˖ ֹ੭୧ 𝐂.𝐑.𝐌 ⊹ ࣪ ⑅

something in me wants more, i can’t rest

[dottedluv]

⤷ ゛@ dottedluv ’s intro ˎˊ˗

𓂃۶ৎ 𝓒assiopeia / 𝓡ayne

𓏲 writer / 8teen / any/all 𓂃 ⊹ pr𝔦nc͟e͟s͟s͟

x reader centred blog ۶ৎ REQUESTS OPEN.ᐟ ִ ᭥

M.LIST ᰔ RULES

do not copy, translate, or plagiarise any of my work

𓂃 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎★‎ ‎ have a lovely day <3 ۪ ݁ 𝟷𝟷 : 𝟷𝟷 ݁ ۪ ୧

[firelilyfox]

Lessons in Love

Pairing: teacher Steve Harrington x shy female reader

Summary: You are the new teacher at the Hawkins middle school and Steve notices you immediately. He can’t help but falling for you.

Warnings: shy reader. pet names. flirting. mocking (in a sweet kinda way). yearning. no use of y/n.

___________________

The first thing Steve Harrington notices about you is that you look lost.

Not someone call the authorities lost. Just standing in the middle of the darkened hallway at Hawkins Middle School after sundown with a stack of papers in your arms and the expression of someone who took one wrong turn twenty minutes ago and has been too stubborn to admit it ever since.

Honestly? Kind of adorable.

Steve watches through the glass doors for a second after leaving the baseball field, still carrying a crate of sports equipment against his hip.

The school’s mostly dark by now except for scattered classroom lights glowing warm against polished floors.

You disappear around the corner and Steve frowns slightly. Who the hell is still here this late?

He steps inside, letting the door shut behind him with a heavy clunk. The hallway echoes quietly.

Somewhere farther down, papers rustle. Steve follows the sound automatically. And then you suddenly step out of one of the classrooms directly into his path.

Both of you scream, papers fly absolutely everywhere.

“Oh my God!” you gasp, clutching your chest.

Steve nearly drops the equipment crate. “Jesus Christ ... sorry!”

You stare at each other in horrified silence for one beat. Then simultaneously burst into laughter. The tension breaks instantly.

“Oh no,” you groan, crouching quickly to collect your papers. “That was so embarrassing.”

Steve drops beside you automatically to help. “No, no, I think I screamed louder.”

“You absolutely did.”

“That feels false.”

You laugh again. And Steve’s kinda done for already.

Because you’re wearing this oversized university hoodie with your hair thrown into a messy bun that’s definitely halfway collapsed after a long day, and you scrunch your nose while you frantically gather worksheets from the floor.

Cute. Unfairly cute.

“You new here?” he asks, handing you a paper upside down.

You take it with a soft snort. “Yeah. History department.”

“Ohhh.” Steve nods seriously. “So you’re the brave soul replacing Mr. Jenkins.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Was he awful?”

Steve winces dramatically. “He once showed a documentary from 1973 for three straight classes because he forgot where he left his lesson plans.”

You laugh so suddenly and brightly that Steve actually forgets what he was about to say next. It echoes softly through the empty hallway. Warm and easy.

God.

“Good to know the bar’s low,” you say.

Steve grins. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

You tell him your name. And maybe Steve’s imagining it, but he swears something soft shifts in your expression when he repeats it back to you.

The next morning, he sees you again immediately. Mostly because you walk directly into a classroom door. Not hard but just enough to make Steve choke on his coffee trying not to laugh.

You whip around instantly, mortified. “You saw nothing.”

“I saw a tragic betrayal by architecture.”

“You’re annoying already.”

“And yet you’re smiling.”

Your face goes pink immediately. Steve beams for the rest of first period.

After that, it starts happening constantly. Little collisions. Tiny moments. You in the teachers’ lounge muttering furiously at the copy machine while Steve tries very hard not to laugh.

Steve walking into your classroom during lunch only to find you passionately ranting to an entirely empty room about medieval political propaganda.

“You know nobody’s in here, right?”

You nearly launch your yogurt spoon across the room. “Steve!”

“What?” he laughs. “You were waving your arms around like a history wizard.”

You point the spoon at him threateningly. “The Tudor dynasty was deeply fascinating.”

“I believe you,” he says solemnly. “You looked extremely emotional about it.”

And that’s the thing. You’re quiet around most people. Shy in staff meetings. Soft-spoken around parents. Nervous when too many teachers gather in the lounge at once.

But alone with Steve? You talk. And talk. And talk.

About history. About books. About weird historical facts that apparently keep you awake at night. And Steve listens to every single word like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.

Because honestly? When you get excited, your whole face lights up.

You stop fidgeting. Stop second-guessing yourself. Stop shrinking.

And Steve thinks it might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

One afternoon he finds you sitting cross-legged on your classroom floor surrounded by papers.

“You alive in here?”

You look up with the exhausted expression of someone three grading assignments away from losing consciousness. “Debatable.”

Steve steps inside holding two vending machine coffees.

Your eyes immediately soften. “Oh, you’re my favourite person.”

