A Steve Harrington x Reader fanfiction | multi-chapter | popular!reader & popular!steve | slow burn | seasons 1–5 | strangers to… | +18 EVENTUAL SMUT
You are Hawkins High’s resident "Golden Girl"—beautiful, brilliant, and destined for medical school. While you never asked for the popularity that follows you, you carry it with a quiet, unshakable confidence, spending your time helping others and noticing the subtle truths everyone else ignores. You don’t hate Steve Harrington; you simply refuse to be another one of his distractions, giving him exactly the weight he deserves and nothing more. Behind your perfect exterior, you carry your own private struggles, but your focus remains on the future. Over the years, Steve finds himself constantly pulled back to you, forced to face the only person who sees through his act and challenges him to be the man he’s afraid to become.
⋆˚࿔ Season 1:
Chapter 1: The Vanishing Of Will Byers
Chapter 2: The Tutor
Chapter 3: A Better Taste In Nightmares
Chapter 4: Friends?
Chapter 5: Stand By Me
Chapter 6: Asshole
Chapter 7: The King Is Dead
Chapter 8: The Weight We Share
⋆˚࿔ Season 2:
Chapter 9: The Mess Behind The Curtain
Chapter 10: I Love You, Scarface
Chapter 11: Got Drunk On You
Chapter 12: We Can't Be Friends
Chapter 13: Bad Chem
Chapter 14: The Weight of You
Chapter 15: Half a Breath Away
Chapter 16: Close the Gate
Chapter 17: The Gate and the Glitter
Chapter 18: Gotta Go My Own Way
Summary: You’re Jim Hopper’s, Chief of Police, daughter. After a rough few years and a fresh start in Hawkins, your dad barely lets you out. Too scared to lose you. You’re homeschooled and the last time you stepped foot into a classroom was when you were 13. You somehow finally convince him to enroll you into Hawkins High but his worst nightmare comes true when you get involved with fighting Demogorgans, entering different dimensions, hiding a russian girl with super powers and more. Oh, and worst of all? You fall in love with a prick who has perfect hair.
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!hopper!reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, steve is in his king steve era for season 1, slowburn like slow slow SLOW burn, overprotective hopper, mentions of cancer, mentions of death, mentions of blood, smut, cuss words, maybe more idk?
CW: Angst, crying, fertility issues, begging, some religious stuff. Matt cries… a lot.
READER IS INFERTILE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS IS TOO HEAVY FOR YOU. VERY DESCRIPTIVE EMOTIONS.
Matt saw it – he felt it.
Your spark eroded with every negative pregnancy test. It was like a disease that seemed to chew on your soul, leaving a lifeless look of emptiness in its ruin.
There’s a void of emotion where the twinkle in your eyes used to be. Everything seems more dull with each failure.
The two of you had been trying for so long. You tried every pill, every diet, and every remedy you came across online. None of it worked. You knew it wouldn’t, the doctors said as much.
But for some reason, you still had enough hope to try.
Part of you still clutched onto the idea of a miracle, but your grip on that was loosening – not from a lack of desire, but a lack of strength.
You couldn’t keep holding onto something that seemed to crush you over and over again. It seemed holding on might be more painful than finally letting go.
And tonight, Matt heard the difference in the silence. He saw the shift in your eyes, the way you oozed utter exhaustion.
“Hey.”
You don’t even blink at his voice. Your eyes are trained on the floor, your back slouched as you sit on the edge of the shared bed. Tears should be falling, but they’re not. You’re too tired for tears.
Matt sits on the bed next to you. Your body shifts with the added weight. You don’t bother trying to hold yourself up. Instead, you allow your body to lean onto his, your chest burning with an uncomfortable tightness.
“Baby, what’s going on? Tell me what’s running through your head,” he says.
It’s like he’s talking to a void.
His hand reaches onto your knee after a couple of moments of silence, his palm capturing the bone gently and giving a comforting pat. But it doesn’t make this any less real – the fact that you’ve finally given up and lost any hope.
“I’m done, Matt. I… I can’t.. I can’t do it anymore.” Your voice is scarily monotone. “I can’t keep hope for something that will only crush me in the end. The sooner I just accept this, the less disappointment I’ll have to feel. I’m just… I give up.”
All of the words are so heavy, but the last three seem to bring the most impact.
