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I would've read your love letters every single night - S.H
Steve Harrington x female!reader
Steve falls for a girl he's only ever written toÂ
A/n: pen pals, friends to lovers, Steve calls reader âangelâ
Warnings: 18+, strong language, kissingÂ
Word count: 2.9k
October, 1988
It started in the summer, with a misplaced letter that Steve had to respond to. It was on his doorstep, with no phone number, neatly written for someone else, someone who was not him. So he wrote back, nicely informing the person that they had the wrong address and then she wrote back thanking him for being so kind and then his pen was suddenly in his hand again, writing.Â
Over two months later it was normal for him to get letters from her, they were meant for him now, they werenât delivered wrong, they were always in the right place, right on his door stop. Soft white envelopes with the prettiest handwriting he had ever seen, that smelt like pink flowers he couldn't recall the name of but he would know if he smelt them.Â
Steve had made one or three jokes about her, the girl he was writing to because of some little mistake, being an angel, because half the time he was unsure if she really existed, just like angels.Â
He was desperate to get home, to recount his day on pen and paper, to write down all the jokes Robin told or how there was one customer who spent hours behind the red curtains and how Steve had seen a little white kitten on his drive home that she would've just adored. So he did just that, he wrote down everything he thought she would like to hear, in much messier handwriting, with a few spelling mistakes, not that she ever minded.Â
And a letter came back because it always did.Â
Dear Steve,Â
I think timing someone when they're hiding out behind the curtain is completely reasonable, especially if behind it is exactly what you would find behind a red curtain in a video store, then yes, I think you should time them next time. Just as your letter came I was coming back from a walk through town and I saw a kitten and it reminded me of you, i thought that was silly but seeing you did the same definitely saved me from feeling stupid, it reminded me of that story you told me about your neighbours cat attacking you, though I doubt a cat would attack without its own reasons, you may only be telling one side of the story with that one. Iâm sure it was very cute though, the one you saw, it may have been a sign of luck, or peace or something good coming your way. (Donât make fun of me I know you donât bother with that stuff but still.)Â
I wanted to tell you that I got the job at the florist so your help with the application must have been what did it, Iâm starting to think youâre good luck, or youâre just far too sweet to me, either way, thank you.
She always ended her letter with a heart, drawn quickly at the end of her words, it was a little thing he hoped she only did for him. It wasnât fair but Steve wanted to be the only one she wrote to, he didn't know many twenty one year olds who kept pen pals so with luck, he was starting to sound like her, he was the only one.Â
He kept all her letters in the top drawer of his desk. If it took a while for her to write he liked to read over them, first thing in the morning or right before bed, occasionally a little drunk around three in the morning too. He had favourites, this one would be one because she had called him sweet and that was a direct hit on his heart.Â
He brushed his fingertips over the word, over the paper, hating and loving at the same time that she had touched it too. He didn't know her, well he did but he wouldnât know her if he saw her walking through Hawkins, however it didnât matter, he was sure she was pretty, he was sure she was perfect. Whatever she looked like, Steve had a lingering crush on her, that gave no signs of going away.Â
He had his pen ticking back and forth in his hand, like he used to do when he put off doing his homework in school. There was something that caught his eyes on his desk, a picture, from the spring, of him, Robin and then Nancy and Jonathan home from college, in Mrs Byers garden. He liked that picture but he still found himself ripping it straight down the middle and cutting himself off.Â
Dear angel,Â
Iâll bring a stopwatch tomorrow. And for your information I have been nothing but nice to that cat. I've even petted it a few times when itâs been sitting on my car, I think I even called it a pretty boy once so whatever issues it has with me are one-sided. I can see you taking that side though, it's a grey fluffy thing, like a big mothball, that would adore you much more then me if you ever met it and Iâm sorry sweet girl but I donât think white kittens are signs for anything, but I would never make fun of you, if I ever did I think I would die on the spot, you canât be creul to an angel without paying the price Iâm sure I read that somewhere.Â
Iâm glad you got the job but I know I had nothing to do with it, you couldâve gotten it on sweetness alone, you belong in a flower shop, (Iâm not even going to try and spell whatever itâs really called) thatâs why they gave you the job.
