#so pretty

[world-of-celebrities]

Rachel Hunter

[norafae]

In the morning sun

[emir-kctrk]

Sevgi diyorum bazen. ne naif bir duygudur kalben ikram edilince..

[katrasining]

He's actually so unbearably cute I love him so much I wanna squeeze him

[xpeachsunsidex]

hiii a request for Harrington household!

idk if this has been requested already but:

one of the older kids (boy ot girl), one of their friends hits on reader? or maybe a dad from daycare or something!

wanna see if Steve would agree and then get angry that the friend/man is flirting with his wife

write it however you like! and how you think Steve (and kids maybe) would react!

Summary: Steve knows you’re gorgeous, but it doesn’t stop him from being all pouty when other men (and one bold teenager) who aren’t him flirt with you.

WC: 4.7k

Warnings & What to Expect: hargrove!fem!reader, jealous & possessive Steve (in a healthy way), men/ teenager flirting with reader (which reader pointedly ignores), protective husband trope, kids teasing Steve for being down bad for reader.

Harrington Household Masterlist

currently writing this series based on requests, so if you have any ideas - please feel free to send them my way 🫶🏻

Main Masterlist If Interested

Peach’s Note: hiii anon!! what a fun request!! i included that, but also added in some other flirting scenarios. also kind of added part of this request. hope you enjoy lovie 🩷

tysm to everyone showing love on my works - it means the world. requests are open! feel free to send anything Steve or Gator Tillman related and I can certainly try my best 🫡

need a man like steve to call me gorgeous ⤵️

“Damn, you’re looking fine, Mrs. Harrington,” a voice calls out from the living room as you make your way down the stairs.

Your eyes widen at the words; left hand pausing mid air while attempting to put your last earring in since your toddler is being firmly held up with your right hand - propping her up on your hip.

You’re completely caught off guard from what the teenager sitting on the couch next to your oldest son just said to you.

There’s a collective intake of breath around the lower level of the house - all eyes flashing to Steve for his reaction, who’s frozen by the front door - looking like he’s absolutely ready to strangle the kid.

Your eldest boy looks horrified at his friend’s comment while your oldest girl who’s sitting at the kitchen island working on homework looks disgusted. Your ten year old twins who are lounging on the living room floor pause the board game they’re playing - sensing the sudden tension in the room.

Your four year old boy who was trailing the stairs behind you slams into your legs- not expecting you to have stopped. It causes you to stumble as you’re still two steps above the floor.

You panic instantly, worried about face planting with your youngest babe in your hands - but Steve’s there in a heartbeat, hands slithering around your waist to steady you. The movement forces you into his chest, lone earring clattering to the floor and your boy falls to his butt behind you.

“You alright, baby?” Steve murmurs gently by the shell of your ear, and you nod slightly - pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss of thanks.

Your boy that’s fallen on the stairs starts crying at the impact, and Steve carefully lets go of you to scoop him up into his arms.

“Why are you crying buddy? You’re the one who nearly steamrolled into Mommy,” Steve teases lightly, thumbs already brushing away his boy’s tears.

“That scared you, huh?” You ask him tenderly, rubbing at his back - knowing he’s physically fine, just startled.

He sniffles and nods, hiding his face in his daddy’s neck.

Your middle girl pushes herself off the floor, comes over and grabs the earring you dropped, “Do you want me to put this in for you?”

“That would be great, babe, thanks,” you smile at her, and she climbs the stairs to stand behind you - securing the piece of jewelry in place.

She steps back before grinning, “You look beautiful, Mommy.”

“She always does, doesn’t she?” Steve agrees, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

Your girl nods before hugging you from behind, “Do you have to go tonight?”

You pat her hands that are linked around your middle, “We shouldn’t be out too late, sweetheart.”

You and Steve were headed to Hawkins High for a banquet that the graduating class of ‘85 was hosting. You’d honestly rather stay in and spend time with your babes, but with Steve being a teacher at the middle school, it was expected that he be in attendance.

Steve looks particularly handsome in his dress pants that hug his legs perfectly, paired with a white long sleeve button up and black tie wrapped loosely around the neckline. If you were alone, you wouldn’t have let him leave the house without getting a taste of the skin that’s exposed at his neck.