The air lingers with a bitter taste of defeat. Matt feels his bones rattle in his body, his skin stretching as he forms a fist before letting go. Sharp crescent stings from his nails digging into his palm are like a cold splash of water. He’s awake; this isn’t some bad dream. It’s real – too real.
“Baby, we can keep trying, we just can’t lose hope.”
“I don’t have any more hope left. I feel so drained, Matt, you don’t understand,” you whisper, your tone becoming so soft he’s scared to breathe too hard and mishear you.
He can’t take it. Claws are ripping at his chest, urging him to pull you closer. So he does. He brings you into his lap, cradling you in his arms as he sees hot streaks of disappointment leak from the corners of your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you cry, the crack in your voice making his heart clench painfully in his chest. “I’m sorry I can’t give us a family. I… I’m so sorry that I… I’m so broken.”
The emotional pain that vibrates through his entire body is like nothing else he’s ever felt before. Matt swears he tastes blood, like something from the inside of him isn’t able to bear the vicious pulse of merciless emotions.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos. Your ears ring from the noticeable shakiness in his words, his tears apparent without requiring you to even open your eyes. “You’re not broken. You’re not… you’re not anything less than a person I love wholeheartedly.”
You squeeze your eyes tighter, refusing to look at him. You can’t. Not when you say the words that scratch at something so raw and sore within you.
“You… you should find some–someone else. Someone who can… who can give you a family, not… not someone like–”
“No,” he interrupts, gentle yet firm. “Don’t. Don’t ever say that. A family means nothing to me if it’s not with you.”
Guilt swarms into your throat, a lump of bile gathering. You’ve trapped this man – a man so purely devoted to you, it’s poetic. He deserves so much, yet he will never get the family of his dreams.
And it’s all your fault.
You choke while sucking in a shaky breath. “Matt. I can’t do this. Not if I know you’d eventually be–” You can’t hide the pain in your face. “You’d eventually be happier with… with someone else.”
Both you and Matt sit in the silence of exhaustion. You fall completely limp in his arms, but he clutches on tighter, stiff like he’s frozen. There’s a slight quiver in his hold.
“I don’t want someone else. Baby, I know this is hard, but… I… I can’t lose you.”
He leans until his forehead is pressed against yours. You finally blink open your eyes, staring into his as he furiously blinks tears onto your own cheeks, a mixture of sadness running through your hair like rain.
It’s grounding. The wetness makes you feel aware despite the drowsiness of your spirit. He has the spark in his eyes, not the one of joy, but the one that tells you this is real, this is deep.
Love doesn’t fade; it changes. And he’s found it with you through every maze, even this one – the one filled with shame, exhaustion, and hopelessness.
“I just… I feel like such a failure, Matt. I’m letting myself down, and I’m letting you down,” you breathe.
He immediately grabs one of your hands in his own, kissing the back of your palm. His tears drift down your wrist, a never-ending flood of emotion making his stamina give out as he tries to breathe steadily.
“You’re not… not letting me down, baby. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. So much it hurts,” he explains. “You haven’t failed me. I… I’m only disappointed with how harsh you’re being on yourself – the girl I love. This is hard. It’s cruel, undeserving, and fucking relentless. But… please, stop being so… so mean to the girl I love. Please.”
It’s not a request.
It’s a plea.
The way the words leave his mouth sounds like a prayer, like he’s talking to any god or higher spirit that will listen. He’s never been very religious, but he’s never felt this desperate, this hopeless.
“I don’t know how,” you admit.
You swear you hear him shatter as he lets out a sharp cry.
He tugs you closer into his chest. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or not, but he starts rocking you in his lap. Almost as if his heart has been hurt in a way he’s not sure how to cope with.
“Please, please – we can work on it together. Please. I… I… oh my god, I can’t lose you, please,” he sobs.
His shoulders shake as he hugs you in his lap with a death grip. You’re limp in his hold, letting your forehead fall against his collarbone while letting the tears run freely.
You try to pull back to look him in the eyes, but he clutches you closer. Repeating the action, you’re met with the same result.
“Just let me have this,” he rasps, “Let me have you.”
There’s a clear double-meaning to his statement, one that makes your lashes feel undeniably heavy. You melt in his hold, hugging him back to the best of your ability with his unrelenting hold.
“Please don’t take our future away.”
.
.
.
NAV.