P.s Iâve put a picture of me in the envelope, Iâm not expecting one back or anything I just wanted you to have a picture of me, like soldiers did in the war, they did that right?Â
She hated that her shoes were on her bed but she was so desperate to read Steveâs letter, taking the time to untie her laces was completely out of the question, and how else was a girl supposed to read a letter from a boy she liked then laying on bed with her feet kicked up.
The picture he had given her fell from the envelope, it was clearly ripped and Steve was clearly sunkissed in it, the weather must've started warming up where he was just like it did where she was and he had caught the sun. He had pretty freckles dotted everywhere, the sweetest of smiles, pretty blonde highlights in his hair and-
In all her dizziness, in reading his words twice over, she always did that, in her daydream of having him call her angel again and again she hadn't even placed him. Steve wasn't just sweet, kind Steve who never left her letters unread, who helped her with whatever she needed, who called her names that made her stomach flip, he was Steve Harrington.Â
King Steve, Hawkins it boy, Steve who she sometimes saw buying handfuls of popcorn and candy with his friends on a friday night. Which made Robin, Robin Buckley, Eddie was Eddie Munson, Nancy was- her head was a mess. Too caught up on falling she hadn't realised who he was.Â
She didn't answer the letter, she couldn't.Â
Sometimes he just didn't hear from her for a little while. He guessed sometimes she didn't hear from him for a while too, but he wondered if she waited so anxiously at the window like he did. He wondered if she felt this tightness he felt in his chest when he didn't get to read her words.Â
He walked to work just to get his mind off of her, and the horrible feeling that sending the picture had pushed her away, they had a nice first name basis thing going that felt delicate to him and now he feared he had dropped them and watched them shatter into a rug he couldnât pick them up from. He felt this uncomfortable tightness in his chest, like his body was telling him he had done something wrong. Because, fuck, did he miss her.��
A sweetness filled the air on his way home, the florist's doors wide open, open to catch people as they passed on the street. Considering Hawkins only had one flower store they didn't need to bother. And for the first time since Steve was seven years old and obsessed with daisies he wanted to go in.Â
Flowers were her thing. And he would take any little part of her he could get, he decided two steps from walking in that if on the rest of his walk home, he saw that kitten again, he would write to her first.Â
Everything around him was red and orange, he felt like he was drowning in cinnamon and cold fall mornings but he guessed that was just because of the time of year, he wondered what spring would be like.Â
There wasnât really anyone inside, just an older man, no doubt buying some roses for his wife, standing as the young girl behind the counter tied them prettily and smiled at him, making light conversations in ways that would make how Steve was with costumes look awful.Â
Pink hyacinths. That was what the letters were coaxed in, he glanced but couldnât find any, even though he was sure that was what was softening the air now, pretty stem cut hyacinths. He wouldâve brought them if he could only find them. Â
âAnd some lavender for luck.â
Steveâs heart thumped in his throat, he had heard that before, lavender being lucky, not that he agreed but she had made it sound right so he supposed- the hyacinths weren't in the florists, it wasnât in season for them to be, but they were in the perfume she wore. The girl behind the counter and the girl from his letters.Â
He walked out with a headache unknowing if it was the overwhelming flowers or just because he had seen the girl-, no, his girl.Â
Dear Steve,Â
Iâm so sorry for taking so long to write back, but youâre right, they did send letters and pictures, normally they would take a picture of the people they loved with them, Iâm sure lots of young men took pictures of there girl and then left them one of them, itâs all terribly sad if you think about it too much but its romantic too. Your picture was very sweet, I put it on my bedside table, beside your letters, it just made sense to put it there. I hope you don't mind me not sending one back, I think I'm still just too nervous, especially now I've seen just how handsome you are, I don't want to make you overconfident so i'll leave it at that. I donât think you could ever be cruel Steve, not in my eyes.
