she continued to dry the freshly washed coffee mugs. You smacked her with the tea towel from over your shoulder as you shook your head, “why not? He’s in here all the time and you’re always staring at him all heart-eyed.”
That's so sweet. The trauma this poor boy holds and lashes out... But he is man enough to see that he is wrong. That's nice.
JOE KEERY as STEVE HARRINGTON STRANGER THINGS — Season 4, Episode 6
i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.
Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any video he wants.
Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Word count: 8.8k
Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.
A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!
divider by firefly-graphics
August 1981
"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."
You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing.
"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."
He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard.
"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."
"I'll help you with your work," you say.
Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted.
"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."
Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it.
The feels, the flashbacks, the angst and the resolution. All was so sweet. ❤️
i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.
Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any video he wants.
Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Word count: 8.8k
Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.
A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!
divider by firefly-graphics
August 1981
"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."
You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing.
"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."
He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard.
"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."
"I'll help you with your work," you say.
Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted.
"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."
Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it.
The feels, the flashbacks, the angst and the resolution. All was so sweet. ❤️
joe keery making everyone foam at the mouth by simply pushing the hair out of his face (the power he has over me…IM WEAK)
gif credits to: @pixiekeery (gif 2), @wrestless-waves (gif 3), @stevexharringtonx (gif 7 and 9), @eddielove (gif 6), @gothsugarwhore (gif 1), @charlie-hunnam (gif 5)
is your comfort character also a sad pretty boy with trauma and questionable morals or are you normal
Oh gosh I don’t wanna repeat someone and I’m not sure about Xmas traditions but what about ridiculous stocking stuffers w Eddie? Fluff/humor.
oh, god. this one also got out of hand. started in light-hearted fun and ended in fluff that had me screaming into my pillow. i'm sorry for the length.
good for one kiss (eddie munson x reader)
warnings: none really. mentions of penis??? (eddie makes a joke about his dick and there's mention of a blowjob but no description lol), mentions of cigarettes, idiots in love. best friends to lovers.
“What am I supposed to do with a single piece of gum?”
“What am I supposed to do with a single cigarette?”
“Smoke it, idiot.”
“It’s broken, idiot.”
“Oh.”
You and Eddie sit cross-legged across from each other on his bed on Christmas Eve, partaking in your annual gift exchange. But there was a catch; each year, you exchanged stockings, only gifting each other what you could fit in the glorified, fleece-lined socks. There had only been two exceptions to the rule of the years - the year you’d gifted Eddie his first professional-grade amp and he’d bawled like a baby (once he’d dried his tears, he’d threatened you and Wayne both endlessly about ever letting the story leave the room. The two of you had exchanged a look, though, knowing neither of you would ever let him live it down.) and the year Eddie had bought you your first acoustic six-string with the promise of lessons from him (it was onyx black and shined with promise as Eddie explained the two of you needed to use paint markers to decorate it).
Oh, the softness of it all. ❤️
not if it’s you.
word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]
You’re bone-deep tired.
The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.
It’s been a hell of a night.
You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.
It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.
The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.
Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.
Urgh... That hit right where it hurts. I won't lie and say that I shed some tears while reading. Especially when he asked how he deserved it.
Reminds me why he is my comfort character and I'm so mad they glanced over his deeply rooted trauma from it all.
Thank you so much for writing and sharing this. ❤️
She Drives Me Crazy
STEVE’S SUMMER CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO BABY BLURBS
I Want You To Want Me
EDDIE’S SUMMER
COMING 2023
Oh my gosh!!! The Camp Steve AU is amazing. So much tension and pining. 😍
Really well written. Thank you so much. 💕 So excited to see more.
As it Goes
AN | No one, absolutely no one, asked for this but my mind said yes. So here we are here - a collection of moments, or rather, how you met and fell in love with Spider-Man 🥰❤️
Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Language
Word Count | 4.2k
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
It was a quiet winter evening in New York City. As quiet as it came among the traffic, sirens, and people anyway. You should have been inside, but you couldn’t find yourself able to stay in your apartment, opting instead to get some fresh air on the rooftop. You’d brought along a book, blanket, and some snacks before making your way up to the little hideaway you and a few neighbors had created.