You’re practically drooling over him, and the reality of the moment comes crashing back when your oldest boy’s friend stands up from the couch, hands tucked into his pockets and compliments your appearance again.

“I mean really, that dress is killer on you,” he smirks, and Steve’s mouth drops open at the audacity.

You put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, trying to ground him - reminding him not to make any rash decisions.

Steve clears his throat, “I’m sorry, what did you just say about my wife?”

You bite your lip in amusement, because he’s defending your honor against a hormonal teenager that can’t get his emotions in check.

At Steve’s voice, the kid looks a bit meek, but not lacking total confidence when he says, “Like you look great, Mrs. H, stunning even.”

Steve turns to you with a baffled expression before whispering, “Is he serious right now?”

You huff out a disbelieving laugh, “Steve, he’s a child.”

“Bullsh-,” he cuts himself off, remembering the two littles in both of your arms, “He’s seventeen. He’s old enough to know what he’s saying, baby,” he grumbles quietly.

His eyes flick over to the boy - standing there awkwardly now, since it’s obvious that you’re purposefully avoiding his praises, “Ought to teach him a lesson about how to treat women since his parents clearly haven’t done it.”

But Steve doesn’t need to do that, because your oldest boy is already on it, “Dude, are you, are you flirting with my mom?”

“No! No, definitely not,” but the way he’s spluttering the words proves otherwise.

“You totally were,” your girl calls out from the kitchen.

Your twins start giggling at the absurdity of it, and Steve watches proudly as his son reams into his friend.

“That’s my mom, man. Have some respect,” he chides angrily, folding his arms across his chest.

The boy’s mouth flounders, embarrassed now at being called out, “Uh, sorry Mrs. H, Mr. H. I’m just, yeah, I’m gonna go.”

He scrabbles for the exit, leaving the rest of you stunned at the ridiculousness of what just happened.

“Great choice in friends,” Steve quips, raising his eyebrows at your boy.

Your boy defends himself, “How was I supposed to know he was going to say that? You do look really pretty, by the way, Mom.”

You smile, “Thanks, hun.”

“Seriously though, don’t think I want you inviting him back over here,” Steve mumbles, and you laugh lightly before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

With your free hand, you reach up to brush back some of the strands of hair fighting to fall into his eyes, “No need to be all pouty about it, baby.”

“I’m not being pouty, I just don’t need a bunch of teenage boys thinking it’s okay to hit on you,” he says with a frown still on his face.

You smile fondly at him, swiping your thumb over the creases that his drawn in eyebrows are making.

“Whatever you say, babe,” you tease, before walking into the kitchen.

Steve falls quiet as his eyes wander the expanse of your legs as you move, appreciating the view of the tight dress hugging your curves.

“Dad,” your oldest scolds when he realizes what Steve’s doing.

“What?” Steve snaps out of it, recognizing that he’s been caught, “Don’t give me that look. I’m allowed to check out my wife.”

You hand your toddler off to your oldest girl, who puts up a brief fight at you letting her go. You watch your girl bounce and console her younger sister easily - effectively distracting her.

“Are you sure you and your brother got this? The babysitter said she was free tonight,” you ask again, wanting to double check.

The plan was never to purposefully have children with such large age gaps.

Steve’s plan was to always have six if you’d let him, but yours was to take it one at a time before deciding if you wanted more since you had once been unsure about children. When you had your oldest though, you immediately knew you wanted another when you took one look at him - at seeing this perfect little being that you and your husband had created together.

Then your eldest girl came next, and you were pretty sure two was enough - but life happens, and years later your twins came along with the rest of the littles; and soon six Harrington children were filling up the space in your home and the crevices in your heart.

People often joked that the age gap meant free babysitting services - which never failed to make you frustrated for your oldest two, because that was definitely not their responsibility.

You were grateful however, that you had children who loved their siblings deeply. It meant that sometimes your teenagers wanted to take care of the younger babes for you without you having to ask.

“We’ve got it, Mom,” your oldest boy confirms, who’s now holding your youngest boy after taking him from Steve.