Dear angel,Â
Donât be sorry, I was just worried about you that's all, I think I worry about you a lot when the post is late or youâre just busy, I hope thatâs okay, that I worry about you. Iâm glad you kept the picture, it was one of my favourites, I kind of hated tearing it but I wanted you to have it more, please donât call me handsome again, I donât think my heart could take it, the back of my neck started burning up when I read your words. I take it back, please call me handsome over and over again. I have an update on the person behind the red curtain, they came back three times since you last wrote, I also had a run in with the neighbour's cat, it hissed at me the other morning for walking past it. I might buy treats to win it over, let me know what you think it might like.Â
Youâre right too, I would never be cruel to you, (thank you for not saying anything about the spelling mistake), I would never be anything be kind to you, good to you, fuck, sorry, my hands moving faster then my head is, I hope works going okay, Iâm sure you fit right in.Â
She had read Steveâs latest letter a number of times, more times then she could count, his handwriting seemed to deteriorate as he wrote, it was much messier then she was used to but she liked that. She liked how he wrote what came to his head the second it did because it made her feel special to know that when he wrote to her it was with some kind of need. No matter how small, the scribbled writing made her feel dizzy and lightheaded.Â
It kept her warm somehow, to picture his words, even in the pouring rain. Even in the middle of Hawkinâs where all the pavements had holes that made dirty water splash against her legs every time a car passed.Â
A truck went past, over the speed limit too and that did catch her attention. It pulled her from her daydreaming and back to the path she was walking, to her soaked jeans and her muddy shoes. To Steve, standing what could only have been six or seven steps away, his jeans just as damp and his hair soaked through.Â
She looked at him because she thought she could get away with it but he knew. Somehow he knew it was her and all she could was turn her back on him and hope he forgot the entire thing but even through the bad weather she could hear him coming after her.Â
âWait, wait, wait.â Steve reached out for her arm, a careful touch as he caught the sleeve of her sweater, pulling at the wool in the rain would only stretch it but that wasnât too important right now.Â
His eyes were softer then she imagined, she had seen the boy she wrote to as soft and sweet but Steve Harrington couldnât be soft, his reputation was enough for her to know that. But then he was looking at her, down at her really, and she felt she couldn't walk away even if she wanted to.Â
âIâm sorry-â âIâm sorry-â She didnât know what he was apologising for but she didn't know what she was for either.Â
Steve hadnât let go yet, he didnât think he could, his thumb pressed the white wool of her sweater, it was wet and cold but nothing had ever felt so sweet to touch before. She smiled at the ground, a bashfulness in her eyes that made the lines of his smile burn like a papercut.Â
He didnât take his eyes off her, he had seen her twice now and he knew he didnât ever want to take his eyes off her. He had been so right to call her an angel, the thought that the night after he first saw her, pretty pictures of her behind the counter playing through his mind as his lost sleep over how perfect she was to him.Â
He swallowed nothing, his throat moving and her eyes following along his neck, his tongue moved before he had the chance to think, just like his hand would. Because if he thought about the soft little way her lips parted he wouldâve fainted right there on the sidewalk.Â
âSorry about the letters, being so-, illegible.â He laughed to himself, eyes casting to the floor for a second, waiting for the teasing to come. Not knowing her in person protected him a little, his bad spelling and his messy handwriting, his incorrect use of words, it didn't matter when it wasn't face to face but now he was praying the girl in front of him didn't think he was an idiot.Â
âThey were fine, more than fine.â She spoke softer than he imagined, a little more nervous then how he read her letters but it was okay because he was nervous too.Â
Fine had never sounded so sweet before. A word had never meant so much to him and he couldnât help but relax his shoulders, the strain in the back of his neck now gone as let her sleeve go.Â
âYours were much prettier to read.â He liked the look on her face a little too much. He liked how fucking pretty she looked when she was praised, Steve wouldâve confessed how much he adored even just the scent of her letters or the way she wrote her s, just to see that look.Â
âI like your handwriting.â She pinched her brows together, like she was wondering how someone couldnât.