Paige's Notes: Thank you to everyone who motivated me to post this. I want to feel more understood & less alone. I hope this does so for others as well ❤️
Special thank you to @devotedlyteenagemusic & @mattsmirrorpics — I love you both so much 🥹
Interaction through comments, reblogs, and my inbox is appreciated.
Hii! I really love the way you write for Mattheo, so I had a lil request for him <3
Mattheo x reader when she draws him, and instead of making him look really scary and mean like most people would, she actually makes him look really peaceful and sweet? I'm really curious about how he'd react to that!
Summary: Everyone else sees Mattheo Riddle as dangerous—sharp edges, dark eyes, and a temper to match. But when you sketch him, you capture something no one else does. Instead of menace, there’s peace. Instead of fury, there’s softness. And when he sees it… he doesn’t know how to react to being seen like that.
————————————————————————
It starts the way most things with Mattheo do, quietly, almost carelessly.
He’s sitting beside you in the courtyard, idly tossing pebbles into the fountain while pretending not to be bored out of his mind. You’re half listening to his muttered commentary about how stupid Charms homework is, your quill moving across your sketchbook without much thought.
He glances over after a few minutes, voice low and teasing.
“Drawing again, sweetheart? Let me guess—another masterpiece of flowers and fluffy clouds?”
You hum softly, not looking up. “Something like that.”
He smirks, clearly expecting you to roll your eyes or banter back. But you don’t. You’re too focused, pencil moving with that quiet kind of concentration he’s seen only a few times—like when you’re reading, or when you’re laughing at something you shouldn’t be.
When you finally look up, you find him already watching you. His hair falls in messy waves over his forehead, a faint bruise still lingering on his jaw from last week’s fight with whoever decided to insult Theo. His tie’s loose, his sleeves rolled up, and he looks like the kind of boy parents warn their children about.
Except you don’t see that. Not really.
You see the boy who makes sure his friends get back to the dorm safely. The one who flinches when someone slams a door too hard. The one who, when he laughs—really laughs—looks like he’s forgotten the weight of his father’s shadow for just a moment.
That’s the version you draw.
By the time you finish, the sun has started to dip behind the castle towers, painting everything gold. You close your sketchbook with a quiet sigh, and before you can slip it into your bag, Mattheo’s voice cuts in—lazy, curious.
“Let me see.”
You hesitate. “It’s not done.”
“Didn’t ask if it was,” he says, reaching for it. His fingers brush yours—warm, rough, confident in that way that still manages to make your heart skip. You let him take it.
There’s a silence then, heavier than before. The kind that feels fragile.
Mattheo doesn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes scan the page—his face, but softer. No scowl. No smirk. His shoulders are relaxed, his gaze distant. Peaceful. You’ve captured him in a way that makes him look like he belongs somewhere safe.
“…This isn’t me,” he finally mutters.
You tilt your head. “Sure it is.”
He shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the drawing. “You made me look—” He stops, searching for the word, and it comes out quieter than you expect. “Kind.”
Your chest tightens a little. “That’s how I see you.”
His brow furrows, and for once, there’s no sharpness in it—just confusion. A quiet kind of disbelief. “You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
He laughs under his breath, but it’s not the usual one—the one full of charm and challenge. This one’s smaller, unsure. “Because no one else does.”
You lean in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe that’s their problem.”
He looks up then, really looks at you. The teasing is gone. The mask, the bravado—it all slips away for just a second. You see something raw flicker in his eyes, like he’s not sure whether to be angry or grateful or terrified.
Mattheo Riddle has been drawn before—by rumor, by reputation, by fear. But no one’s ever drawn him like this. No one’s ever made him look like he could be gentle.
He hands the sketchbook back slowly, thumb brushing over the corner of the page before he lets go. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
You blink, startled. “Me?”
He smirks, but it’s soft now. “Yeah. You make people forget who they’re supposed to be.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then he stands, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Keep it,” he says quietly. “Just… don’t show anyone, alright?”
You nod, heart still pounding. “I won’t.”
He hesitates—just a second too long. Then, in a voice that barely makes it past the courtyard noise, he adds, “Thanks… for seeing me like that.”
And then he’s gone, walking away with that same careless swagger he always has. But when you glance down at your sketch again, you notice something new—the faintest smile tugging at the corners of the boy you drew.