After you’d turned on the fairy lights and settled down, you opened your book and made it through approximately one chapter before you were interrupted; interrupted being put lightly. Out of nowhere, you heard a loud scream, followed by some sort of crash, accompanied by a few loud groans and moans. Your book had flown out of your hand at the sudden intrusion, but it quickly became the last thing on your mind as you jumped up and went to see what had happened.
The last thing you’d ever expected to see was suddenly laid out in front of you. There he was, your friendly neighborhood spiderman, lying on the rooftop of your building, clutching his side as he tried to catch his breath.
That was so sweet. The understanding and the patience really was worth the payoff for both of them. 💕
When you learned your mother was a goddess, things finally seemed to fall into place. The other demigods laughed at you, the only child born to the goddess of the hearth, Hestia. But your power was so much more than they could dream of.
Being born to a goddess was something I never imagined to have happened to me, and really, least of all to a goddess of virginity, so really, Hestia as a mother? I didn’t believe that.
But dad told me he had been at the oven with papa and they had stoked the fire, they poured wine and sacrifices bread and oil and meats to the flame, and begged the goddess to let them have family together to gather in this home, a family to gather around a hearth and to love.
And listen to their prayers she did, sculpting me from embers and ash and blowing life into me with a spark from her flames, kissing my forehead once before she left, leaving me forever with her mark on my face.
That’s what dad told me, and now it all makes much more sense.
I never ran out of s'more stuff, ya know? Even if I had definitely just used up my last chocolate for a cake, there’d be a new perfectly preserved package of it in my cupboard. Marshmallows empty cause of my hot chocolate? No silly, there is still some left in the box somehow.
I also play the guitar, at the campfires I always played and lead the chorus, but never do my fingers turn to blisters, and I never need to rest my voice.
It also explains why I have always been at home anywhere and with anyone, I could sit down, and I was home where I was and the people with me would be my family.
Other demigods mocked me, I am the child of the goddess of the home, of the hearth, a cooking deity they’d call her.
It was…rude, but it was fine, I could deal with it. I didn’t have a cabin full of siblings, but whoever stopped by was family, right?
And it was totally fine to leave me behind when they went into battle, I am no good with weaponry, but I could still follow them, grab some food for them, they’d be hungry after all the fighting.
And they seemed almost concerned when I ran onto the battlefield barefooted and in my hoodie and sweatpants and apron, rushing towards a dragon and a son of Thanatos.
Their screams were scared when the useless child of a goddess ran onto the battlefield, and this boy actually tried to hold me back, even if his arms were shattered and his skin was scorched.
They were shocked when the battle ended with me.
They would’ve known I can’t get burned from all the times I’d stumbled into the campfire or spilled tea.
They should’ve known I can make anyone and anything calm down quickly enough.
They should’ve known I can protect anyone behind me by raising my hand.
A hearth does not burn, it warms and nutures. A family calms and cares, not aggravates. A home does not abandon, it protects.
I am the son of Hestia, and my mother gave me the ability to be a hearth anywhere I went. It is safe with me, for anyone.
I ended wars before, this one was no different.
Beautiful
steve harrington outfit rankings (as voted by my followers) ↴
2. “Pretty Damn Good Babysitter Blue Shirt & Jeans + Members Only Jacket” Season 2 - 289 votes
“Sometimes,” Gareth drawls. He’s sitting behind his kit, twirling a drumstick in his fingers, thoughtful. “Sometimes I think this town really is cursed.” “Dude.” Jeff warns. “Let me finish. I think this town is cursed, and Eddie’s a part of it—” “Dude!” “Let me finish! Town’s cursed, Eddie’s involved, but he’s not the source. He’s a victim.”
Jeff and Francis exchange a look. ”And the true source.” He rises, getting on a roll. “The true source is hiding in plain sight, something—”
He cuts his eyes at them. “—or someone no one would expect. The true source…” He whirls his drumstick with a dramatic flourish then snaps his arm to its full extension and points outward, into the wild blue yonder that is the world beyond his parents’ garage. “…is Him.”
Him, being: Steve Harrington, parked at the end of the driveway. Steve Harrington, opening the passenger side door of his rich boy Beemer. Steve Harrington, who drove Eddie to band practice. Who’s shouldering Eddie’s gig bag. Who’s helping Eddie out of the car.
Jeff and Francis watch for a moment in silence, then turn back to Gareth in sync.
”An interesting theory.” ”Elaborate.”