#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

[veryberryjelly]

brownies

pairing : steve harrington x reader

🎃 - caught in the rain

👻 - "come on under the covers with me"

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

you felt stupid to trust the weather man.

he had said the skies would be clear until tomorrow morning so you took it upon yourself to walk to steve's instead of driving to enjoy a nice fall walk amongst the leaves and slight chill in the air.

but of course the weather man had failed to mention that he was absolutely wrong, which was why you were practically running down the street towards steve's house as rain bucketed down onto of your head.

thankfully you hadn't brought anything with you other than a tupperware full of cookies which were safe underneath your jacket and t-shirt.

you almost slipped and fallen twice on the hill up towards steve's house but thankfully you had been able to stabilise yourself before you fell on your ass.

when you spotted his house through the rain you unintentionally sped up, wanting to bask in the warmth of his house as soon as possible and changing out of the dripping fabric that was making you shiver.

when you finally arrived under the porch of his house you let yourself relax a little, at least you didnt have the constant feeling of rain pattering on your head.

steve was quick to open the door once you knocked and the wave of warmth from inside his house gave you goosebumps.

" what the hell, did you walk here? " was the first words out of steve's mouth as he ushered you inside, shutting the door behind you to keep the warmth in.

" yeah, the weather guy said it was going to be dry until tomorrow, so i thought i'd go for a walk, but the skies decided to open when i was too far to turn back " you explained, pulling the box of brownies out from underneath your jacket.

" i made you brownies " you explained, a smile spreading onto your wet cheeks as you offered the box out to him.

he was a little bit floored.

while you were standing on his welcome mat absolutely soaked through, you had the brightest smile on your face and were offering him brownies.

" thank you.. wait here a minute and i'll grab you a towel and some dry clothes "

you nodded before he backed out of the room, setting the brownies on his kitchen counter.

it was only a few moments before steve returned with a towel in one hand and some of his clothes draped over the other.

" okay, here " he said, offering the towel out to you for out to dry yourself.

you instantly took the fabric, rubbing it over your hair in an attempt to stop it dripping down your back.

" and you can jump in the shower so you don't get pneumonia. "

a soft laugh fell from both of your lips as you continued drying yourself.

" okay, i'm gonna go do that and then we can actually spend some time together, because i havent seen you in two weeks. " you replied, leaning up to press a kiss onto his lips before you took the dry clothes from him and headed up to the bathroom to stop the chattering of your teeth.

-----

you were only in there for about five minutes before you emerged in a pair of steves boxers and one of your favourite t-shirts of his.

instead of heading back downstairs, you went to his bedroom in hopes of finding the hairbrush you left there for when you stayed over.

but you found more than just a hairbrush.

you found steve laying onto of his bed with two steaming mugs on his bedside table along with the tupperware of brownies you had brought over.

a smile settled on his face when he spotted you a lot more comfortable and warm in his clothes.

it was moments before he lifted the blankets and spoke " come on under the covers with me, it'll warm you up "

who were you to tell him no ?

brushing your hair could wait until it was dry.

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. ���It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙝𝙤𝙬, 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚

summary; it’s been a long couple of months, and after a particularly rough night, your ex boyfriend finds his way straight back to you.

warnings; no use of y/n, post s4, exes-to-lovers, description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, emotional sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lil bit of cockwarming

word count; ~5k

a/n; i meant for this to be a quick little hurt/comfort thing but then my mind kind of ran wild and it turned into.. this. but i think i really like how it turned out sooo, y'know.. leave a comment/tag/reblog if you enjoy!

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

You're not entirely certain who you were expecting to find on the other side of your door at two in the morning, and maybe you should've given the possibilities a bit more thought before unlocking the door and swinging it open wide, effectively exposing yourself to whatever may be waiting on the other side — but you don't. And it's with a sleep-slowed brain, a baggy tshirt resting high on your naked thighs, and bare feet that drag lazy across cold floorboards, that you find yourself staring at your ex boyfriend.

Steve Harrington.

He's standing in front of you looking a little nervous, a little lost, and a whole lot like he's just come from some sort of brawl. The sudden brightness of the hallway lights outside of your apartment makes your eyes ache and you're squinting, one hand coming up to block a bit of the light just as your heart drops as you take him in.

His hair is a little longer than when you last saw him, impossible for him to keep from flopping down over his forehead while the ends curl at the nape of his neck, light shining down on the strands and streaking golden through the locks that you'd run your hands through once upon a time. But you're hardly able to process or file away those small changes when your gaze begins frantically to absorb the more important and wildly more alarming details in his appearance.

The light wash of his jeans is covered in splotches of denim slightly darker than the rest where something's been spilled down his leg, streaks of dirt rubbed into the knees like he'd fallen down, and blood — there are crimson drops of it splattered along the fabric at his thigh, likely his, likely from the split lip he's sporting, or perhaps from his bruising nose.. When those red smears crusted beneath his nostrils had been fresh and wet and had clearly dripped down past his chin and onto the collar of his shirt, which also seems to be stained in an array of red-splotched fabric.

“Fuck. Steve, what-” Your voice shakes through the sleepy rasp in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at the familiarity of it all — the scene in front of you sending that achingly familiar trickle of fear and worry and panic all racing down your spine.

“I- Hey, sweetheart.” His own voice cracks a little like his throat's been scraped raw from shouting. He's got his hands tucked away in his back pockets like he might be able to make himself small enough that you won't start yelling, his eyes sad and a little pleading as he gives you a weak smile. He lets out a small hiss of a wince when the motion pulls at the slow drying scab on his lower lip.

“Stevie..” The nickname slips out before you can swallow it down.

You think that you might be in shock, if the adrenaline shooting through your veins is anything to go by. It's making it a little difficult to think clearly as you stumble through the doorway, hands coming into contact with his chest as you brace yourself. Your thumbs find those drops of blood that are still drying into the fabric of his shirt, shaking fingers dragging over the freckles on the side of his throat on their way to his jaw.

You have to fight the instinct to linger on those faded scars encircling his neck, have to fight to push back the memories of the night that things between you had finally fallen apart — when all of Steve's half-truths and secrets and outright lies had finally pushed you to your breaking point. The night of the earthquake. When he'd shown up on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, just like this, looking like he'd been to hell and back, in search of comfort and someone to patch him up but apparently not looking to give out any explanations for the state he'd come to you in. Not for the marks on his neck, and certainly not for the horrifying chunks of flesh that had been torn from his stomach and sides.

The fear you'd felt that night coils in your gut again. It's the very same fear that you'd endured eight months before the end, when Steve had gone awol for forty-eight hours only to find you the evening of the mall fire. That time, his left eye had been nearly swollen shut, body littered in bruises in varying shades of black and purple. You'd sat with him in the bathtub with your limbs carefully wrapped around him for hours, until the water had gone ice cold, and even after that he'd been glued to your side until morning. You'd both burrowed beneath a pile of blankets despite the summer heat, legs tangled and sweaty bodies clinging to one another. Even though you couldn't begin to understand how the fire could have been the cause of his turmoil, of his injuries, you'd still held him tight, one hand tangled in his damp hair at all times while he'd clutched onto you like you were his lifeline. The hours it had taken for the tremble in his hands to fade had nearly broken your heart.

It's all a little too much, the position that you've suddenly been thrust back into.

“Wh-? What the hell happened?” You question hoarsely.

Why you bother to ask now, you're not entirely sure. You're certainly not expecting him to give you any answers, but as your thumb pushes gently into the swelling softness of his busted lip, the fingers of your opposite hand brushing the hair back from his blood-spattered forehead, Steve sighs.

“It's not.. I was at the bar. Got into a fight.” He admits with another wince as your thumb skates up the bridge of his nose.