His heart does a stupid little somersault. “Oh yeah?”

“You brought caffeine. That’s basically romance.”

Steve almost walks directly into a desk.

And then suddenly it’s the winter ball. The gymnasium glows with cheap fairy lights and crepe paper decorations while middle schoolers scream and sprint around fueled entirely by sugar and chaos.

Steve’s been assigned supervision duty near the snack table. You’re helping chaperone near the dance floor. Which mostly means repeatedly telling twelve-year-olds not to climb things.

“This feels less like education and more like wildlife management,” you mutter as Steve joins you.

“You’re doing great.”

“I just confiscated six Pixy Stix from one child.”

Steve gasps dramatically. “You monster.”

You laugh tiredly. God. There it is again. That warmth blooming in his chest every time he makes you smile.

A slow song starts playing unexpectedly. The kids immediately react with horror.

“EWWWW.”

“THIS IS GROSS.”

“WHY ARE THEY PLAYING OLD PEOPLE MUSIC?”

Steve snorts loudly. You hide your laugh behind your hand. And then without really thinking Steve holds out his hand toward you.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Oh?”

“C’mon,” he says softly. “One dance before someone throws punch at a seventh grader.”

You glance around nervously. The gym is still chaotic. Nobody’s paying attention.

Still ... “You serious?”

Steve smiles gently. “Very.”

Your face turns pink immediately. But after one tiny hesitant second you place your hand in his and Steve swears his heart physically stumbles.

He leads you behind the stage curtain where the lights are softer and the noise dulls into distant muffled music.

Private and hidden. Your hand still rests in his.

“You know,” you murmur shyly as he settles one hand carefully at your waist, “I haven’t danced with someone since high school.”

Steve grins softly. “Lucky me, then.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too hard for it to work properly. Slowly, you start swaying together beneath dim golden light while the song drifts softly through the curtain.

And Steve’s pretty sure this is what hope feels like. A shy history teacher in an oversized cardigan looking up at him like she can’t believe he’s real either.

“You smell like chalk dust,” he murmurs teasingly.

You gasp quietly. “Rude.”

“And mint.”

Your expression softens immediately. Steve’s chest tightens.

“You notice weird things,” you whisper.

“Only about you.”

The words slip out naturally. Honest. And suddenly the space between you changes. The air turns softer somehow. He watches your eyes flick briefly to his mouth. Then back up again.

Nervous an a little hopeful.

“Steve,” you whisper.

Steve’s hand tightens slightly at your waist. “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath catches. And then you give him the tiniest nod.

That’s all it takes.

Steve kisses you gently beneath the glow of cheap winter-ball lights while kids scream and laugh somewhere on the other side of the curtain. And it feels so sweet it almost hurts.

Your fingers curl softly into the front of his sweater as he kisses you carefully, like he’s scared to rush this. Like he understands that some beautiful things need patience.

When he pulls back, both of you are smiling helplessly.

“You know,” you murmur breathlessly, “this is dangerously close to feeling like an eighties movie.”

Steve grins. “Sweetheart, we literally live in the eighties.”

You laugh so hard you accidentally hide your face against his shoulder. And Steve wraps his arms around you instinctively, holding you close while fairy lights glow warmly through the curtain folds around you.

Outside your little hiding place, the gym is loud and chaotic and messy. But here in this tiny corner of warmth and music and shy laughter ... Something lovely begins.

____________________

Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙

STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST

[spderjmz]

still here ꩜ s. harrington

- the morning after a terrible argument, you come down with the worst fever of your life. unfortunately for your dignity, Steve Harrington still loves you enough to play nurse through all of it.

- cw: sicky reader, fight, hurt/comfort, stevie being a sweetie pie >⩊<

no reader description (aka pic is just aesthetic purposes ^^) also inspired over a jeno fic i read a couple yrs ago and thought abt recently... if you know which one pls let me know so i can tag them :p

Steve thinks you and him are cosmically doomed to have the worst timing imaginable.

Exhibit A: the last twenty-four hours.

Yesterday you’d both had the same day off for once, which almost never happened anymore between Steve picking up extra Family Video shifts and you drowning in work all week. You ran errands together, made fun of the kids after they got too worked up from pointless arguments, argued in the grocery aisles over whether to get the E.T or Indiana Jones themed cereal.

It was normal. Easy.

Then somewhere between takeout containers and exhaustion and too many things left unsaid lately, it stopped being easy.

Steve couldn’t even fully remember how the fight started now. Something small. Something stupid. You accusing him of never talking about what he was feeling anymore. Steve snapping back that every conversation lately somehow turned into him doing something wrong.

Then it escalated.

Like it always did when both of you were too tired to communicate properly and too emotional to stop talking.

“You don’t even want to be here half the time,” you’d snapped at him.

Steve looked like you’d slapped him.

“That’s not fair.”

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” you shot back. “You barely look at me anymore.”

Steve ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“Bullshit.”

The second the word left your mouth, you regretted it.

Steve’s expression hardened instantly—not angry exactly, just hurt.

“Seriously?”

But by then both of you were angry enough to keep going anyway.