OMGGG you might just be my favorite person I’ve ever discovered. Can I please also get JJ kissing her like she’s the only thing that makes sense? I love you and all your glorious works.
Yesss Ofcc! Thank you so muchh💗
He kisses you like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense.
The slam of the door echoed through the house, rattling the picture frames. JJ’s voice had been sharp, too sharp, and yours hadn’t been any softer. Words thrown like daggers lingered in the air, cutting deeper than either of you had meant them to.
You sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your hands, trying to steady your breathing. Tears blurred your vision, hot and heavy, the kind you hated letting anyone see. The silence that followed only made it worse, like JJ’s absence was louder than the fight itself.
Minutes passed before the creak of the floorboards gave him away. JJ lingered in the doorway, hair a mess from raking his fingers through it a hundred times. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he was still wound up, but his eyes—God, his stunning blue eyes looked wrecked when they found yours.
“Don’t cry,” he said, voice low, almost pleading. His own throat sounded tight, the edge gone from his tone. “I hate it when you cry.”
You swiped at your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, shaking your head. “Then stop giving me reasons to.” The words cracked on their way out, softer than intended.
That broke him. JJ crossed the room in two steps, kneeling in front of you, his hands hovering like he was afraid to touch, afraid you’d pull away. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, desperation threading every word. “I didn’t mean any of it. I was just pissed and stupid and… I can’t stand it when I screw things up with you.”
For a moment, all you could do was look at him. The boy who carried storms inside him, who burned too hot, who never quite knew how to stop spinning until he crashed. And right now, he was crashing into you.
Your hand trembled as you reached for his cheek. He leaned into the touch instantly, eyes fluttering shut, a breath of relief escaping him. “JJ, I…” you whispered, but the rest of your thought got lost in the lump in your throat.
That was all the permission he needed.
He surged forward, capturing your lips with his, the kiss messy and wet at first from your tears, frantic from his fear. But then it shifted, softened, like the storm was finally breaking. His mouth moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, an urgency that told you he’d never forgive himself if he let you go.
He kissed you like it was the only thing that had ever made sense.
You gasped against him, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you off the bed and into his lap, holding you like he was terrified you might vanish if he let go.
By the time you broke apart, foreheads pressed together, both of you were breathless, but lighter somehow. JJ’s thumb brushed the dampness from your cheek, his lips curling into the smallest smile.
“You’re it for me,” he murmured, voice steady now. “No fights, no stupid words—none of that changes it. You’re it.”
You felt the corner of your own mouth lift, the heaviness finally giving way to something softer. “You’re such an idiot,” you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw.
He laughed quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest where you leaned. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”
The two of you sat there tangled together, the weight of the fight fading, replaced by quiet laughter and soft kisses. And for the first time that night, everything felt like it might be okay again.
ⓘ reader discretion is advised: certain kinks may be triggering to some people so please beware. if the fic has a tag at the top that reads "dead dove: do not eat." be sure to read the warnings carefully before proceeding into it because it will include things most people don’t fuck with. i don’t want to trigger anyone so please read the warnings of every individual fic and maybe skip it if it isn’t your cup of tea.
isa’s notes ۶ৎ i present to you thirteen kinky fics this october. i already post kinky shit anyway so i thought why not make it a little more extreme? nah they ain’t that extreme lol, and if i really went down that rabbit hole i would probably get cancelled. also, i can’t promise i’ll post every fic on time but i will try my best! i hope we can all enjoy this october with some treats—or tricks if you’re kinky enough.
ⓘ comment if you want to be added to my kinktober taglist.
PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.
CONTENT rafe cameron x reader au, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, grief, hallucinations, intense survival situations, just the hunger games sobs
main masterlist | tag list | post-games idea | edit
prologue — “rafe cameron and y/n y/l/n, this year’s tributes for district two!”
reaping ceremony; district two is coming. and it’s already soaked in red.
chapter one — “i don’t plan to die.”
the train ride to the capitol; the parade; rafe and reader step into the arena of public eyes, and they already know it’s all a game.
chapter two — “if anyone was gonna die, might as well be me. someone who at least knows what they’re walking into.”
the night after the parade; reader and rafe find each other on the balcony.
chapter three — “rise and shine, sweetheart.”
the first day of training; reader and rafe show each other what they’ve got. sneak peak to district fours tributes.