“Got into a fight or started a fight?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking slow between his; they're tired and bloodshot, his lashes clumped together like maybe he'd been crying, caramel swirling in the pretty brown depths that you'd been steadfastly avoiding thinking about these last few months.

A huff crackles as he tries to push a sigh from his blood-clogged nose, his hands finally leaving his pockets to hang awkwardly at his sides while he gives a small shrug, “..’was stupid.” He says in lue of a direct answer.

“I'm sure it was,” You grumble under your breath, swallowing your instincts and forcing yourself to take a small step back, your hands falling away so you can hug your arms across your own chest with a sigh, “What're you doing here, Steve?”

“I didn't know where to.. I..” The words don't seem to come and he falters, shrinking in on himself further, “I don't know.” He admits after a moment.

Your eyes close as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you, “I can't-”

“Please,” Steve nearly whispers the word and when you meet his eyes again, his gaze is a little watery, “I know you don't want to see me. I know you're still mad. And.. You have every right to be, okay? But-”

“But what?” You plead weakly, fingers digging a little meanly into your own arms.

“I just..” He struggles for a moment, hands raking through his hair and ruffling it into further disarray, “I just needed.. I..”

The fissure in your heart cracks wide, the slow healing wound tearing open to expose this gaping thing that feels a little like it might be enough to shatter your soul. Even while the more sensible parts of your brain scream at you to shut the door in his face, you find yourself taking his hand in yours, swollen and blood crusted knuckles under your thumb as you pull him into the dark apartment and close the door behind you.

You push him to sit down on the couch, a wordless order for him to stay put implied in the sidelong glance that you shoot him before turning away to move down the hall and grab your first aid kit and a wet cloth from the bathroom. When you return, Steve hasn't moved an inch, just as miserable and small-looking as you'd left him a few moments before. He's got his fingers tucked into the crook of space behind his knees, the tall streetlight across the road allowing stripes of light to cut across his hunched form, late night shadows eating up everything else.

The coffee table is nudged closer to the sofa with your foot as you sit down in front of him, your bare knees brushing filthy denim when you scoot to the edge of the table and bring the cloth up to his blood-spattered cheek. You're gentle with it, wiping at same spots a few times with the lightest pressure you can manage as the mess proceeds to smear, red-tinged streaks of water against his skin lessening with each careful swipe. Once his face is clean, you move on to the knuckles of his right hand, pulling it from where he has it tucked beneath his thigh to softly wash away the crusted blood from his split and bruising skin.

You work silently for a few minutes. The soiled cloth is dropped against the coffee table with a wet slap and you immediately turn to find the alcohol and cotton balls in the messy basket you keep stored beneath your bathroom sink.

You've just begun to open the package of cotton when Steve says your name, nothing more than a hoarse whisper to break the heavy silence.

When you meet his eyes, the desperation you find there has you faltering for a moment. The warmth that seeps into your skin from each point of contact between you suddenly seems so much stronger. Heat and nerves creep up the back of your neck as you blink at him in question.

The backs of his damp knuckles drag up over your calf before pushing into the smooth skin on the outside of your thigh, his thumb pinching lightly at the doughy flesh there, “I.. Can you..” His hand unfurls and he lets his palm settle against you, his fingertips high enough to slip beneath the hem of your oversized shirt and brush the crook where your thigh meets your hip, “I just.. want..”

He seems incapable of finishing his thoughts, but he doesn't really need to because you know. With the way his free hand comes up to push a lock of hair behind your ear, thumb tracing the line of your jaw to your chin before catching against your lower lip in that all too familiar way, you know what it is that he's asking for.

“Steve..” Your accompanying sigh comes out a little shaky as you exhale it over the pad of his finger, your lashes fluttering as something stirs in your gut in response to his soft touch, “I don't think that's a good-”

“Please.” He whispers again — and, how could you possibly deny him when he sounds so pitiful that it wrenches at your broken heart? While his brows are drawing together like he's already bracing himself for your rejection even as his eyes remain soft and pleading?

And when the hand on your thigh pushes up to slide over the bare skin at the base of your spine, when he applies the barest pressure to urge you toward him, when the fingers on your face slip behind your neck — you're climbing into his lap with little encouragement. Your shins push into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs, hands finding the hem of his ruined shirt and guiding it up over his head in an easy movement that has his hair flopping down over his forehead again.

When your gaze drops, you allow yourself all of ten seconds to trail your fingers over the rough scars across his abdomen. The skin is a little puckered and pink, mottled in a way that it probably wouldn't be if he'd found himself at the hospital that night in late March instead of on your doorstep, but they've healed. It's a far cry from the jagged wounds that you'd tried to clean with blood-stained hands, through quiet sobs and glassy eyes. They'd been so deep, as if something had tried to carve out little bits and pieces of him over and over, like something had torn into him, like something had feasted on his flesh then and left behind nothing but the evidence of small, frighteningly sharp teeth.

Your choked questions ring in your ears even now, the way you'd begged for him to tell you what was going on, who kept hurting him like this — but as easily as your own voice echos in your memories, so does Steve's. You can still hear his agonized groans and cries of pain as you'd tended to his injuries, can still remember the sound of his desperate pleas for you to drop it, to just accept that he couldn't explain-

And you'd asked him then, if it was that he couldn't or that he wouldn't. The resulting silence from him had been answer enough.

Now, Steve seems to know exactly where your mind has gone and he covers your hands with his own, pressing your palms flat against the lingering marks on his skin.

“They're healed.” You state quietly through the emotion clogging your throat. The obviousness of the statement rings stupidly in your ears but you're not sure what else to say in the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse, “I had a pretty good nurse.. Cleaned me up real nice so that I didn't, I dunno, die from an infection or somethin'.”

A laugh pushes up from your throat that borders on a sob, “She sounds cool.” You manage, your thumbnail scraping lightly into the healed patch of skin under your hand.

“Oh, yeah, the coolest.” Steve tells you with the barest hint of a smile pulling at the unbruised side of his mouth. “You okay?” He asks quietly after another moment of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, 'm fine.” You tell him with a shake of your head.

“Sweetheart..” Steve starts slowly, “I want.. Shit, I- I want you so bad right now, but if you don't want this-” When his hands move to the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes meet yours in silent question, and your head is nodding a little wildly in approval before you can begin to think too hard about it.

His hands nearly burn with every brush against your bare skin as you strip one another down to nothing, his touch leaving behind invisible streaks of something heavy and terrifyingly melancholy, something that you're sure will linger painfully in your chest long after he's gone and left you with a broken heart and an ever growing list of unanswered questions.

“I still have to clean your cuts.” You tell him quietly.

Steve's eyes only rake over your naked body for a moment before his gaze settles back on yours, “Okay.”

You settle over his lap again and wet a cotton ball with alcohol, “It's gonna hurt.” You warn in a whisper.

“I know.” Steve returns just as softly.

Bracing one hand on the side of his neck, you dab featherlight over his split lip. Steve's jaw clenches at the sting as it seeps into the cut and you murmur a soft apology while you continue to clean the area with careful fingers.

Steve's hands settle on your hips and his eyes flick between yours as he waits for you to meet his gaze. When you look up from his swollen lower lip, he gulps, adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Is this okay?” He asks, fingers digging into your flesh a little as he pulls your hips until your groins align nicely.

“Yeah.” You murmur, dabbing at the cut on his lip again just so that you have an excuse to look away from his eyes.

Your heartbeat ricochets against your ribs sharply as Steve guides you to grind slow over his lap, the warmth of him wedged between your spread folds. The way he manhandles you isn't rushed, the movement not nearly as desperate as you'd been expecting from his plea for intimacy. It's slow and quiet and filled with a weight that you wouldn't quite be able to explain if you tried.