It ended with Steve grabbing his jacket and slamming your apartment door hard enough to shake the walls while you cried in your kitchen.

Which would’ve already been bad enough.

Except you woke up this morning feeling like actual death.

By noon, your fever had climbed high enough that your teeth hurt. Your throat burned so badly it felt shredded every time you swallowed, and your chest ached from coughing so hard you could barely breathe afterward.

You held out until almost two in the afternoon before finally calling Steve.

Steve showed up thirteen minutes later with medicine, electrolyte drinks, soup ingredients, cough drops, two thermometers because “the other one looked unreliable,” and the kind of worried expression he tried hard to hide whenever he was scared.

He’d barely spoken to you since arriving.

Not mean or cruel.

Just… distant.

Like he was forcing himself to stay calm.

And honestly? You deserved it.

Right now, Steve sat at the foot of your bed with one leg bouncing anxiously while Back to the Future played on your TV. Every few minutes he glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still conscious.

You had spent most of the day curled beneath blankets while he took care of you in silence.

He made soup.

Made you take medicine.

Refilled your water constantly.

Pressed cold washcloths to your forehead.

Cleaned your kitchen while you slept.

He even argued with Robin over the phone because she wanted to come over and “diagnose you dramatically,” and Steve insisted you needed rest.

But he still hadn’t really looked at you.

Not fully.

Not the way he usually did.

And every second of that distance sat heavy in your chest.

You pushed yourself upright slowly, immediately dizzy enough that the room tilted sideways.

Steve muted the TV instantly.

“Whoa, hey.” He stood fast. “What do you need?”

His voice softened automatically around concern despite everything.

Guilt clawed at your stomach.

“Just going to the bathroom” you muttered back.

Steve frowned immediately. “You need help walking?”

The fact that he was still asking things like that after last night almost made you cry on the spot.

You shook your head weakly.

Big mistake.

Your vision swam. Steve noticed instantly, moving closer without touching you yet.

“Easy,” he said quietly.

“I’m okay.”

“You almost fell over.”

“I’m dramatic.”

“No. You’re delirious with that fever you got.”

A weak huff escaped you that turned into coughing almost immediately. Steve’s expression tightened hard at the sound.

Gosh. You hated this.

Hated feeling helpless.

Hated knowing you’d hurt him.

Hated that he was still here anyway.

You shuffled toward the bathroom slowly while Steve watched like he was debating following you in case you collapsed.

Once the door shut behind you, the thin thread holding you together finally snapped.

You sank to the floor beside the sink with trembling hands covering your face.

Everything hurt.

Your body.

Your chest.

Your head.

Your heart.

The apartment felt too quiet without Steve talking to you properly. Every careful movement from him all day somehow hurt worse than if he’d just yelled.

You’d spent the entire morning thinking he was going to leave. That eventually he’d decide last night was too much.

That he’d grab the few things he kept at your apartment—his extra clothes, the Polaroids tucked beside your mirror, the stupid toothbrush he insisted on matching to yours—and walk out.

The thought alone made you nauseous.

A sob tore painfully out of your throat.

Then another.

Your coughing immediately got worse after that, sharp enough to make tears stream harder down your face.

You pressed your forehead against your knees miserably.

You were so tired.

Three soft knocks interrupted your spiraling.

“Sweetheart?”

The nickname nearly broke you.

“Can I come in?”

You couldn’t answer properly through your throat, so you tapped weakly against the floor instead.

A second later, the door opened carefully.

Steve stepped inside quietly before shutting it behind him.

The second he saw you on the floor, his entire face changed.

All the distance from earlier cracked instantly.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Fresh tears burned your eyes immediately.

Steve crouched in front of you carefully, close enough to touch but still giving you room.

“What happened?”

You laughed once weakly through your crying.

“What do you mean what happened?”

Steve’s eyebrows pulled together.

“You were okay five minutes ago.”

“No I wasn’t.”

Your voice came out smaller than intended.

Steve went still.

You wiped at your face angrily. “I feel awful and you’re mad at me and I know I deserve it but I just—” Your throat closed painfully around another cough. “I can’t do this today.”

The second the words left your mouth, Steve’s expression fell completely.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

You looked away immediately, ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked. “About yesterday. I know I was being horrible and dramatic and—”

“Hey.” Steve’s voice turned firm instantly. “Look at me.”

You didn’t want to.

He waited anyway.

Eventually, you forced yourself to lift your head.

Steve looked devastated.

Not angry.

Not cold.

Devastated.

“You seriously thought I was punishing you?”

Your stomach twisted.

“I mean…” you whispered.

“Baby, no.”

The tenderness in his voice hurt worse somehow.

Steve exhaled hard through his nose before sitting fully on the floor in front of you.

“I was trying to give you space.”

“In my own apartment?”

A tiny smile tugged at his mouth despite himself. “You know what I mean.”

You stared down at your hands.

“I didn’t know if you still wanted me around.”

Steve looked genuinely alarmed.

“What?”

“You left.”

His face softened instantly.

“Oh.”

The memory of last night clearly hit him all over again.

Steve dragged a hand down his face tiredly before scooting closer.