Steve catches the emotion clouding your eyes at seeing them together and curls you into his chest - giving you a tight squeeze of affection.

“See, baby? Told you they’d be fine,” Steve hugs you closely, before steering you towards the door - trying to get you out before you change your mind about leaving them. You hug the twins goodbye, pressing a kiss to each of their heads.

“Call us if you need-,” you start, but are interrupted by your oldest girl.

“Anything, we know. Now go, before she starts throwing a hissy fit about you two leaving,” she jokes, stroking softly at her sister's hair.

You finish saying goodbye to all of your kids, and Steve starts tugging your hand to pull you into the night air.

“Really, if you need anything, call,” Steve echoes your previous words.

Once you’re settled in Steve’s truck, you watch as your babes wave to you through the front window, and you lean over the middle console to place a hand lovingly on Steve’s knee.

“God, how did we get so lucky, Steve?” You wonder out loud.

“You mean how did I get so lucky? Shit baby, have you looked in the mirror today?” He says playfully, grabbing your hand that rests on his knee to bring it to his lips.

“Steve,” you smile warmly, feeling the familiar flush of heat creep up your neck.

“Kinda just wanna rip that dress off you and skip this damn thing,” he kisses the palm of your hand, before littering kisses up the span of your arm.

“That would be a lot more fun,” you hum out, savoring the feeling of his lips on your skin.

Steve turns to face you, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey.”

He drops his head into the crook of your neck, gently nipping at the skin there and you whimper at the touch.

“Probably shouldn’t be on the verge of making out when our kids are still watching,” you tease, eyes cutting to the window to see the oldest two trying to shield the eyes of your youngest ones.

You cup Steve’s chin, tilting his head so he can look at the sight, which makes laughter spill from those pretty pink lips of his.

“You’re right, we should probably go park down the street first before making out,” he smiles coyly at you.

You push lightly in jest at him, “Just start the car, babe.”

Steve places one last kiss at the sweet spot below your ear before backing out the driveway, “Yes, ma’am.”

The banquet was in full swing, and you and Steve were currently taking a break from the buzz of constant socializing when you make eye contact with Tommy Hagan from across the gym.

“Oh, god,” you mumble under your breath.

Neither of you had seen him since senior year, as Steve had cut off contact with the guy completely, but heard that he left Hawkins and dropped Carol Perkins along the way.

Tommy immediately grins wickedly, before stalking closer to you and Steve.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Steve inquires, arm tightening around your waist.

Your hand that’s hooked around his bicep grips a little tighter, “Incoming.”

Steve follows your gaze and groans in annoyance - doesn’t want to have to deal with the onslaught of surface level questions Tommy will have.

“Harrington! Good to see you, man. What’s it been, like twenty years since graduation? And Hargrove, looking good as always,” Tommy sends a wink your way.

You smile tightly, pressing yourself closer to your husband - uncomfortable with the way Tommy’s eyes drag up and down your figure.

“Hey, Tommy. Yeah, it’s been a while,” Steve forces a small smile, hand that’s on your hip holding you a bit more protectively.

“Didn’t realize the two of you were together,” Tommy notices the way Steve’s arm tucks you towards him.

You hum in acknowledgment, before flashing your left hand at him, allowing him to see the rock next to the wedding band that rests on your ring finger.

“Oh shit, so you’re like together, together,” Tommy’s eyes widened.

The phrase makes you want to laugh, because not only have you been married for seventeen years, but you’ve got six children at home to show for the life you’ve built together.

“Mhmm,” you nod politely, and Steve can’t help but place a possessive kiss to your temple at seeing the way Tommy’s eyes linger on you.

They catch up briefly - jobs, sports, reminiscing about high school. The topic of kids doesn’t come up, which isn’t surprising because Tommy has been droning on and on about his bachelor lifestyle in Indianapolis.

There’s a sudden commotion as a few of Steve’s previous students run up to him; in high school now themselves and are at the event to get volunteer hours with their clubs.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt Coach Steve, but Ms. Kelley asked us to move some tables and we could use help,” one of the boys asks.

It’s clear Steve’s fighting an internal battle, doesn’t want to say no to the kids but also doesn’t want to leave you alone.

“You good, honey?” Steve checks with you.