It doesn't take long for his cock fatten up and grow stiff underneath you, his length and the patch of hair surrounding it both streaked with slick where your wet cunt has been dragging back and forth. You're both breathing a little heavy as you finish cleaning the cuts on his lip and the bridge of his nose, your faces close though neither one of you make any move to close the distance.

Steve curls an arm around the back of your thigh as he reaches around to guide himself toward your entrance. A breathy sound falls from your lips when you roll your hips back and feel his tip catch, just barely pushing in. He's as thick and warm and perfect as he's always been, and that hunger to have all of him spreads down the back of your tongue like warm honey, but the moment you spread your thighs a little farther to take more, Steve is stopping you.

“Wait, wait, wait. You.. Are you sure you're okay with this?” He asks suddenly. His fingers are digging into your hips, holding you in place to keep you from sinking farther down onto him as he awaits your response.

“Wh-?” Your jaw trembles with something like petulance, a little desperate yourself now that you can feel the fat head of his cock inside you, stretching you wide despite barely breaching your entrance, “You said that you-”

“I do. Fuck, I do, I just want to make sure you're sure.” He says it so soft, so earnest, and his concern has you feeling something resembling whiplash. The two of you haven't spoken in months, but he'd shown up at your front door in the middle of the night and practically begged for you; for your presence and your care and your body.

You want to feel angry with him. For looking out for your well-being now, for being Steve, for bringing up so many feelings that you'd tried so hard to bury, but he's looking up at you with imploring eyes — a gaze that says if you climbed off of his lap now, he wouldn't be upset with you, if anything, he'd be upset with himself and..

It has you reeling a little bit, that blooming affection crawling like rapidly expanding ivy inside your chest.

You brush that stubborn chunk of hair back and off of his forehead again, your fingers combing through to the back of his head until they can toy with the bits curling at the nape of his neck. Your mouth finds its way to the space between his brows, a shaky exhale masked by the kiss you press to his skin before dropping your foreheads together.

“I am. I'm sure.” You promise in a whisper.

When you sink down, both of you groan in synchrony, breathy and guttural. The stretch hurts more than you were expecting, but it's been months since you've done this, so you suppose that the sting from him filling you up is warranted. Your hips settle against his and his arms curl around your back to hold you in place, to hold you close. His chest is flush to yours, scattered hairs on his pecs pressed to your breasts, the tip of your nose still barely avoiding brushing against the bruised bridge of his own.

The sensation of being so full leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed, the intimacy of the moment suddenly too heavy. His breath mingling with your own and his soft hair tangled up around your fingers brings pinpricks of heat to your eyes that you stubbornly attempt to blink back.

“Hey.. Hey, honey,” Steve murmurs softly, one hand coming up to swipe a thumb along your watery lashline, “What's wrong? You okay? You hurting?”

Another strangled sounding scoff of a laugh tumbles from your lips, a weak sniffle as your fingers find their way to those smooth, faded lines along the front of his throat again, “I should be asking you that. You're the one who's had the shit beaten out of him tonight.”

“I'm fine. Two weeks n' I'll be good as new,” Steve assures you with carefully crafted nonchalance, his tear-stained thumb dragging back and forth along the apple of your cheek, “Now what's goin' on in that beautiful head of yours, huh?”

“I just..” You huff out a sigh, rolling your hips experimentally to test the ache between your thighs, “I missed you. Fuck, I- I miss you so much, Steve.”

A few tears do manage to break through then, something about the way the patchy light coming in through the windows casts a glow over his battered face, the browns in his eyes shining golden in the dark.

“Me too, I miss you too,” He rasps desperately, “Shit, honey. If you think I don't miss you every goddamn second- You're everything. You're my everything.”

He's holding your face in both hands now, palms cradling your jaw so gently, arms trembling like he's trying to fight the urge to hold onto you tighter. His restraint and his words twist sharply in your gut, something akin to dread weaving its way inside of you.

“I'm scared,” You admit, voice quiet and buried beneath tears, “I'm so scared-”

“Scared?” Steve repeats, concern flashing in his eyes, “What're you afraid of?”

“Losing you.” You gasp.

“Sweetheart-”

Your chest is heaving a little with the labored breaths beginning to tumble past your lips, “I'm gonna lose you all over again, because I can't.. It- It is terrifying. To see you hurt and bleeding and not know why. To worry that the next time might be even worse than the last and have you keep skirting around the truth or outright lying-”

“Hey, hey. Honey, hey,” Steve gives your cheeks a soft shake under his hands and your gaze falls back to his, “I'm sorry-”

“Jesus christ.” You bemoan quietly as another tear falls, halfheartedly pushing at his arms to dislodge his hands.

“No, no, I mean it,” Steve pleads softly, “I'm so sorry I kept you in the dark, I just- Shit, it's so complicated, I-”

“Asshole.” The interruption comes out a grumble under your breath, and you're gearing up to climb off of his lap entirely when his weak chuckle meets your ears.

“I am,” He nods, brushing your hair back from your tear streaked face, “I'm an asshole and I'm sorry. I- I'll tell you everything, alright? I will. I will.”

“Promise?” You hate yourself for how small you sound, how unsure and broken.

“I promise.”

You crane your neck and tilt your head to brush your lips featherlight over his, carefully avoiding putting any pressure on the mess of purple and black and red along the bridge of his nose, your thumbs gravitating yet again to drag over those smooth, barely visible scars around his neck.

“Does your mouth hurt too much, or can I-?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking between his.

“'course you can,” His hand pushes into your hair behind your ear, cupping your head to guide you forward carefully, “C'mere.”

Your mouths come together with all of the gentleness you can manage and you leave one soft peck, then two, then three. You begin to work your hips over his all the while, and neither of you can hold back a keening noise of pleasure at the slow drag of his cock inside your warm walls.

You ease back from his mouth to drag the pads of your index and middle finger lightly over the bruises coloring his skin.

“Did.. Did you really get into a bar fight?” You can't help but ask, even as you're lifting up and dropping back down hard enough to have you both letting out a breathy whimper.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, his fingers trailing along your ribs and stomach like he's trying to re-familiarize himself with every inch of your skin, “I.. It's possible I have some unresolved anger or something from- After everything that happened. Sometimes it kinda takes over, like tonight, and then I pick a fight I know I can't win, but.. 'm not lying to you anymore. I mean that.”

You nod and his arms curl around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Trapped in his embrace, you can't do much more than grind on him with slow swivels of your hips, the head of his cock rubbing at that spot on your inner wall that has your brows pulling together in pleasure.

He's so close like this. His chest hair drags against your bare breasts and your tummies are pressed together and the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own. You feel warm — in the physical sense, yes, but also in your stomach, in your bones, in your heart.

“I love you.” Steve says with emotion, like he's feels that warmth too.

Your eyes prickle a little traitorously, fingers toying with the soft ends of his hair, “I love you,” You manage in a choked gasp, “I love you.”

“Ho- Shit..” Steve groans, chin tipping up toward the ceiling for a moment as he throws his head back, “You feel so fuckin' good, honey.”

“Y'r cock feels good,” You pant in response, “So good. So big. I- Fuck.”

“So tight,” He mutters, sitting up a little straighter to meet every roll of your hips, “So perfect. 's like you were fucking made for me, you know that? Take me so well. You were made for this, for me-”

The way that your clit is rubbing against the thatch of hair on his pelvis has you a little dumb already, and his lust-fueled rambling only intensifies your budding orgasm, both of your thighs slick with how fucking good it feels to have him inside of you again. You nod in agreement to his words and manage to give a small whimper, but it seems that he's not done yet.