“I left because I was angry, and i didn't want to say something that i'd regret..” he admitted quietly. “Not because I wanted to leave you.”

Your eyes burned again.

“I said awful things.”

“So did I.”

“You didn’t mean them.”

“Neither did you.”

That shattered the last of your composure entirely. Another sob escaping before you could stop it.

“C’mere,” Steve murmured immediately.

He reached for you gently this time, hands warm against your arms as he pulled you across the tiny bathroom space until you were practically folded into his chest.

You went willingly. Like your body had spent all day waiting for this exact moment.

Steve wrapped both arms around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while you cried against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again.

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I know that too, baby. I know,” he whispered softly.

You clutched weakly at the back of his shirt.

Steve rested his cheek against your hair.

“I’m sorry too,” he murmured after a moment. “I shouldn’t have walked out like that.”

“You were mad.”

“Still.” His arms tightened slightly. “I hate leaving you upset.”

Your chest ached.

Gosh. You loved him so much. Even when things got messy. Even when neither of you handled things perfectly. Even now, feverish and exhausted and crying on the bathroom floor.

Steve pulled back just enough to look at you.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

You tried to answer.

Ended up coughing instead.

Steve sighed softly. “Okay, that’s enough talking for you.”

Despite everything, you smiled weakly.

“There it is,” he said immediately, relief flickering across his face. “Was wondering where that went.”

“Feel disgusting.”

“You look disgusting too.”

You stared at him in betrayal.

Steve grinned for the first time all day.

“Aw, there you are.”

You managed a watery laugh before another cough interrupted it.

“Okay,” Steve decided, pushing himself to his feet while still holding onto you carefully. “Bed. Now.”

“I can walk.”

“You almost passed out standing up twenty minutes ago.”

“Now you're being dramatic.”

“You almost walked into the wall.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah.”

He guided you slowly back toward the bedroom with one arm around your waist.

The apartment felt warmer now somehow. Like the tension finally dissolved.

Steve got you back under the blankets before disappearing briefly into the kitchen. You heard cabinets opening, water running, the microwave beeping.

When he returned, he carried fresh water, medicine, and one of your hoodies.

You blinked at it.

“Why do I need that?”

“Because you’re freezing and keep stealing my body heat.”

“You say that like you mind.”

Steve snorted quietly.

He helped you sit up long enough to take medicine, making sure you actually swallowed it before handing over the water bottle.

“Good?” he asked.

You nodded tiredly.

Steve adjusted the blankets around you again with ridiculous care before climbing into bed beside you.

The second he settled in, you moved toward him automatically.

Steve opened his arms immediately.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly as you curled into his chest. “There she is.”

You buried your face against his neck weakly.

He smelled like laundry detergent and the peppermint gum he always chewed when stressed.

One of his hands slid slowly through your hair while the other rubbed absent circles against your back.

“You scared me today,” he admitted quietly after a while.

You frowned sleepily against him. “Sorry.”

“You called and the first thing you said was ‘I think I’m dying’. I could practically hear your frown.”

“In my defense,” you mumbled, “I really did think I was in that moment.”

Steve pressed a kiss against your forehead after letting out a light laugh. “I almost ran a red light getting here.”

Guilt surfaced again immediately.

Steve must’ve felt you tense because he nudged your head gently.

“Hey,” he whispered. “None of that.”

“But—”

“No.” His hand moved to your cheek. “We had one bad night. That doesn’t erase everything else.”

Your throat tightened painfully for entirely different reasons this time.

Steve looked down at you carefully.

“I love you,” he said simply. “Even when we fight. Even when you’re stubborn. Even when you accuse me of emotionally cheating on you with Robin because I bought her mozzarella sticks.”

Your eyes widened weakly. “She was flirting with you.”

“She called me ugly twice during that conversation.”

“Ehh. She’s complicated. Playing hard to get.”

Steve laughed softly under his breath. The sound wrapped around you warm as a blanket. Your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

“Sleep,” Steve whispered, fingers tracing gently along your spine.

“You’ll stay?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Steve immediately pulled you closer.

“Try getting rid of me.”

Something in your chest finally loosened completely. You pressed one weak kiss against his collarbone. Steve’s hand stilled briefly in your hair. Then he tilted your chin up carefully and kissed you properly.

Slow.

Warm.

Apologetic in all the ways words sometimes couldn’t quite reach.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“Get some rest, sweetheart.”