Tommy answers for you, “She’ll be fine, man. I’ll keep her company.”

Which is exactly what Steve doesn’t want. He ignores the comment, staring intently at you.

“Go help, babe. I’ll be okay,” you assure him, lifting your hand to cup his jaw - thumb brushing delicately against his cheek.

His eyes close briefly at the touch, still hesitating - not sure what to do.

“Come on, don’t leave them hanging, Stevie,” Tommy throws the nickname in as a jab - knew that Steve hated it in high school; which he still does, unless you’re the one saying it.

Steve’s decidedly ticked off with Tommy and makes a point to shut him up by kissing you. He leans forward to slot his lips with yours, pulling you to him by clasping his hands behind your lower back.

You instantly wrap your arms around his neck, enjoying the feel of him pressing his mouth eagerly to yours which makes your head fizzy - bubbles of want pooling in your stomach.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he breathes out, nose nudging yours, kisses you one last time before going to help the high schoolers.

Tommy stands there a little awkwardly, and you hoped maybe he’d scram after that public display of affection, but he seems to be like a roach you can’t squash.

You watch Steve hopelessly from across the room, desperate for him to come back to you quickly - tired of making small talk with Tommy.

“You and Harrington are pretty serious then?” Tommy wonders.

“Yep,” you reply, tone clipped.

“But I mean, you know he was never the settle down type of guy, right?” Tommy goads, referring to the “King Steve” era.

You huff a breath of irritation - hating that people still put Steve in a box when they know nothing about him anymore, “He was never like that, Tommy. He just needed the right person to love him.”

Tommy barks a laugh, “And that’s you?”

You narrow your eyes into slits at him, blood starting to boil at his flippancy, “Why don’t you ask my six children?”

He chokes on his drink, inhaling it wrong at the shock of that information, “And you’re sure they’re all his?”

“Oh my god, you’re still a pig you know that?” You lash out, turning to storm away, but he follows you.

“Come on, didn’t mean it like that, princess,” he calls out, and you freeze at the name he once taunted you with.

You whip around and seethe, “Do not, ever, call me that again.”

Tommy raises his hands up, “Woah, just trying to make conversation. No need to be so defensive.”

You glare at him, arms crossed, breathing angrily.

“I’m sorry, really. I guess I’m just a little envious," he shrugs.

“Envious?” You ask in disbelief.

“I mean, yeah. Being honest with you, I totally had a thing for you in high school. I just never acted on it because of you know, Billy,” he trails off before continuing, “And seeing you here with my old best friend of all people, guess it just shocked the hell out of me.”

He actually kind of looks bummed out, which makes you feel just a tiny bit guilty - but then he instantly ruins it when he takes advantage of your quietness.

Tommy steps forward, “Don’t you ever think about it?”

“Think about what?” You inquire, confusion lacing your tone.

“Me and you?” He asks smugly, obviously out of touch with reality.

“No, I don’t. I’m happily married,” you refute.

“Sure, but like don’t you ever get bored?” He tries to get you to crack.

You grit your teeth, “Steve loves me, and I love him. What are you not getting about that?”

Tommy steps into your personal bubble, hand sliding down your arm, grabbing onto your wrist, “You know, if I had the balls to ask you out back then, things would’ve been different.”

Your jaw drops at his gall, “They would not be, now let go of me.”

“Admit it, Hargrove. I could’ve made you just as happy,” he replies cockily, and you just about slap him in the face for that when you thankfully feel Steve’s arm snake around your shoulder.

“It’s Harrington, now get your hands off my wife,” Steve roughly bites out, thoroughly done with Tommy’s gross behavior after watching him stalk you from across the gym.

Tommy drops your arm swiftly, “Just making sure she was okay, man.”

“No, you were trying to make a move on a married woman, real classy,” Steve snorts in aggravation.

Steve doesn’t give Tommy the opportunity to reply, simply guides you away - heading straight for the exit sign.

“Wait, Steve, don’t you have to be here?” You ask, trying to get him to stop.

“Don’t care. Not letting you stay anywhere near that pathetic creep any longer,” Steve breathes out sharply through his nose.