“-Missed this so much. Missed you, missed this.. Fuck. Honey, I love you. I love you. I-”

“Steve,” You whine, “Love you too.”

His tanned cheeks have gone a little pink beneath the dusting of bruises on his face, breathy groans fanning out past his busted lip. The pretty little noises of pleasure that he can't seem to hold back have you reeling, your gut twisting with heat at the sight of him, the sound of him.

“So goddamn wet for me, honey,” Steve grumbles, his voice catching in a way that has your cunt clenching down on him, “Listen to her. You hear that?”

You do. There's a lewd squelch emitting from the place where you're joined, the sound filling the otherwise quiet apartment every time that your hips roll at just the right angle. It happens again just then, his cock stretching your hole wide enough for the drag of slick and air to create a mildly embarrassing noise that has Steve giving another needy groan, his hips bucking up into yours.

“God, fuck, please tell me you're getting close,” He nearly whimpers, lifting up off of the couch to drive up into you again, “Please, I'm getting so close, babe. Need you to come.”

Euphoria licks up your spine in a white-hot flame, your weight bearing down that much harder to apply more pressure on your puffy clit. Sweat trickles down your spine, disappearing beneath Steve's forearms where they're looped tight around you.

“Mhm,” You hum, the sound catching in the back of your throat, “M'gonna come, Stevie. Y'r gonna make me come.”

Your hips roll a little faster and Steve continues to buck up into you, his cock pressing so, so nicely against the spot that has your brain whiting out a bit at the edges.

“Come on, sweet girl. Come for me,” Steve moans, warm breath fanning out over your lips, “Please, honey. Please come on my cock. Shit, I need it. Need you t' come, please.”

“I am, I am, I am,” You babble desperately, “M'gonna, fuck, fuck, 'm-”

The knot of pleasure in your gut twists sharply and you cry out, face burying in his neck with a whiny gasp as your orgasm crashes over you. Your cunt tightens and trembles around him and a deliciously choked sounding moan tears past Steve's lips as he finally lets his own release wash over him.

The warmth of his come coating your insides has you fluttering around him further, your hands grappling restlessly for any part of him to hold on to, his hair, the back of his neck, his shoulders, his biceps. Breathy little whines and gasps and groans tumble from both of you as you ride it out, the trembling tenseness in your muscles releasing all at once as you go limp in his arms.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back to yourself a little, peppering a delicate kiss to that infuriating strip of scar tissue along his throat before you're pushing up with weak limbs to look at the man underneath you.

“Hey.” It comes out in a murmur, a breathless little thing that leaves you feeling kind of silly, but your brain hasn't yet recovered enough to work at its full-capacity.

Steve only grins, his lips curling to reveal perfect teeth, a pretty smile pulling at his busted and bruising lips. His eyes twinkle in the patchy darkness of your living room, a pretty mosaic of brown and gold and speckles of green catching in the light and forcing your heart rate to tick up in adoration.

“Hey, honey.” He returns sweetly, one arm uplooping from around your spine so he can reach up to push the sweaty flyaways back from your face.

You can't help but shift over him, sore legs flexing where they're spread over his hairy thighs, a trickle of warmth leaking out from where you're still joined and dripping down into the thick hair at the base of his cock. It feels dirty and intimate in the best way — his come mingled with your own, your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, his wide palms rubbing softly from your hips to your spine and then back again.

“I kinda want to stay like this forever.”

Your whispered admission has his eyes crinkling softly and he drops his forehead to your chest, his breath fanning out over your breasts as he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“You won't hear any complaints from me.” Steve mumbles into your skin.

You never want to leave this moment. Your nose pushes into his hair and you pull in the familiar melding of scents, of expensive shampoo and hairspray and an underlying smell that's just Steve. You want to stay right here, in this perfectly imperfect bubble, but you feel Steve wince when he burrows his face into your chest just a little too hard and the serenity cracks.

“Steve?” You murmur softly, fingertips scraping gently against his scalp despite the nerves in your stomach.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You steel yourself with a deep breath, “You know I'd do anything to protect you, right? You.. You know that I'll do anything for you.. Know that.. That you can trust me?” It comes out in a rush, and your nerves increase tenfold when Steve pulls back to look at you, “..Right?”

“Honey,” The endearment comes out laced with something sweet and sticky that makes it sound an awful lot like an apology, “Of course I do.”

His eyes are so soft as they flick between your own, his hands smoothing up the length of your spine in a soothing drag of skin on skin. One hand leaves his hair only so that you can trace your thumb over those two wide freckles on the apple of his cheek, a self-deprecating sort of smile pulling at your lips.

“And.. And you're gonna tell me what's been going on with you?” You nearly whisper.

His mouth finds yours to press a featherlight kiss to your lips, “Yeah, honey. No more secrets. No more lies.”

“Promise?” You ask again, lips pulling into a smile where they're still brushing his own. Your faces are so close it's hard to focus on the way his eyes shine with adoration when he looks up at you, the bruises on the bridge of his nose blurring in the darkness.

“Promise.”

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲/𝐧

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✰series✰

honey i’m home - completed

open arms- ongoing

twin flames - hiatus

lilith- ongoing

hide + scream- ongoing

water- completed

teasing- completed

heated- ongoing

choke me bite me- completed

queen of the damned- completed

we’re the last in line- hiatus

✰blurbs✰

love’s never meant much to me

your touch

the raven told me of you

cobbler

forty three below

lie to me

twelve hours

differences

leave me in the dark

someone like you

run

letting someone go

prep school

wanting you

it’s three am

confession

landlord! older! eddie

✰prompts✰

“good girl”/ smut

crush/ smut

cold shower

crunch / angst

idk what to name this one / smut — Rated F for foul

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 

let’s not keep score

at this moment

the ride

[bimbobaggins69]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬.

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: imagine hate sex w ex boyfriend eddie!!! 😖😖😖 like you’re at a party that your good friend robin dragged you to and of course you had to see your ex!! and he catches you with another guys hands all over you and he gets insanely jealous and fucks you in a random room. degrading you, and slapping your ass and shit 😝😝

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, angst, sweet baby steve, mean!eddie, mentions of weed and alcohol, degradation, bitch is used twice, hair pulling, face slapping, choking, slight oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, rough hate sex, cream pie, steve and reader are end game.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: you came through with this nonnie, hope you like <3 omg surprise yall this is not a steddie fic, I know crazy. Thank you to the loml @xxhellfirebunnyxx for reading and hyping me up!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k

The bass booms from the speakers as some top 40s pop hit plays throughout the oversized house. The solo cup in your hand nips at your fingers, the condensation causes them to prune as you babysit the pungent spiked punch that sits halfway full, ice completely melted from your abandonment. 

You didn’t really want to come to this New Year’s party, but Robin begged and pleaded, telling you with her best puppy dog eyes that this could be her last chance to make a move on Vickie, so you bit the bullet and decided to make it a good night, the last of the year. 

In your efforts to forget about your ex boyfriend you had broken up with two weeks ago, you made up your mind that tonight you were going to move on; so you picked out your skimpiest black dress, knee high boots and did your make up and hair to perfection. You knew he’d be there but that was something you were eagerly trying to forget about, you weren’t getting cute for him, no. You weren’t spritzing on the perfume he loved, in an effort to grab his attention. Nope, not at all! 

Robin had left your side the minute you stepped through the door, but you couldn’t be too mad about it, you both had a game plan and she was very dedicated to finally getting the girl she’s been pining after all year. 

You take a sip of your overly spiked drink, not able to hide the distaste as your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunches up in disgust. 

“Yeah, the punch is pretty awful.” A familiar voice says with a chuckle, when you turn your head in an attempt to put a face to it, you quickly realize it belongs to none other than Steve Harrington who’s smirking down at you, eyes roaming your body. Clearly his cocky king Steve persona has accompanied him. 