For the first time since waking up sick, you actually thought maybe things would be okay again. And tucked safely against Steve’s heartbeat while he held you through the fever and exhaustion and leftover hurt, sleep finally came easily.

like, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated <3

[dottedluv]

i’m such a sucker for sick fics pls keep writing them guys

[dontmentionitseriouslyy]

A Small XRM Update.ᐟ

We are working on the graphics and articles for XRM with @0nlybitt3r4may and @teacup-thoughts now!! We've reached out to most of our authors list that we hope to feature (thank you for those who've responded so quickly!!), and with some luck, we will have our first issue released soon! Hope to see you guys there! 🥳

Thank you to all our participating authors who have trusted us with their work!! A list of them so far:

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 @doublewheelrr

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ @gleekluver

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ @vrsey

✮⋆˙ @pissylivvie

.☘︎ ݁˖ @eviesjournal

｡𖦹°‧ @voidreynolds

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ @bunnyclawzz

♪⋆.✮ @hanwritesthings

˖ ݁♬⋆ @wheresmysally

𐙚⋆°. @dottedluv

₊˚⊹ᰔ @jjscrybaby

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ @vurbenaa

(If you'd like to be involved in any way, please reach out! DMs are wide open, and my discord is dontmentionitseriouslyy_47381)

[whiskey-thorns]

I Got You Babe

Angsty/Fluffy Mickey Altieri x Reader: Reader finds out she's being cheated on, and Mickey looks after her when she comes to his door late at night, a little worse for wear.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of being intoxicated (alcohol) and being sick!

I really wanted to draw some protective and caring Mickey. He and the reader aren't a couple, but there's not so subtle hints that he likes you. (Mickey is also 100% gonna beat the shit outta your ex).

Enjoy!

I Got You Babe

As Mickey sat on his bed, lazily and half-heartedly thumbing his way through his coursework, a knock at his door interrupted him. He tossed the papers to the side with a huff and got up to answer, knowing from the languid knocks that it was his roommate Daniel.

“What?” Mickey asked, despite not caring particularly about his coursework, he was annoyed at the interruption never the less.

“Some chick is at the door for you.” Daniel, in his signature monotone voice, droned, his thumb jutting over his shoulder towards the entrance to their shared living space.

“Well…who is it?” Mickey shrugged and as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his irritation at his spaced-out roommate increasing with every passing moment.

“I dunno man, but fair warning - she seems pretty out of it.” Daniel shrugged his slouched shoulders before taking himself off into the living room to flop onto the couch and resume his video game.

“Great.” Mickey sighed to himself and left the threshold of his room to greet his mystery guest.

His guard went up a little, trying to figure who this mystery ‘spaced out chick’ was, and feared it was a one night stand from months prior, back to restart a situationship.

His irritation ebbed immediately when he saw you, leaning against the doorway. Daniel was right, you did look pretty out of it. Immediately, Mickey came to you, hands outreached to support you as you wobbled in the doorway, the heavy scent of alcohol hitting his nostrils. You had been drinking and boy howdy, had you gone hell for leather on the alcohol it seemed, as without Mickey’s support now, you were probably destined for the cold hard floor.

“Hey, what the hell is going on?” Mickey said softly, trying to catch your gaze as you held onto him as best as you could manage.

You didn’t say anything, just wetly sniffed and shook your head. That was when Mickey saw the mess of tear stains down your cheeks. This was wrong, for you, it was most definitely out of place. You weren’t like this, messy or an idiot with alcohol. You were the pillar of the group, the organiser, the one with your head balanced on your shoulders. The smart one.

Except right now, as it were, you were practically falling apart in his arms.

“C’mon, lets get you inside.” Mickey looked out into the seemingly empty hallway before he carefully gathered you into the dorm room, kicking the door shut with a sock clad foot. “Dan, don’t bother us.” He called out over his shoulder, greeted by a salute from the couch from a seemingly uninterested Daniel.

Mickey walked you into his room, guiding you towards his bed where he turned and sat you down on top. You were otherwise quiet, save for a few gasps and swallows as you kept your head down low to avoid Mickey’s concerned gaze. He knelt down in front of you and reached up to slide his thumb and forefinger under your chin, his digits immediately feeling your gathering tears trickle down into his palm.

“Hey…tell me what’s wrong?” Mickey urged you, tilting your chin for you to reveal more of your face to him. “C’mon…you gotta work with me.” He urged a little further.

After several moments, you swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked several fat tears.

“He…he cheated on me.” You mumbled out, but Mickey caught it. He didn’t say a word, the flicker of anger in his chest prevented him, so you willed yourself to elaborate. “I…I went out with some friends from my dorm, and…and that’s when I saw him…and her” The last part of your sentence came out in an awkward whine as you broke with a sob.

“And…you’re sure they were…together?” Mickey asked, not to be cruel and question your story, but more so to be sure.

“Well, their tongues were certainly friendly with each other.” You sniffed bitterly, teeth gritting together and your face screwing up as you cried.

Mickey leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you, his large hand cupping the back of your head to cradle you against his worn t-shirt. You cried, and cried, and cried. You had most definitely soaked the fabric of his t-shirt with your tears, but Mickey was beyond that right now, he was trying to balance his thoughts and feelings of wanting to stay with you and comfort you, to finding your now ex-boyfriend and beating the living shit out of him.

Thankfully, he opted for the former, and began to brush his fingers through your hair, hushing and hugging you as you tried to regain your hiccupped breathing. You both stayed in that position, you crying whilst sat on the bed with your face hidden into Mickey, and him squeezing your shaking form to his.

“I…I don’t know what I did-“

“Don’t do all that. You didn’t do anything wrong, m’kay.” Mickey immediately interrupted you. “What he did was shitty, and you don’t deserve any of this.” He leaned you back a little to face you.

