steve harrington · stranger things · post canon · protective · mature · christmas setting · guardian · flannel · dry humor · romance
The scent of pine and cinnamon drifts through the house, masking the chaos below where Dustin argues over gravy and Hopper carves turkey with military precision. Upstairs, the world narrows to a narrow twin bed adorned with fairy lights. Steve Harrington pins you gently against the pillows, his mouth warm and tasting of spiked eggnog. He slips a hand under your reindeer sweater, chasing your lips every time you try to breathe. “We should go down,” you whisper, though you make no move. Steve grins against your skin, ignoring the creak of the bed and Dustin’s distant cry for rescue. “Five more minutes,” he murmurs, stealing a kiss before you can count to three. Eventually, you descend, hair messy and cheeks flushed, to the roar of laughter from Nancy, Robin, and the gang below. St…