“Yeah, it tastes like ass.” You say with another scrunch of your nose making Steve cackle at your words. 

“Hey, I’m not even gonna ask how you know what that tastes like.” He says playfully, eyes growing darker as he moves closer into your space. “You’re not here with your little boy toy?” He observes as he looks around for Eddie, who normally held you as close to him as possible at these functions. 

“We broke up.” Steve’s face lights up like a Christmas tree at your words, like he’s excited that you’re now ‘on the market’. 

“Well, I would say sorry but…I’m not.” The bluntness of his words makes you crack a smile, which causes him to beam at you, a genuine pretty smile graces his lips. “You wanna dance?” He asks as he moves in closer, hands going straight to your hips. 

You quickly look around before answering, noticing a heavy amount of bodies on the makeshift dance floor. “Um, sure why not?” You glance around one more time as you feel eyes on you, but no one seems to be paying you and Steve a lick of attention. 

West end girls by pet shop boys begin to play from the heavy booming speakers, and you can’t help but smile hard as it’s one of your favorites. Steve’s hands graze over your hips and the small of your back as you both dance, a serious dance turning into silly attempts to make each other laugh and it works, he’s completely made you forget about your shithead ex. When two of hearts by Stacey Q starts playing you’re both touching each other in ways that are anything but friendly, his hands move to your ass as your hips grind against his. You can’t help but feel the slight hard on behind his blue jeans, the feeling of it on your hip has you biting at your glossed lip. 

It was easy to lose yourself to the beat of the music and in the gentle, sweet touches of Steve’s soft hands, the total opposite of Eddie’s rough calloused ones. 

“You’re so beautiful,” the former jock whispers into your ear, and his words have your heart pounding and your thighs begging to clench. “I always thought so.” He finishes before pulling you even closer, arms wrapped snug around your body. 

As the music slows and holding back the years by simply red begins to play, Steve grabs your hips a little rougher, looking down at you with a smile full of longing. He moves in and your breath hitches, thinking he’s moving in to kiss you but instead he places a chaste kiss right on the side of your neck, it's sweet and gentle, just like him. It’s not something that you’re entirely used to, not something you normally enjoyed. But maybe something you need. 

When the song ends you pull away with a small smile, “I have to use the restroom really quick, I’ll be back okay?” His smile falters a bit but doesn’t drop completely, he shakes his head and places his hands in his pockets, moving closer to the couch so he can sit and wait for you. The whole display pulls at your heart strings and makes your feet move faster across the hardwood floor, so you can get back to him quicker. 

But once you enter the dark hall, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and pull you. You squeak out a scream and a hand covers your mouth, but before you can lash out and begin kicking and screaming; a very, very familiar set of brown eyes meet yours. 

“Shut up.” Eddie hissed as he closed the door to some random bedroom, locking it before you can even wrap your head around what’s going on. “You havin’ fun out there with your little friend?” The anger in his voice is prevalent as he looks you up and down and shakes his head, as if he has any right to be disappointed. 

“Yeah, actually I was having a great time until you came along.” You seethe before turning to wrap your hand around the doorknob. 

“Wait, can we talk, please? Cmon sweetheart, this is killing me. I miss you.” His big doe eyes are dilated and you can smell the weed on his leather jacket, and the remnants of it on his hand that had been placed over your mouth five seconds ago. 

“You’re high Eddie. Don’t you have other girls to bother?” You say, rolling your eyes before a sneer graces your futures.  

“I told you, she’s a friend. She supports the band's music, that's it! I’ve never fucked her, baby. I swear.” His big eyes look so inviting and honest but you know what you saw, they were flirting and he looked way to into it for it to be friendly. 

“Whatever, who cares anymore. Can I leave?” You say with a bitter taste in your mouth for this conversation, you’re done and you just want Eddie to leave you alone so you can get back to your fun night with Steve. 

“No, you can’t.” He says before his hands move to your hips, “if this is it, let me have you one last time princess, please?” His fingertips dig into your skin hard, it makes your legs twitch and your panties start to dampen. 

“One last time?” You ask as you study his face. 

“If that’s what you want, then yes.” He says as his shoulders slump at the thought of never having you again. 

“Fine, but make it quick. I have someone I want to get back to.” Your stomach sours at the thought of leaving Steve to have sex with your ex. But you don’t really owe anything to Steve, it’s not like you came here together and now you’re ditching him, or like you’re even together at all. That’s enough to have you grabbing and tugging at Eddie’s stupid belt. The way you tug at his clothes and scratch at his skin is very obvious this is going to be a hate fuck, and he’s not mad at the idea. Needing to let out some pent up feelings of having to see you and that fucking square Harrington on the dance floor, all cuddled up and shit. 

He rips your dress over your head, smirking at the site in front of him. No bra, just black lace panties that sit high on your hips. He licks his lips as he takes you in, just your panties and knee high boots. A fucking vision. 

“Get on the bed you little slut.” He orders and a thrill runs through your body at his words “legs open for me, let me see you.” He grunts out another demand before moving in closer, walking up to the bed like a predator ready to pounce on their prey. “Were you planning on fucking that loser?” He asks through gritted teeth at the thought of you underneath Steve as he treats you like a fucking piece of glass. That’s not what you need, not what you want either and he knows that. 

“Not tonight.” You say with a sweet smile, it’s fake and Eddie can see right through it. His big ringed hand comes down and grabs a handful of your hair, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?” His face is now inches from yours as he waits for an answer, teeth clenching together making his jaw tighten with anger.

“I wasn’t planning on fucking him tonight, but if we hit it off, which we were. Then yeah, I’d probably fuck him if we went out again.” You answer back boldly, way too boldly for the man in front of you who has your hair wrapped around his knuckles, his face is the most visibly pissed you’d ever seen him. “You’d really let him touch you? Touch what’s mine?” His lips are just inches from yours, his warm weed breath hits your nose and god, you want to kiss him so bad. 

But you don’t, that’s not what this is about. 

“I’m not yours anymore, remember?” You remind him as your lips pull away from the too close proximity of his, an eyebrow shoots up on your forehead as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’, making Eddie immediately jump into action, ripping your panties off your frame in one quick and rough motion. 

“You will always be mine, no matter what happens between us, I need you to get that through your thick fucking skull.” He grates before slapping your cheek harshly. “My pussy, my ass, my mouth. Mine always.” His fingertips grab and dig into the hollows of your cheeks as he hovers over you between your spread thighs. “Say you understand. Say you’re my little whore.” His fingers dig into you even harsher, making your teeth poke at the skin. You whine in pain, but fuck if you aren’t completely soaked from how rough he’s being with you. 

“I’m your little whore.” You whine, his tight grip on your cheeks doesn’t falter, his mischievous eyes look over your face as he smiles down at you, as if all the love he’d once had dissipated into thin air. 

“That’s a good little slut, knows her place.” He hummed in satisfaction “You gonna keep being good for me, or you gonna be a brat?” His eyebrows shoot up in question as he licks his plump lips. 

“Yes, I’ll be good for you.” He gives one more slap to your cheek before he begins removing his jeans off his hips to drop at his boots, then he removes his blue checkered boxers in one tug. 

He grabs his hard cock at the base as he continues to look over your body, lying useless on the plush bed. “Gotta give it a kiss before you say goodbye, baby.” His grin eats up his entire face as his laugh lines deepen. As if on command you get up onto your knees and duck your head down to kiss and mouth at his leaking tip. You couldn’t lie, you were going to miss this no matter how much of an asshole he was. 

“That’s it. Good little greedy bitch.” His head tilts back on his shoulders as he releases a deep breath. 