He felt his heart ache at the sight before him; your face was red, as were your tear-stricken eyes. The corners of your mouth were tugged down in a state of pain and you shook your head, whether it was in denial of his words or the situation, Mickey couldn’t tell.

“It’s not fair.” You breathed, it sounded so small, defeated.

That was what fuelled Mickey’s anger all the more; that your ex had made you feel so shitty. Reduced you to feel so horrid.

“Listen to me,” Mickey said as he got up from his knees to sit beside you, “you are an incredible, funny, smart, beautiful person.” He said, reaching up to move a piece of your hair away from your face. "You didn’t deserve this kinda thing.”

You swallowed and wiped your eyes with the heels of your hands. You could feel Mickey as he began to rest his hand flat against your spine and gently rub against it in a clockwise motion.

“I’m…I’m sorry I came here…like this” You apologised, shaking your head as you gestured to your dishevelled state “I just…I didn’t know where or who to go to.”  

“You don’t ever have to apologise for coming to me for help.” Mickey said, spending a few more moments beside you before he got up from the bed and went over to his wardrobe.

“Mickey?” You croaked as you watched him rifle through his wardrobe.

“You’re gonna put these on and stay the night.” He then instructed, handing you a pair of his flannel pyjama pants and a thick sweater that once upon a time had the logo for a movie on it.

“Mickey…I can’t…I…I-“

“Save that crap” Mickey gently said and shook his head. “You’re gonna stay here.” He said with a finality as he reached down to swipe a tear from your chin and move another hair from your face that was stuck to your damp cheek.

You looked down at the messy bundle of Mickey’s clothes in your lap before looking back up at Mickey with a fresh wave of tears in your eyes. Mickey could sense the thanks you wanted to say, but couldn’t, so he met you halfway and knelt back down to embrace you.

“I’ll let you get changed.” Mickey finally said as he separated from you. “There’s a clean wash cloth and soap in the bathroom too if you wanna-“ Mickey then gestured to his face as he implied for you to wipe your mascara stained under eyes and slightly smudged lipstick.

You just nodded and watched as he left you in his room for privacy. Mickey walked across the living room to the little kitchen space, Daniel still completely oblivious to the comings and goings.

“No loud noise” Mickey said, gesturing to the tv and PlayStation that Daniel was transfixed with. Mickey filled a stolen beer mug with cold water from the faucet and went into the communal cupboard to pluck out a bottle of aspirin. “She’s staying in my room.”

“She okay?” Daniel asked, showing a little more interest and concern as he hauled himself up off the couch enough to peek over the back at Mickey.

“I’ll explain in the morning.” Mickey waved as he strode back to his room and slowly went in.

Immediately, he heard you in the small bathroom, hiccupping and retching. Mickey cursed and went inside to see you kneeling over the toilet. He briskly set down the mug of water and aspirin and scooped up your hair, pulling it away from your face as you vomited.

“Easy, easy.” Mickey reassured, his hand holding your hair whilst the other circled your back and shoulders as you shook. "I got you, I got you baby."

You both stayed there, with him watching over you, for what seemed like hours (though for you it was perhaps the copious amount of alcohol that made time feel skewed). Mickey observed you when you made little to no noise, your head lulling a little from exertion. Carefully, he grabbed a nearby wash cloth and rested your back to his front to reach around and wipe your mouth clean.

“I…was doing my…f-face…and it just happened-“ You said between wipes.

“Shut up and just let me clean you.” Mickey whispered, as he looked over your face and cleaned you up before tossing the wash cloth into the laundry basket. “C’mon, bed.”

At this point, you were practically a dead weight, exhausted physically and emotionally. Thankfully, Mickey managed to haul you to your feet, and move you to his bed. He pulled back his sheets and helped you flop inside, hiding yourself as you felt shame overcome you.

Mickey sighed and felt his heart squeeze at your demeanour. How crushed you felt, was clearly showing outwardly as you tried to shrink inside his bed.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch out there, if you need-“

“No.” You said, looking over your shoulder, eyes glistening. “Please I…I don’t want to be alone.” You clarified, as if ashamed to admit that you wanted him in beside you.

“Okay.” Mickey nodded and softened a little, thankful that you protested his suggestion to sleep away from you.

Mickey took a step to the door to switch the lights off before approaching you. He saw in the dark room, your body filling out a part of his double bed. He knelt down to where he instinctively knew his trash can was, plucking out an empty soda can and crumpled pieces of paper before moving it to the side of the bed in case you needed it in the middle of the night and couldn’t reach the bathroom. He then nimbly crawled over and in behind you.

A few moments passed, Mickey’s eyes catching a glimpse of light coming in from under the door from the living room, and the sound of your laboured breathing. Then, he felt you tremble. Whether it was a new wave of tears, or your body cold and exhausted from the alcohol and sickness, Mickey didn’t know. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms protectively around you as you turned around to face him, and slowly curl into his body, your face pressed firmly to his front once more.

“Mickey.” You mumbled between whines, and Mickey hushed you again.