And she was because his handwriting made her feel special, it made her bite her lip and kick her feet, it made her cheeks burn when he cursed or called her angel, it made her know which letters were from him just from seeing the envelope sitting on the dining room table- she couldnât think, Steve Harrington was kissing her.
His hand was on her waist, his fingers too close to her hip, digging in her flesh through her clothes and he was kissing her and she was kissing him because nothing had felt so right before. He was soft and sweet but full of need too as her lungs began to ache and his lips moved against hers.Â
He muttered something, something that had him grinning and her smiling shyly, âYou canât put that in an envelope.â
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win with you (18+)
summary: your bantering with steve comes to a head (lol get it)
contains: smut! 18+ only! steve x reader; reader with a vagina; fem!aligned reader; fingering (reader receiving); handjob (steve receiving); bantering; some pining; cutie ending
authorâs note: letâs try not to plagiarize this one luvs xx
Steveâs not even drunk and heâs still annoying. Making you grit your teeth in the passenger seat while heâs being cocky and what he must think is comedic.
âAdmit it,â he says. His smile is all teeth. âYou love watching me do keg stands.â
âI was literally not even outside when you did that.â
âThen whatâs got your panties in a bunch, huh?â
Heâs being mean about it, but he doesnât mean to be. He doesnât know youâre head over heels for him. Catching you gawking at him isnât all that serious to Steve. He just thinks itâs funny.
You donât.
âWho says itâs you?â
âI do. Jesus, shouldâve seen your face. Looked like you saw a God. You think Iâm pretty, babe?â And he laughs.
âShut up!â
âIf it wasnât the keg then what was it? Grinding on people? My outfit? My jeans a little too tight?â
You want to throw yourself out of the car. âSteve, stop!â
âSo youâre saying youâre not wet right now?â
âOh, my god. No.â
You are. You have been since he picked you up to go to this stupid ass party. Maybe if he didnât hold the door open for you, or put his hand on your lower back to guide you inside, or wink at you from across the room when someone was holding him up youâd be dry. But youâre not. Not like you can help it.
âOkay, so prove it.â
You look over at him finally, his smile more relaxed and bemused. âHow?â
Steve holds his hand out towards you, elbow resting on the center console. âGive me your underwear.â
Your stomach flips and your face gets hot. âYouâre disgusting,â you scoff, looking back out the window so he doesnât see how phased you are.
âSo you wonât?â
âNo!â
âFine.â He rests his outstretched hand back on his thigh. âIâll just assume youâre wet since youâre so embarrassed.â
You grit your teeth hard. âWill you shut up for the rest of the drive if I do?â
âFor tonight only? Sure.â
âYou swear?â
âSwear.â
You huff, incredulous at yourself, as you slip your underwear down your thighs, pulling them over your heels at the ankle. Thereâs an evident wet patch, stringy with your arousal, and youâre about to shove them back on before Steve grabs your wrist. âWe made a deal,â he reminds.
You practically throw them at him, crossing your arms over your chest as he lets his eyes wander from the road to the silk in his hand. âOh, Jesus,â he says. âI fuckinâ knew it.â
You try to snatch them from him, but heâs already pulling off to the side of the road to get a real good look at them. You hide your head in your hands when he turns the overhead light on, gasping a little. âWow. All this for me?â
You growl. âWho said it was for you?â
âYou know Iâm teasing,â he says, but he still grips your underwear in his hand. âWhoâs the lucky guy?â
Your head races because you actually werenât expecting him to ask that. âUm. Uh - Brady. Brady Tyler?â
Steve scoffs. âThat dumbass with two first names? He sat by the chip bowl all night.â
âWell, I like chips.â Your hand reaches for the silk and again, he pulls away.
âYou like chips, or you like Brady?â
His brow is quirked. Heâs staring you down and he has to know itâll get even more of a rise out of you.