Before you can take him fully into your mouth he reaches down and grabs your neck roughly, throwing you back onto the tacky duvet. 

“Didn’t tell you you could suck it. Did I?” His voice is a low rumble, making you heat up from the inside out. 

“Mm-mm.” Is all you can say as he squeezes the sides of your neck, not hard enough to restrict air flow but hard enough to have your eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

“Then be my good little cum dump and listen to what the fuck I say.” He strokes his cock faster, bringing it up to your soaked folds and slapping it against your clit, hard. 

“Fuck!” You cry out before he begins soothing it with soft rubs of his frenulum against your throbbing nub, creating the perfect friction that has you hissing and groaning. 

“Perfect little pussy. You think Stevie can fuck this little cunt like I can? You think he’s gonna give you what you need?” He whispers hotly, cock now prodding at your dripping hole, he pushes in with one quick thrust and sheethes himself more than halfway inside of you, making your legs hike up over his hips and wrap around his back. Most of his clothes are still on, besides his black jeans and blue boxers that are pooled at his ankles. His leather jacket and megadeth shirt still covering all the parts you want to bite and suck on. 

“Answer me! You think Steve can fuck you the way you need to be fucked? Like the filthy slut you are?” Eddie's words get cruder as his voice gets meaner, your lip pouts but he doesn’t miss the way you clench, so warm and tight around him. 

“No, no one fucks me like you Eddie!” You mewl, it’s true but the words feel like molten lava when they leave your mouth, not wanting to give him that ego boost he’s begging for. 

“I’m gonna cum in this cunt and you’re gonna go back out there to your little boyfriend with me dripping down your fucking leg.” He thrusts harder into your walls, grabbing your legs and folding you in half as he uses you like his own personal fuck toy. 

His ringed hand finds its way back in your hair, tugging harshly as he begins kissing your jaw, down to your throat and then the tops of your tits as they bounce from his rough movements. 

“You sexy little bitch.” He pulls your hair harder as his other hand moves between your writhing bodies, he rubs his thumb against your clit fast and with entirely too much pressure but the way his cock is hitting your spot over and over you can’t help but to let go, your high instantly taking over; legs shaking and head thrown back as you succumb to the bliss that Eddie never fails to bring you. 

“Oh fuck! Im gonna fill you the fuck up, so full baby, you’re gonna be so full of me.” He laughs like he’d beat you at whatever game this was, he did. And that thought has you pushing him off as soon as he’s done.

You pull your panties back on and tug your dress up. Giving the metalhead one more death glare before you yank the door open, leaving it to slam behind you. 

You move back out into the crowd of people, looking everywhere for those chestnut locks and honey eyes, as your heart pounds through your ears. You feel terrible, but you just can’t help yourself with Eddie. He knows your body too well, knows exactly how to get you going. But that’s all going to change, no more weakness, no more giving into his bad boy smirk and big dumb eyes. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you okay? Thought you left without saying goodbye.” Steve says as he comes out of the jam packed kitchen. 

“Sorry, I-I um,” you didn’t want to lie, you felt like you owed him the truth at least, especially if this was gonna go anywhere. “I ran into Eddie and we talked.” You look down at your leather boots as the lie falls from your lips, you didn’t want to outright say ‘I’m sorry I fucked my ex while I should’ve been out here with you.’ 

“Just talked?” His eyes find yours, but his face is so kind and earnest, you just want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go. 

“Well, no. But I’m done, this time for good.” You reassure with a nod of your head. 

“It’s okay, I understand. Just I-I really like you, and I have for a while. I just wanna be sure what you had with Munson is over before we start something.” He grabs your shoulder and pulls you into his arms. God you could cry from how sweet and gentle he is. 

“It’s more than done, it’s dead and buried.” You murmur into his chest, soaking up his gentle caress.

“You wanna get out of here?” Steve asks, kissing the top of your head as his thumb rubs circles into your back. 

“Yes, please.” You smile up at him before taking his hand in yours and heading to the front door.

Your eyes lock with Eddie’s for a minute too long, and the look on his face is a mixture of triumph and deep jealousy.

A girl sitting to his left whispers something in his ear, causing you to instantly look away. 

He’s not your business anymore. 

[phefics]

How do you think the stranger things boys would react to reader asking them to wear her purity ring on a chain / piece of jewelry after they take her virginity? (love ur fics btw!! <33)

hi!! ty for the request and sweet words <33 i only write for eddie, hopper, and steve, so i hope that's cool/what you meant, and i hope you enjoy!!

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 would be super into it, especially if you are more of a preppy girl, like a cheerleader or just an overall goody-two-shoes/girl-next-door kind. his corruption kink is pretty lowkey, but it is definitely there. he proudly wears your purity ring on a chain that sits right next to his guitar pick necklace, and he constantly fiddles with it, especially when you're around, like a subtle reminder/tease.

𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 isn't big into the possessive stuff, especially if you two have an age gap, it makes him feel a little weird. plus, he's so big, he doubts your ring would fit on any of his thick fingers. maybe he'd wear it on a necklace, tucked under his shirt, if you asked. or maybe he'd just keep it, in the drawer of his bedside table, like a little keepsake.

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 would do it in a heartbeat. he also isn't huge on the whole "i took your virginity" thing, but he loves the fact that you're his girl. he doesn't normally wear jewelry, but he'd make it work, and when people ask him what it is, he'll smirk and say, "it's my girlfriend's." when he fucks you, the chain dangles in front of your face, the cool metal tickling your skin.

[faerieroyal]

𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘’𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 !

— ❥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 + 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

( warnings: mentions of scars )

you wake up, as always, to the feeling of strong arms wrapped around your waist, warm breath on your neck, and soft hair tickling your cheek. slowly peeling your eyes open - a feat of sheer willpower on the best days, but especially on this rare weekend day that both you and your boyfriend have off - you blink in the soft light coming through your bedroom curtains, allowing your vision to adjust to working again after hours of sleep.

after the blur of drowsiness has faded, you crane your neck slightly downwards, taking in the absolutely precious sight that awaits you. steve - your boyfriend, your stevie - is still fast asleep, his face halfway tucked into the crook between your neck and shoulder. his famous hair is obscuring one of his eyes, some bits on the top of his head brushing against your face, and the cheek resting on your skin is smooshed up, his pink lips parted as he breathes.

you’ve always insisted that your boy looks his best when he’s sleeping, a statement that always makes his cheeks turn pink and his smile go shy, but right now, you think, it’s never been more true. steve looks absolutely cherubic at this moment, with the soft light from the window making the lighter parts of his hair shine and his face peaceful and open in a way it only ever is when he’s asleep. he’s beautiful, a picture of rest and serenity, the kind of image you’re sure any artist would want to make a masterpiece out of the instant they see it.

it’s a massive shame that you have to go and ruin it.

“steve,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low so as not to wake him up too abruptly. reaching up with the arm not held down by the weight of his head, you start to card your fingers through his soft hair, scratching his scalp lightly in that way you know he loves. “stevie, c’mon, wake up.”

it takes about a minute of ministrations and soft whispering, but eventually, steve stirs, not opening his eyes quite yet but letting out a soft, questioning hum, a heavy sound still loaded with sleep.

“i gotta use the bathroom, stevie,” you whisper to him, scratching his head a little harder than you normally would - not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt, but enough to keep him from drifting back off. “you’ve gotta move off me so i can go.”

“nooooo,” he whines, weakly squeezing his arms tighter around your waist and snuggling impossibly closer, his movements sluggish. “don’ go, stay.”

you chuckle softly. your stevie may be a touchy person pretty much all the time, always wanting to have his arm around your waist or his hand in yours when the two of you are out in public and always wanting you sitting on his lap pressed close to him when you’re by yourselves, but he’s clingy when he’s asleep or just woken up. you’ve often joked that he reminds you of a koala when he’s like this, all soft and hugging close to you like you’re a tree he’s trying to keep his grip on. he always playfully pouts when you make comments like that, but right now, as you’re trying to get out from being half under him, you’re struck by how accurate that observation actually is.