“S’okay…I’m here.” He said, and pressed his mouth to the top of your head. “Everything is gonna be okay…I’m here.” He whispered, and continued to hold you to his body as you slowly gave in to sleep.

Mickey found sleep a little trickier, on one hand, he felt a strong sense of duty to care for you, to watch over you whilst you rested. And the other half of his mind – he began planning how and when he was going to punch your ex.

But that was tomorrow morning's problem.

[dottedluv]

i’m so obsessed w mickey atm guys..

[luveline]

making Eddie fancy everyone in my fics is less to do with me believing everyone would fancy me and more to do with me fancying everyone who’s nice to me ever

[harringtonsugar]

so fucking obsessed with his perfect nose

[littlebunnybigheartfics]

just a reminder for smut readers to not compare yourselves to what you read. at the end of the day it is porn and it still has tropes and stereotypes like any other.

if you can't go multiple rounds, or if you need more time, or if you have trouble finishing/can't finish at all, if you don't have big breasts or a small waist or birthing hips, if intimacy is intimidating, if you don't like the feel of penetration, if ur a virgin, if it takes more time for you to get wet, if you can't squirt, if you're not short and petite, if you have medical issues that get in the way, if ur a victim of sa or abuse. that is all normal and it does not make you less than. if you don't find a reflection of yourself within stories, that is more than alright. lots of it is escapism and glorified and porn trope adjacent and not a reflection of real life. you are perfect just as you are.♡

[deyageka]

Apocalypse AU + Aftermath of a demogorgan attack that killed Ted and severely injured Karen. Nancy is busy conspiring against the military which forces Mike to step up as the next eldest sibling in taking care of Holly.

Mike would sing for Holly to help her sleep and Will listens in sometimes because he likes the sound of Mike’s voice 💙💛

(More here)

[shardlily]

There‘s actually no doubt about this 😪

[dottedluv]

bro i understand life but i NEED that part 2 yo that one coach steve fic please

hi baby! p2 and 3 r nearly done!! i js finished my last law exam today - i have an 11hr shift tomz so it should be out sunday? ty for reading!! <3

[dottedluv]

pls send me cedric requests while im struggling w this next part of coach!steve pls

[aluviizzz]

WHERE ARE THE CEDRIC DIGGORY FANS

[ilikeblueberryz]

⸺ steve harrington

(none of these works are mine !) — masterlist & dividers credits Disclaimer : all fanfics listed here belong to their respective authors. please check out their profiles for more amazing work! Last update : 09 Jan 2026

[ s ] smut [ a ] angst

(by @yasministration)

୨୧ roll the dice ୨୧ Steve wants you, but you've got a play thing named Nancy Wheeler who does too.

୨୧ ten bucks ୨୧ for the first time ever, you decide to make a deal with your brother and his trusting (bribing) friend mike: if they can get you and steve thirty minutes of privacy, they get ten bucks.

୨୧ 18 month of married life later ୨୧ 18 months after the upside down is destroyed, much life had bloomed in hawkins, including you and steve's married one.

୨୧ the girlification of steve harrington ୨୧ steve harrington is lucky enough to have a girlfriend who cooks for him. other people, however, seem to be really picky about it

(by @luveline)

୨୧ let somebody love you ୨୧ You ran out on Steve almost three years ago in the middle of a sweet fling, but now you’re back in Hawkins, and there’s a little girl on your hip that looks just like him.

୨୧ no title ୨୧ steve asks your toddler for your hand

(by @lovebugism)

[ s ] ୨୧ no title ୨୧

୨୧ please, please, please! ୨୧ when steve struggles to tell you about his feelings, rockin' robin helps him do it through song.

[ s ] ୨୧ no title ୨୧ you and steve find a way to pass the time during a crawl mission.

(by @ellecdc)

୨୧ love line ୨୧

୨୧ a humble descent ୨୧ Steve Harrington x fem!reader who he calls accidentally

୨୧ no title ୨୧ Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader who get caught breaking Dustin's rules

୨୧ take my hand ୨୧ Steve tries his hardest to make a move, but every time he gets close to saying the words, your younger brother Dustin interrupts him. Every. Single. Time. (by @mcrdvcks)

[ s ] ୨୧ i think he knows ୨୧ Eddie accidentally walks in on Steve fucking you in a WSQK storage closet. He thinks he’s doomed to a life of fantasizing over you with the only company of his right hand, until…Steve himself offers him a golden ticket straight to your bed: a threesome. (by @dearwalker)

୨୧ white xmas ୨୧ Being in love with your sister's ex-boyfriend was not in your plans, but you had learned to live with that unrequited love due to the fear of rejection. But would Nancy really be angry with you about that? Would Steve really reject you? (by @foolishcam)

୨୧ oblivious ୨୧ steve has been in love with his best friend ever since they met at tina’s halloween party. from that night on, she became the one constant he could hold onto, the bright spot in the middle of hawkins’ endless chaos. every sweet laugh, every word, every small gesture from her felt like a lifeline, something he had quietly cherished for years. he longed for her in ways he couldn’t admit, craving more than just her friendship… unfortunately she’s oblivious as hell. (by @meadowscarlet)