He shoves the doors open, hightailing it out of the school, and you’re struggling to keep up in your high heels.

“Babe, slow down, please,” you plead, clutching onto his arm.

Steve notices you’re straggling behind, and he makes the split decision to haul you up in his arms.

He crouches slightly, swiftly brings his left arm up and under your thighs, while his right arm secures itself around your back.

Your arms scramble for purchase around his neck at the sudden movement, “What’s going on in that head of yours, handsome?”

“Shouldn’t have left you alone,” he fumes.

You understand then that he’s blaming himself, “Steve, it’s not your fault.”

“He put his hands on you,” Steve grates out, holding you closer to him.

Your legs sway in the air as he furiously makes his way through the parking lot to get to the car. You hate seeing him upset, but can’t lie that it doesn’t turn you on with how territorial of you he’s being.

One of your hands moves to card through the back of his hair, “You don’t need to be jealous, baby.”

“Oh, I’m jealous all right. But I’m more pissed off that he thought it was okay to touch you, and livid with myself for leaving you with him,” his breathing is erratic from how upset he is.

“Then make it up to me, we don’t have to be home for another hour,” you remind him, tucking your head into the junction of his collarbone.

That’s how you found yourself curled up next to him in a booth at Mel’s Diner, the place you used to frequent when you were still just dating.

You were sharing your favorite - breakfast food for dinner, chatting about Steve’s summer baseball league he was coaching. Your legs are pulled up sideways on the leather seat, and Steve has a hand hooked under the back of your knees.

You were letting him vent to you - loved that you had the privilege of being his safe space to do so, when you’re interrupted by one of the fathers of the children that your son goes to Pre-K with.

He’s a single dad, and you can’t deny that he would boldly flirt with you when your paths crossed - which you were always honest with Steve about.

“Hey! It’s so good to see you outside of day care pickup,” he says enthusiastically, seemingly to purposefully ignore Steve.

Steve swallows harshly, picking up on the fact that this must be the guy who’s trying to weasel his way in between your marriage.

“Um, yeah. Good to see you too. This is my husband, Steve,” you introduce him, and the guy visibly deflates at that, even though he already knew you were married.

“Right, you’re the husband,” he trails off, avoiding eye contact.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Of seventeen years.”

You softly hit him with your elbow, because you don’t want things to be weird when you see the man at your son's school.

“Anyways, you look beautiful, by the way,” the guy tries, even though Steve’s right there.

“Oh, thanks,” you reply cordially, trying not to be rude but also are a little irked that he’s blatantly making a move in front of your man.

Steve clears his throat and makes it obvious he wants him to leave, “We’re kinda in the middle of something.”

“Sorry, my bad. Nice to meet you, man. See you later, beautiful,” he bids you goodbye arrogantly.

Steve’s got a sulky look on his face as he watches the guy leave.

Your lips pull in an amused smile, “What’s wrong, Stevie?”

He groans at the teasing, turns back to you and drops his head into the crook of your neck.

“Baby, you realize that was the third time,” he whines.

You giggle lightly at the feel of his lips on your skin, “Third time for what?”

“The third time you’ve been hit on in one day by someone that wasn’t me,” he grumbles.

“And none of them mattered, because they weren’t you,” you remind him, gently playing with the wedding band on his hand.

Steve sighs in frustration, “Did you see the nerve of that guy though? It’s like I wasn’t even sitting here.”

“Steve,” you say calmly, “I don’t even remember his name, honey.”

He pulls his head up, “Really?”

Your hand comes up to fiddle with his tie, and you yank him closer to you, “Only got eyes for you, baby.”

Steve’s eyes drop from your eyes to your lips, tongue flicking out to wet them, desperate to get you out of the public view to be able to ravish you.

You have the same idea - glancing down at the watch on your wrist before asking, “We still have twenty minutes. Wanna go makeout in your truck?”

“God, yes,” Steve breathes out excitedly, throwing down a wad of cash and nearly trips over his own feet as he books it out the diner with you on his heels.

When you get back home, you find your children spread out on the living room floor, back to playing the board game.