âThis is humiliating,â you sigh, finally getting your hands back on your underwear. âCan you just take me home like I asked?â
âI didnât mean to embarrass you-â
âBullshit, Steve,â you spit, staring out the window again as he kicks the car back into drive. âYou like it when I get embarrassed, you think itâs funny.â
âWell, a little,â he admits. âBut I didnât mean for you to get uncomfortable. Really.â
âHow did you even know I was wet?â you ask after a while.
Steve bites his lip and drums on the steering wheel. âYou want me to be honest?â
âYou look up my skirt or something?â
âNo. I just - I could - I could, like, smell it.â
You throw your hand against his arm fast and hard and he groans.
âWhy do you say shit like that?â
âWell, I - I did! Moment you got into the car - itâs not - itâs not like itâs bad, I just - you know?â
ââNot like itâs badâ? Oh, tell me, Steve, did it make you hard?â
Youâre trying to get a rise out of him to satiate your own anger. Itâs a lot easier (and admittedly more fun) when the bickering goes both ways. But he stills, pulling onto your street, going quiet.
âDid it?â
âWeâre almost -â
âNo way! You did not just make me show you my underwear to avoid this now.â
âItâs gettinâ late -â
âLet me feel, then.â
âHuh?â
âOnly fair, right? You got to hold my underwear, I think feeling your dick is less intimate.â
âThatâs absolutely not true -â
âWill you let me?â
Steve groans and pulls up to your apartment, throwing it in park and turning to face you. âFine,â he huffs, taking your hand and moving it to his left thigh.
âNo,â you scold, breaking into a smile. âThatâs not the side you tuck it into.â
He seems to grow a little pale. âHow do you know?â
âEveryone knows, Steve, not like youâre -â
Your hand hits his hard on and you both gasp at it. It would be comical except for the implications that youâre both horny for the other. You let your hand stay for a moment, watching Steveâs dark eyes flit down, then back up to yours. He licks his bottom lip.
âNot like Iâm what?â He finally asks, voice cracking.
You blink, heart racing. You lick your lips, too. âNot like youâre small,â you mumble. âYour jeans are really tight,â you add.
You can feel his cock kick under your palm and you experimentally press down with the heel of it. Steve gasps, head leaning back against the seat. His jaw drops. Youâve never seen him so lost for words before.
âIs that good?â you ask dumbly, still using the heel of your palm on him.
He sighs and licks his lips, highlighted hair falling over his forehead. âUh-huh.â
Youâre shy. Even with your hand on him. You pull back but he takes your hand again, pressing it down on his cock and grinding up into it. Both of your eyes widen, your throat going dry. You canât speak, so you just continue, rubbing him through those stupid dark wash Levis.
âYou- w-were hard for me all night?â you finally whisper, stuttering a bit. You swallow hard.
âYeah,â he says, leaning back against the window so heâs facing you. âEver since IâŚ.â
âPicked me up?â
âPlease,â Steve asks hoarsely, his hands moving to the waistband of his jeans. âI gotta - it hurts.â
âOh,â you whisper, removing your hand so he can shove his jeans down his thighs. Heâs left in his boxers, and his unfocused eyes flick up to meet yours for approval. âYouâre wet, too,â you say, reaching out with a finger to touch the wet spot where the tip of his cock is.
âShit,â he hisses, leaning back again. âMore, please.â
You realize your power here, as his adamâs apple bobs, as his cheeks turn red. Itâs thrilling to have the upper hand. It makes it feel like youâve won.
âItâs only fair that you give me yours, right?â you say, running the tip of your finger down his shaft. Itâs begging to be let out. âDonât you think, Steve?â
âReally?â
âYeah, really,â you scoff, moving up to his waistband, letting it snap back against his stomach. âGotta take a good look at what Iâve done to you.â
Steve moves surprisingly quickly, though a bit irritated. He hands his boxers over with a scrunched nose. âThere.â
âHmmph.â You punch the light above you on and grin widely as you examine them. The amount of precum is a little unbelievable, but itâs clear heâs been thinking about you just as much as you thought of him.