୨୧ beauty marks ୨୧ waking up on stevie’s chest has you noticing things when you didn’t think you could love him more (by @dottedluv)

୨୧ sweet, woderful you ୨୧ your extremely professional relationship with coach steve may be under investigation by one (1) very observant six-year-old. (by @levanswrites)

୨୧ no title ୨୧ mike realized his parents didn't love each other when he was very young, and he rationalized this as all couples don't love each other. that's until he sees the way steve treats you. (by @formallery)

୨୧ call ut my name ୨୧ No one knows you and your best friend Steve are a thing. In fact, everyone is very much under the impression that Steve is still in love with Nancy. When Nancy calls while Steve is in your bed, you have to keep your secret - and Steve isn’t making it easy. (by @keeryhours)

୨୧ the firts i love you ୨୧ You and Steve were never overly fond of each other…or at least you assumed the feeling was mutual. That was until he confesses how he truly feels in a public restroom after getting interrogated by Russians. (by @imani4reading)

୨୧ long time coming ୨୧ For as long as he knew what love was, Steve Harrington loved Y/N Sinclair. However, Y/N Sinclair takes a little longer to realise her feelings for the Harrington boy.  (by @parkerslatte)

୨୧ no title ୨୧ (by @violetrainbow412-blog)

୨୧ red-handed ୨୧ "a Steve Harrington fanfic with the reader as Lucas’s sister and they had their relationship because Lucas’s mom doesn’t want her dating and they get caught by the Sinclair family?" (by @peterpark3rsgf)

୨୧ no title ୨୧ max hates the way billy treats girls, steve is nothing like billy. (by @formallery)

୨୧ siblings ୨୧ Sinclair!Reader and Steve share a private conversation on the phone that might not be quiet as private as they both think. (by @imaginesrus)

୨୧ alone time ୨୧ you've done a fantastic job at making your home a safe space for the kids, but unfortunately that means your alone time has taken a hit - until you remember you have a secret weapon to getting them away (by @jetblack4real)

୨୧ and then i'm not so blue p1 ୨୧ (by @fickfort001)

୨୧ “is coach steve going to be my new dad, mommy?” ୨୧ (by @missmanlykink)

୨୧ no title ୨୧ (by @moonstruckme)

[dottedluv]

tysm!!

[willelbyers]

the last thing el said to hopper was “i’m not sara.” she gave him back her bracelet. she let him believe she was safe. she never said goodbye to the man who chose to be her father.

she never said goodbye to the mother who took her in when she had nothing, the woman who inducted her into her family with a haircut everyone made fun of but she treasured as her own.

she never said goodbye to the older brother who looked after her in an unfamiliar home, who drove blindly into the desert on the idea of hope that they would find her.

she never said goodbye to her best friend, the only girl who ever took the time to try to understand her, the only girl who wanted to help her learn who she was to herself, the girl whose life she refused to let end before its time.

she never said goodbye to the boys who found her in the woods, the boys who were scared of her at first but who became some of her most trusted friends in the world. the boys who saw her as, yes, a hero, but also as a girl, too.

she never said goodbye to her brother, her twin in everything but genetics, who saved her life as she saved his from the monster who destroyed both their childhoods. she never said goodbye to her real brother, the one who understood her to her core, the one who showed her that the monster was not the family she deserved.

she said goodbye to her sister, after a years-long separation, as she bled out in her arms.

the last thing el said before her final goodbye—to the first boy who ever showed her kindness, the boy who never quite understood her the way she wanted him to but who cared for her regardless—was “i love you.” and she never heard it back.

[dottedluv]

Hello! May I request x coach!Steve x (gn) reader date hc or something like that? I love your work!

hi angel! i currently have a coach steve series in the works here

however, it is fem!reader (single mum, being referred to as mum)

due to this, i’m unlikely to do an drabbles/oneshots/hc’s for coach!steve until that series is over, just because my oneshots are for me a break from my main series

but! keep an eye out, because i’ll defo do some once the series is over!

so sorry anon <3

[dottedluv]

╰⊹ . ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𖥔 ݁ ࣪

(Steve Harrington x reader)

⋮ ⌗ ┆ overview: you and your sons baseball coach have tension you don’t want to name

⋮ ⌗ ┆ tropes: steve harrington x femreader!, single mum reader, reader is lowkey awkward

⋮ ⌗ ┆ warnings: reader had her son (oscar) at 19 making her 25 and steve is 24 (set a year or two after the epilogue) no canon plot but will probably have references in the future, none of the characters moved away, there will be smut in future chapters, i’m british so things may have the british name and others have the american name (i’m trying guys i’m sorry). let me know if you wanna be on the taglist!

⋮ ⌗ ┆ a/n: coach!steve (& sex ed teacher!steve) is the best thing to come out of s5 and i stand by that. ugh he’s sosososoosos. when i saw this post i knew i had to write smut, but i wanted a plot so have a whole series!

It’s gruesome that someone so handsome should care

ꨄ︎ chapter one: Grease & Sparks

ꨄ︎ chapter two: Lemonade for three (coming soon)