chapter four — “y/n y/l/n, with a score of . . .”
the rest of training week; the private sessions loom, and every tribute sharpens themselves into weapons, including y/n.
chapter five — “i don’t think he ever really saw me. just some idea of who he wanted me to be.”
caesar’s interview, the world watching; on the final night before the arena, rafe and reader tear down their last walls and find something almost human in each other.
chapter six — “win.”
the bloodbath; steel, blood, and desperate survival, reader and rafe fight their way out, but not everyone makes it.
the birch forest is not all what it seems. an ambush shakes the group; kie’s injured.
chapter eight — “you think it’s a trap?” “everything’s a trap.”
the group finds some new solid ground to camp on; y/n finds the roses. y/n and topper come across their first mutt of the arena.
chapter nine — “just you ‘n me for right now, huh?”
rafe and reader are alone; reader finds out about the rose thorns toxins. they share a moment before their first sponsor gift comes.
chapter ten — “you’ve got that hero edit shit going for you.”
rafe and reader reunite with kie and jj again, but it doesn’t last long.
chapter eleven — “i’m not dying for their cameras.”
the gamemakers open up a feast at dawn; devastated with the loss of kie, jj makes a sacrifice.
chapter twelve — “do you trust me?”
the final fights; glory, victory. rafe and reader make a decision that puts them down in history.
part thirteen — “make it worth it.”
reader wakes up from weeks of being in a coma; enobaria gives y/n a talk. y/n sees rafe for the first time in weeks and someone she never expected to see so soon.
part fourteen — “i don’t wanna be alone tonight.”
collection of imagines: rafe and reader move into victors village. y/n’s mom visits. snow proposes that rafe and y/n move into the same house together. reader has a nightmare.
part fifteen — “she’s good. the kind of good that makes you want to be better. even when you’re sure you can’t be.”
caesar’s interview with panem’s new victors; rafe and reader get closer.
part sixteen — “you’re owned, my dear.”
the victory tour commences; rafe and reader join together in the capitol for a victory ball to wrap up the tour. y/n finds something shocking about her victory.
part seventeen — “snow’s gonna kill me.”
collection: aftermath of reader refusing being sold. reader finds out rafe has to take her place, but while out one night, rafe comes back home to reveal he finally broke.
part eighteen — “we’re in the same boat now. might as well get used to each other.”
rafe and reader meet 18-year-old finnick odair the following year. headcanons and ideas of their dynamics and how post-quell plays out.
part nineteen — “i wanna be more than that.”
rafe confesses his love to reader who’s avoidant; reader lets rafe touch their back for the first time since the implants.
part twenty — “may we meet again.”
the 74th hunger games commences. rafe and reader must mentor cato and clove; y/n is devastated to find the victors are falling into the same footsteps as her and rafe.
chapter twenty-one — “even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol.”
catchup of post-74th; president snow announces the quarter quell three months before the reaping.
chapter twenty-two — “i volunteer as tribute.”
enobaria has to decide whether to stand for or stand down when it comes to who will be reaped into the games; rafe volunteers.
chapter twenty-three — “you’re different than i thought you’d be.”
haymitch finds you and rafe on the train ride to the capitol about the rebel plan; you meet katniss before the tribute parade that night.
chapter twenty-four — “anyone can swing an axe, but not everyone knows how to make one from twigs and wire.”
day one of training; you spar with johanna. everyone gets to see katniss work her magic up-close.
chapter twenty-five — “if it means she gets out of this alive, i’ll let her charm every last person in this damn place.”
days two and three of training; you find a new ally in peeta mellark.
chapter twenty-six — “she’s the only thing left i believe in anymore.”
rafe and reader help to try to take down the quarter quell at caesar flickerman’s interviews; they spend time together for the rest of the night.
chapter twenty-seven — “i promise you that the next time you see me, the world is gonna be different.”
the quarter quell has begun.
chapter twenty-eight — “haymitch isn’t here.”
following the events of the bloodbath, rafe and reader are separated.
chapter twenty-nine — “if you’re not gonna sleep, i will.”
katniss receives a sponsor from haymitch; the group slowly builds trust. peeta and reader bond before falling asleep.
chapter thirty — “i got them out for you!”
reader and the others run from the arena’s poison fog. rafe and reader are reunited because author got impatient!!