“steve,” you say softly, removing your hand from his hair to gently hook your fingers around one of his wrists and attempting to pry his arm off of you. he whines again, this time without words, but doesn’t protest any more than that as you lay his limp arm on his own side and carefully slide your shoulder out from under his head.

“i’ll be right back,” you assure him as you throw back the covers and wiggle out of bed, “promise.”

your boy doesn’t answer, seeming to have already fallen back asleep when you look back at him, but you still hurry in the bathroom, scurrying back into the bedroom and back under the covers less than three minutes after you left them. steve still doesn’t open his eyes, and for a second you think he’s well and truly gone back to sleep, but then his arm snakes back around your middle and pulls you close, putting you right back in the spot you’d been in when you’d woken up as he tucks his face back into your neck.

“so clingy, stevie,” you tease softly, twisting your head just enough to brush your lips across his forehead. you speak into his soft skin, a smile just slightly quirking the corners of your mouth. “we’re gonna have to get up eventually, y’know. just to eat ‘n all that.”

“n’right now,” he mumbles, plush lips tickling your shoulder as he speaks the same way his hair is ticking your face. “jus’ wanna hold you for now. wanna feel you an’ cuddle for a bit b’fore we gotta get up.”

and he pulls you even closer as he says that, which you hadn’t even thought was possible, like he’s trying to actually pull you inside of him, to fuse your bodies into one being so he never has to let you go again. and his words are so sweet, so sincere and perfect and so utterly steve, that you think you’d actually really like to do that - to tuck this boy inside of your rib cage, to keep him safe and keep him forever by having him as close to you as humanly possible.

but until science progresses enough that you’ll be able to do that without destroying both of you in the process (not that you wouldn’t, you think, destroy yourself to keep your stevie safe and protected), you settle for finding the raised lines littering your boyfriend’s torso under the sheets, gently running your fingertips along the scars from everything he’s been through, everything you’d give the universe to keep him from going through again - a gentle gesture of pure love, a silent vow of warmth and protection.

“okay, stevie,” you whisper, taking your lips off of his forehead but continuing your gentle touches to his scars, allowing yourself to focus on your boyfriend’s quiet breathing and the warmth of his body pressed so, so beautifully close to yours. “we’ll stay here for a little bit longer.”

you can tell he’s fallen back asleep before you’ve even finished speaking, but his hold around your body barely loosens - he clings to you, always wanting to feel your skin against his own, even in sleep. you don’t let go of him either, of course; you don’t fall back asleep yourself, but, you think in the soft morning light of your bedroom, holding this beautiful, strong boy in your shared bed, of it were up to you, you’d never let him go.

stranger things taglist: @mictodii, @whiskeyswriting, @lovings4turn, @dancingwith-sunflowers, @xoalexandrarose ! ( also going to tag @ghostlyfleur 😘 )

general taglist: @maddipoof, @thatmagickjuju, @talkingturnedtoscreamss, @malafvma, @auxiliarydetective, @heliads, @oneirataxia-girl !

( send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist !! )

[buckleysbitch]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 ⊹˚. ♡

reqs are OPEN!

note - reblogs and comments keep this account going! if you like what you read, please don’t hesitate to share ♡

18+ under the cut

𐙚 “babe what did you get for #4”

𐙚 “okay how about #5”

𐙚 definitely majoring in business or communications with a minor in journalism

𐙚 2 am fast food runs

𐙚 including deliriously listening to queen and trying to sing bohemian rhapsody to no avail

𐙚 despite that he has a knack for the guitar

𐙚 learning your favorite songs on guitar and always whipping them out at the most ridiculous times

𐙚 often during high stress study sessions

𐙚 “♫ and if a double decker bus crashes into us ♫”

𐙚 “I SURE HOPE IT DOES STEVE”

𐙚 eventually moving into an apartment together

𐙚 you load laundry, he folds

𐙚 adventures to the local record store

𐙚 never getting up for those 8 ams

𐙚 board game + wine nights with robin and eddie

𐙚 he always insists on pouring your wine for you

𐙚 falling asleep on the couch and floor respectively face first into your homework

𐙚 eventually he wakes up in the middle of the night and groggily carries you to bed and tucks you in

𐙚 his messy hair when his alarm doesn’t go off so he quickly gets ready for classes

𐙚 going to frat parties and giving the good old irish goodbye after an hour

𐙚 dancing with him at parties bye bye bye GRINDING ON HIM AT PARTIES?? i’m deceased

𐙚 poor baby can’t keep his cock in his pants after that and you’ll have to blow him in the car

𐙚 but it’s okay because he was secretly fingering you an hour ago during the smoke sesh

𐙚 will drive you anywhere you please even though you have your own car

𐙚 grocery trips with steve!! i am so unwell

𐙚 you definitely met bumping into each other (literally) in the library, very very cliche and cute

𐙚 he memorized your coffee order insanely quickly and always brings you one to your library dates

𐙚 drunken open mic nights >>>

𐙚 “holy shit dude i swear i saw a ghost over by the law section”

𐙚 “steve….that’s professor higgins…how many coffees have you had?”

𐙚 “….”

𐙚 weed and wine > beer and liquor

𐙚 getting high off your asses together and laughing at book names in the library

𐙚 cleaning you up and cuddling in bed after accidentally having a tad too much to drink

𐙚 a GIANT rock on your finger by senior year <3

[kissitbttr]

⭒ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 ⭒

eddie sucking his gf’s tits for the first time

eddie wishes you could see yourself the way he sees you

pervy eddie jerks himself off watching you strip

you comfort him when he gets insecure

let's take a peek at your meet cute with eddie

⭒ 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⭒

she's violent but only nice to him

how they met

first blowjob

skinny dipping during school's camp

her mom loves eddie

he puts hickies on her booty

first fight part 2 part 3

eddie senses something wrong after the fight

moodboard [SOON]

+

⭒ 𝐨𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 ⭒ SOON

+

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 <𝟑

[veryberryjelly]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞

[venuslore]

ᰔ 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 ᰔ

[strangerstilinski]

𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It’s like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

“Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you are hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and the boy's chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I don't think any of us were that invested hearing you talk about the ‘big tip’ that some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve, c'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugged, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet. It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just 'cause you're a jackass that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you as the rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“Well I don't care if some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “So, I guess, if that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, and I'm able to do so without acting like a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? That was the highlight of your day, because the rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. You'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks squelching wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd burned yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had no choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what? Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the turn in your evening.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, like he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm still struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

Steve's voice does make you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around. Your steps finally come to a stop when he calls out to you again.

“C'mon, honey wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath as he finally catches up with you, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that’s begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back around. You lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. There’s warmth seeping into your palms from beneath Steve’s tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from inside. Your eyes are level with his chin, wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You’re still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly.

It’s only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face smelling of the gum he’s always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he’s leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can’t think, and you’re not sure you’re even breathing, but his lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You’re gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve’s arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when your lips separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you’re gasping comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve’s quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the back of your neck.

“You kissed me.” The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — casual, tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he’s kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve’s breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D’you want me to stop?”

“No. Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The light shining above your heads catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to shut you up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it takes ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It’s like there are hearts in his eyes.

