Steve Harrington Smut Imagines

When You Fall In Love

A/N and Disclaimer: After being away for so long, I managed to amount a vast number of requests for the reader falling in love with whichever character was the main focus of my work. Since I recently fell in love and consider it to be the worst mistake of my life, I decided to write the request. However, heed my warning. Don't do it, Dear Reader. Preserve your heart. Destroy the butterflies within your stomach. Most of all, do not fall in love. But of course I am lying. Being in love is wonderful but I am a complicated writer by nature. The words you read below are in no way my personal thoughts, the love I feel is...disastrous- messy almost- and I did not want that for you. I honestly believe that you deserve a simple, happy life with your fictional character.

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I can pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with him. I know you think me a hopeless romantic but believe me when I say, I fell in love with him from the moment he took my hand and stole me away from the chaos and confusion. It was in that instant when he hide us away from the world, arms wrapped comfortingly around my waist, that I knew that this male was like no other I had encountered. His heart, a fluttering bird trapped within a cage, beating erratically like mine. We were both feeling something neither of us could explain. Whether we both shared in the same level of adoration, it didn't matter. All I cared about was not the world around but the look of determination and hurt upon his face. It saddened him to see me frustrated but so resolute he was in not letting the oceanic waves of emotions, drag my struggling hopes beneath the dark water.

But I don't just want to talk about that significant event, as with him, every moment is remarkable. I want to talk about every time I have a chance to steal an hour or a day with him.

How can I not tell you about the way he hugs me from behind when I'm "making" Pop Tarts? We've argued about this, Pop Tarts do not require cooking, only warming up. He'll tell me I'm wrong, with a kiss on the nose and cheeky smile. So I forgive him for his mistake and continue to "make" his breakfast.

What about the way his licks his bottom lip and glances hungrily at my own, waiting patiently to see if I am comfortable with such an intimate gesture? Despite robbing me of my heart, he never takes what isn't his. Kisses included. Ever the gentleman, never wanting to hurt me. With him there is no pain, only a desire to be in his embrace. To talk about our days, underneath the covers- a makeshift blanket fort. 'Cosy' he called it.

Let me also talk about our carnal pleasures, so attentive he is my body and aware of what hie touches, curious to see what will cause me to writhe and tremble beneath his body. The blooming red of love bites are the only marks he has ever inflicted upon my skin. I am particularly fascinated with the dilation of his pupils. Although I adore the clear colour of his irises, when they become swallowed up by his evident yearning for my form, I cannot help but gasp with delight and feel my own body come alive with need, a need for him.

I am in love with him and his entirety. I will not apologise for my actions. I am not in control of my emotions and I do not want to be. Think me insane, I accept this delirium without a seconds regret.