Steve mocks you, huffing with his arms crossed, dick out in the open. âWhat?â
âI think you made a bigger mess than me.â
âAbsolutely n- oh!â
He throws his head back as your hand gently wraps around his length. It hits the window harshly and you laugh, but Steveâs incredibly serious. His hips thrust up into your hand desperately. His jawâs gone slack again, eyes squeezed shut, fists balled up. You stroke him and beam when he inhales shakily, one hand coming down to rest lightly on yours.
âNot fair,â he heaves. âDidnât get to touch you.â
You twist your wrist. âYou want to?â
âJesus, yes, of course,â he babbles. In the light of the car, you can see the faint line of the scar across his jugular. You want to lean forward and kiss it, lick it, soothe it. âThought - th-thought touchinâ your underwear would be sp-spank material for months - wanna feelâŚ.â
âWanna feel what?â
âYour pussy,â he nearly growls, bucking his hips upwards again. A hand goes up towards his hair, tangling his fingers in it. The sight makes your eyelids drop, your mouth salivate. He looks so wrecked and so big in your hand.
âSteve,â you moan, thumb swiping over his leaking tip. âWhy didnât you say somethinâ?â
âAre we doing this here?â he breathes, suddenly punching the light out. He seems a little more focused. âIâm not a big fan of c-car sex.â
âWhat? Donât wanna ruin the leather?â
âShut up.â
âIs that how you should talk to me?â
âYâknow what turns me on?â he says, leaning forward, your hand still wrapped around him. His hands make their way between your legs, big and warm on your inner thighs. Your hand stops moving now, feeling a little less in charge with him looming over you. âWhen you get irritated with me.â
You laugh breathlessly. âYâmust be turned on a lot then.â
Steveâs knuckle grazes over your swollen clit. You gasp and squeeze his cock, your other hand gripping the door handle behind you. âOh, I am.â
Itâs quiet as he touches you. You canât meet his coffee colored eyes while he rocks the joins of his fingers against your clit. He soon manages to work his way underneath the fabric of your underwear and you both gasp.
âJesus, sheâs cryinâ, huh? Wanted me so bad all night,â he coos, now using the pads of his fingers to stroke up and down your folds. You shiver and try to keep up your own strokes, but itâs insanely difficult when heâs touching you like this. You feel his cock flex in your palm and it makes you clench up. âCome on, thought you were touching me.â
âShut up,â you grit, âyour stupid dumb fingers are distracting me.â
He chuckles, pressing two fingers right against your entrance before pulling away. âThey are, arenât they? Needed me, didnât you?â
âJust needed something.â
âSure, like Chip Bowl.â He scoffs. âYou couldâve made up a much better lie, yâknow.â
You jerk Steve off again, trying to get back a bit of your authority. He groans low in his throat, breaking it off with another laugh. âCouldâve - picked - a-anyone else-â
âYeah, well,â you breathe, fighting back a moan as his fingers work fast on your clit, your hand finding the same pace against his shaft. âYour nickname w-was f-fucking⌠the Hair.â
âThatâs mean,â he whines. âNot like I chose it. Oh, fuck, honey-â
âAnd King Steve,â you continue, spreading your legs, pushing forward slightly to have better access to him. âStupid.â
âYouâre about to cum on his fingers,â he groans.
âBullshit,â you moan, grabbing his shirt with your free hand. Heâs got the top half unbuttoned, showing the hair on his chest, sleeves rolled up. If you look down, you can see the veins in his forearms pushing out as he works on your cunt. You pull him towards you and his lips land on your neck. Heâs quick to suck an eager hickey into it.