[ghostlyfleur]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬.

fluff ౨ৎ angst ♤ smut ♡

artist’s soul (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

swiftie boyfriend (fem!reader x modern!steve) ౨ৎ

dollification (fem!reader) soft dom!steve ౨ৎ

his soft girl (shy!girly!reader) ౨ৎ

study dates (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

steve desperately wants to be in love (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

self help (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

his sweet girl (shy!innocent!reader) ౨ৎ ♡

pretty passenger princess (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

gifts (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

romantic summer getaway (latina!reader) ౨ৎ

sweet boy (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

hopeless romantic (fem!reader) ౨ৎ ♡

steve’s angel (shy!reader) ౨ৎ

lover (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

steve is yellow (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

soft spot (mermaid!reader) prince!steve ౨ৎ

rambling boyfriends (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

tattoos (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

pen pals (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

first times (virgin!reader) ౨ৎ ♡

work kisses (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

greater purpose (shy!anxious!reader) ౨ৎ

steve is desperate in his affections (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

love languages series:

love languages: touch (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

love languages: baking (shy!fairy!reader) ౨ৎ

love languages: gift giving (shy!reader) ౨ৎ

tiny thoughts / one sentence imagines:

giddy (fem!reader) ౨ৎ

quiet baby (shy!reader) ౨ৎ ♡

[keerysteacake]

Crowded Court

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐄/𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬.

𝐖𝐂: 𝟏.𝟐𝐤

𝐀𝐍: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 🥰

It was game night in Hawkins, Indiana.

You sat near the center of the bleachers, shoulder to shoulder with other spectators as they cheered the high school men's basketball team on to the final game of the season. It was a high stakes game, if they won this, they were going into playoffs.

Your eyes were cemented on the beautiful, but sweaty, brown hair of your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. He was standing with his back to you along the side of the basketball court, hands on his hips as he watched the opposite team score a basket. The crowed let out a unanimous groan upon watching the opponents score.

Steve had been particularly nervous for this game. Losing their last game put more pressure on them to win the current one. If they didn't they would miss the playoffs for the first time in two years.

Now trailing by just a couple points with a minute and a half left in the game, the tension within the gymnasium was suffocating.

You heartbeat quickened as you tore your gaze from Steve and glanced at the clock. It was now or never, they had to score again. The nerves within you buzzed wildly causing your chest to feel tight and your hands balled tightly into fists as the ball came into Hawkins' possession again.

Steve was now on the court, bounding rather majestically across the floor to assist in a play. The clock continued to run out of time as it entered under the one minute mark.

"Come on, come on..." you mumbled as you watched the players move.

The ball was tossed to Steve which made your heart leap. Your jaw dropped slightly as you watched him. A couple players from the opposing team suddenly crowded towards him, causing Steve to look around frantically, tossing the ball to another Hawkins teammate.

If a completely crowded room could fall silent, this was the moment. The entire gymnasium watched as the ball left the players hand and soared towards the basket. The ball hit the rim of the basket twice before sinking into the net. Simultaneously, there was a roar from the crowd. The Tigers win with fourteen seconds to spare!

You screamed with joy and began high-fiving the strangers around you. As the team began to celebrate there was a swarm of spectators entering the court to join in on the celebrations.

The bleachers seemed to drain within seconds. You frantically searched the sea of people hoping you could spot Steve. It was a jumbled mess on the court, all you could do was head down the bleachers and hope to run into him at some point.

As you entered the court, you were easily jostled around due to your short stature. People shouted, jumped around, and celebrated wildly. A few players could be spotted here and there but they weren't Steve. With a moment as joyous as this, you yearned to be in your boyfriend's arms, telling him how proud you were and how happy you were for the whole team.

You eyes darted frantically around the mess of people, growing more and more frantic to find Steve. A few students you recognized would turn to you and give you a fist bump or high five, knowing how important this game was to the team. You reciprocated with a quick smile before returning to your ongoing searching.

After what felt like forever, you turned to your left to see a few students move out of the way revealing the King of Hawkins High searching the crowd, seemingly just as frantic as you.

Steve's head was on a swivel as he turned left and right, then left and right again. A small smile was imprinted on his lips, he couldn't not be happy in this moment, but he wasn't as happy as he could be. To Steve, the celebrating was all for naught until he had you in his arms.

"Steve!" you shouted above the constant roar of celebration.

To your luck, the handsome boy picked up on your voice above the crowd and he turned to his right, eyes locking on yours. His face softened, obvious relief that he finally found you. That beautiful and infectious smile of his grew in size as he took several steps forward before scooping you up into his arms.

You squealed in delight as you placed your hands on his shoulders while he twirled you around in a tight circle, his arms firmly wrapped around your waist.

"You did it babe!" you exclaimed, your forehead resting against his must sweatier one.

"Playoffs baby!" Steve cheered, a happy laugh followed the statement.

He concluded twirling you around and firmly pressed his lips against yours, soaking in every second of the kiss, he had craved it ever since the final buzzer sounded. You reciprocated, resting your left hand against his cheek.

"I'm so damn proud of you." just saying the words caused your voice to waver with emotion. You knew how hard he practiced with the team to get to this point, he stressed over this game for the last week, and it all paid off.

Steve's eyes glistened upon hearing your statement, he looked so gorgeous in that moment you wish you could have snapped a photo. Sweat beads dotted his face, three strands of his hair now hung over his forehead from the many times he had fussed with his sweaty hair, and his smile seemed to consume the entire lower half of his face.

"You are my biggest cheerleader, I couldn't have done it without you." he gushed.

A small scoff left your mouth as your lips closed over your teeth, opting for a closed mouth smile. "Oh don't say that, your hard work is what got you through this."

Steve set you down on your own feet, his arms loosening around your waist but never leaving your midsection. "I'm serious," his expression became sincere. "yeah I practiced like hell but I didn't think we'd win this last game. I thought we were done for. But you told me all week not to give up and to put my everything into this game, and I did. Now we're going to the damn playoffs!"

Unable to hide the joy in hearing his words, your smile widened once again and you looked towards the floor, not wanting him to pin his success on you.

"When I say I couldn't have done it without you, I mean it. You're the secret weapon to my success." Steve placed his index finger under your chin, slowly bringing your gaze back to him.

The two of you locked eyes and you just about melted. If there was a heaven on earth, you could have sworn it was when you looked at your boyfriend. Steve always gave you the utmost loving and wholesome feelings that had a way of causing the rest of the world to just fade away.

"I love you." you said feeling your cheeks flush with heat.

"I love you more." Steve answered without the slightest hesitation, a cheesy smile tugged at his lips as he spoke.

Leaning down to kiss you again, you raised yourself up on your tip toes to meet him half way, lips colliding in a passionate and slow kiss that said so much with zero words spoken.

The court was crowded, but as far as you and him were concerned, you were the only two out there.

[bimbobaggins69]

𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you realized the moment you met him that he was the one, your person; but when a well known rockstar rolls back into town and begins frequenting the library you work in, you two grow an unforeseen connection, only for past secrets to be revealed and completely throw your fairytale love story for a fucking loop, although maybe that’s not a bad thing?

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this series is 18+, eventual smut, angst, past secret relationships, internalized homophobia, break ups(not with reader), heartbreak, cursing, mentions of drugs, recovering from drug use, more tbd.

𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 (coming soon)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 (coming soon)

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. (tbd)

[remuslovebot]

𝐵𝑖𝑜 | ❤︎︎

☞ MASTERLIST

☞ SPOTIFY

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞

𝐚𝐠𝐞: 𝟐𝟏

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 : 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 : 𝐬𝐡𝐞 / 𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐟𝐬: 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧, 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 : 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲, 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐚, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬: 𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐞, 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞, ��𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐣𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 : 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

[bale!bruce wayne x reader]

[felix catton x reader & jacob elordi x reader]

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖! [𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 : 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭, 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐲, 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐜, 𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐱, 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞, 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 <𝟑