Your toddler is sleeping though - curled up in the lap of her ten year old brother, while his twin has her head resting against your oldest girl's stretched out legs. Your oldest is staring intently at the game - determining his next move, and your four year old is the only one with enough energy to get up and throw himself at you.

You swing him up easily, kissing his cheek, “Hey, buddy. Missed you.”

He mutters out a reply, and as you and Steve move into the room, your children clock Steve’s attitude right away.

“Dad, why do you look grumpy?” your ten year old boy asks him quietly, not wanting to wake up his sister.

Steve looks offended at the comment, “I do not look grumpy.”

“You do,” your oldest chimes in, before scratching his head - still deciding what to do about the game.

“Well apparently, Mom’s got more than just teenage admirers,” Steve says, looking over at his oldest son.

“I swear I didn’t know he had a crush on Mom,” your boy groans.

“Dad, I feel like you should’ve already known that. Mom’s gorgeous,” your eldest girl says it like a well known fact, fingers working on braiding her sisters hair.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” you smile, a little shy at all the compliments you’ve been receiving from your children today.

“I know Mom’s gorgeous, believe me,” Steve smiles, then mumbles something about that being the reason there’s six of them.

“Ugh, Dad, that’s revolting,” your eldest girl complains.

“Why’s Daddy revolting?” Your middle girl asks curiously, blinking sleepily from her spot.

Your oldest boy laughs, “He’s not revolting, he’s just in love with Mom.”

Your children continue to poke fun at their father when you join them on the floor, and you can tell Steve’s mood lifts at the lighthearted atmosphere.

You’re resting against Steve’s bare chest later that night in bed, fingers trailing through the coarse hair there when he finally asks you what’s been bugging him all evening.

“You sure you don’t get bored?” Steve asks you with a trace of worry behind his eyes.

Your lips part in shock, “You heard that?”

“Tommy’s voice carries, unfortunately,” Steve gripes.

You’re about to respond, when your door slowly creaks open, and it’s your youngest babe - clattering in with your high heels on her tiny feet that you’d kicked off in the hallway earlier.

You giggle affectionately at watching her stumble in - hands planting on the floor to catch herself from falling.

“What are you doing out of bed, sweet girl?” You ask her.

You had to get her a floor bed since she was actively climbing out of her crib once she learned how to, which meant she frequently found her way to your room in the evening.

“Mommy, shoes,” she pushes herself back up, smiling cheekily at you.

“Wow baby, you look beautiful in Mommy’s shoes,” you coo at her, sliding off the bed to pick her up - the high heels stay hooked on her toes, dangling from the edges.

She points to them, “Daddy, shoes.”

Steve gets up to join the two of you, “Gorgeous baby, just like your Mama.”

She starts babbling, trying so hard to form full sentences and your heart squeezes at the sight of Steve nodding along, gazing adoringly at her.

You slip your free arm around his naked back, traveling your arm up and down the warm skin in assurance, “Could never be bored with the life we have, Steve.”

Steve leans his forehead against yours, “Thank god, gorgeous.”

There’s a gentle knock that interrupts you, turning to see your oldest, who looks a little guilty.

“Hey, Dad?” He says.

“Yeah, bud?” Steve replies.

Your boy shifts his feet, “I just wanted to apologize for before. I don’t wanna be friends with anyone who’s going to be disrespectful towards you and Mom’s relationship, so he won’t be coming over again.”

You smile sweetly at your boy, knowing he’s got a heart that’s just like his dad’s.

Pride washes over Steve’s face, “That means a lot to me. Thanks, bud.”

“Even though it’s a little crazy that you were jealous over a literal teenager,” he ribs his dad, and it makes you cover your mouth in amusement at the witty remark.

Steve scoffs in jest, “Great, I’m being targeted in my own home.”

“Only because we love you,” you hug him with your toddler squished in the middle, and Steve rests his head against your own.

Your oldest bids the two of you goodnight, and you let yourself melt into Steve’s arms - thankful for a love that still warrants petty jealousy and soft declarations of assurances that you’ll forever be each other’s.

Taglist: I’ve gotten some requests to get a tag list going for this series, so if you’re interested lmk in the comments section or message me!

Divider credits to @pixopix

[liana-rybakova-3641]

[sophiarauss]

Umm ... Oops