âGonna make me cum,â he whispers into your skin. âYou- this isnât how - mmmmmph - how I wantedâŚ.â
âOh,â you breathe. Your wrist is starting to cramp but you maintain your pace. âYou d-dreamed about this, huh?â
Steve licks a path up to your ear. âLike you havenât.â
You grab his shirt harder, breathing heavily, panting while he rubs your clit. He bites into your neck, a whimper leaving his throat. âAh,â he cries, rutting into your hand as you rut into his, ââm gonna cum, shit!â
âOn the leather?â
Your orgasm hits you fast and severe as he slides two fingers knuckle-deep into you. You gasp and swear, pushing yourself into him and pulling him onto you. Steve groans, cumming from the sensation of your tight walls around his digits, your hand pumping him through it. He forces himself off of your neck to press his lips harshly into yours and you both moan and lick into each otherâs mouths until you need to pull back to breathe.
You can only stare at each other for a while. Your thumb rakes over Steveâs temple, rubbing away a stray drop of sweat. He looks drunk. Your chest heaves and he moves his hand to your thigh again, rubbing gently.
âThanks for the ride,â you finally say, pushing his hair out of his face.
He smiles and nods. âYou, too. Are you gonna let me in to clean up?â
You smile back. âSure. But Iâm not helping.â
âAwful rude of you,â he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You notice now how hot you are, how radiant your cheeks have been. The intimacy of his kiss only makes you boil more. âHow about you let me stay to make up for it?â
âYou trying to sleep with me?â
âNo,â he muses. âJust trying to win with you.â
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Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.
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oh i leave quite an impression, five feet to be exact. SHORT N' SWEET Sabrina Carpenter's 6th studio album â released August 23rd, 2024
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who says it can't be both
liking this man causes the same symptoms as psychosis
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heyyy, I tried to go to the link of request that you have on you pinned post and it keeps sending to another place (that I'm almost sure you didn't wanted) sooo, just so you can change it or let it, whatever you prefer đŤśđź(btw sorry for bad English)
bahagahhaha i accidentally added the wrong linkđŤŁďż˝ďż˝ďż˝ thanks for telling međ
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I hate the whole discourse of: "fanfic writers need to accept criticism so they can improve". Look, I did not post 5k of men blowing their loads so that I can become Hemingway or something, just don't read it if you don't want to, or do read it and drop your damn thanks in the tin.
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its not psychosis its divine knowledge this time
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saddest moment of my life was watching st4 with my bf and having to pretend i didn't find steve shirtless hotđ needless to say i'm single now lol
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Hi, I was wondering if you take any request?
hello! yup, i'm taking requests đ
info is in my navigation post which is pinned on my blogđ
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i feel my soul leave my body everytime any of y'all like or reblog my enjolras fics. like that is my anti-roman empire. i NEVER think of that shit.
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i had a dream my tumblr username was changed to something rly weird like 'applebottomjeans' and honestly i'm so confused still
also missed a doctor's call bc my phone was on silence and i straight up forgot about it :')
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born to write reader fanfic forced to work constantly
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this made me so fucking happy :')
more of my fav works with George Weasley
first part
⥠= smut, 18+ only
her rhinestones, they shine endlessly
i think heâd look worse in pink
wish it on your worst enemy
goofy summer morning
dear george, love (y/n)
the rest will be history (I'm not afraid of these words: THIS IS LITERALLY THE BEST THING I'VE EVER READ! I mean, I cried, and I laughed, and it's just the best 4,9k words in my life)
what once was mine
don't make her wait
freckles and smiles
pretty good idea
little white lies
pay attention
in disguise
only angel
blindsided
space girl
alright
flying
âĄwww
âĄalone at last
âĄone more night
âĄdecorated for me
âĄdelightfully devilish
âĄeach other's first time
âĄgeorge weasley during sex
âĄgeorge weasley headcanons
âĄnsfw alphabet for george & y/n
âĄkinktober 2023 - george weasley
âĄgeorge overstimulating you, and you cry
all the love to the authors of all these masterpieces: @dracoxsworld @george-weasleys-girl @siriusblackloml @acciojaeyun @gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley @desideriumwriter @pinkandblueblurbs @thebadgerclan @horrorxweasley @elfenbensord @honeymoonblues @lightininglydia @hpimaginesandblurbs @weelittleweasley
masterlist
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