#steve harrington x named!reader

[myosotisa]

‖ tags: smut, somnophilia, size kink, p in v, praise kink

‖ word count: 380

the two of you have had sex 3 times and you've never been able to take all of him because you just get too in your head about how huge he is. he's so patient with you, never rushing you, prioritizing your comfort over anything else. making suggestions to try to make it better, or saying he'll just fuck you with half so it doesn't hurt you, or that the two of you don't have to do anything at all if you don't want to.

you feel bad, self conscious, slightly ashamed, apologetic. he assures you it's more than fine, sex with you is amazing even if you can't take all of him. but. he knows it's all in your head. he knows your body can take it. he asks if you trust him and of course you say you do.

you wake up on your stomach, naked from the waist down and your shirt rolled up to your armpits. it's hot and sweaty and disorienting but holy shit what is that feeling?!

"there she is," he says in a deep voice, rough from how quiet he's trying to be. "good morning beautiful"

you go to say good morning back but it's cut off with an unexpected moan, a feeling deep inside you shifting. "feel that?" he murmurs, sounding a bit cheeky but so utterly pleased. to make his point more clear he rolls his hips, adjusting his thick cock inside you, and holy fucking shit he's balls deep.

"knew you could take it, baby," he says proudly when you gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets beneath you. he pulls back an inch or two and pushes back in, your back arching as you let out a choked moan. he's so deep, you've never felt anything like this before.

"just had to take your big, nervous brain out of the equation. knew it the whole time - your pussy was begging for it, crying for it. and now you're soaking me, sh-iiit, like you were made for my fat cock," he groans, continuing to slowly shift in and out of you, your muscles clenching around him on each drive forward. "so fucking perfect baby. just keep taking it like a champ and I promise to make you feel so good you'll never worry about me fucking you like this ever again."

[keeksandgigz]

Chapter 2: Au coeur des ténèbres

Part 2 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Summary: As some weird feelings come to light, you begin questioning your initial opinion of your two guests

cw: some suggestive content, reader's vivid smutty imagination. reader is a bit less of a cunt, brief description of insecurities (nothing too detailed), slut shaming if you squint, kissing, a lot of internal angst, overall a lot of words I'm sorry

word count: 3k

author's notes: I'm so sorry for the wait, but its here!!!

Heart of Darkness laid in your lap as you sat in your father’s study. Eddie typed away at his desk, while Steve looked at some old archeology dissertations from past students. You were often forced to sit in and listen to the guest’s nonsensical jumble of words and phrases in an attempt to sound smart. 

You had been scolded by your father twice for trying to interact with Eddie, who seemed laser- focused on the parchment in front of him, the metallic clicking of the keys of the typewriter in the faint background of the stuffy old study. Giovanna had come by twice with a pitcher full of apricot juice from the garden, which the two had gulped down without giving much thought. You saw the way the juice dribbled down Eddie’s chin, how he lifted his thumb to clean off the mess, then wiped his finger on his black cutoff shirt and proceeded to continue typing. His fingers flexed and tensed in between typing, thick and sturdy as he stretched and massaged the palm of his hand with his ringed fingers. 

Steve sat on the dark green couch, legs spread, his shorts riding up, up, up bunching at the crease between his thighs and his groin. One of his legs bounced as he reviewed case studies, artifact pictures, lip trapped in between his pearly teeth. 

There wasn’t a whisper of a breeze, or a draft, but you shivered nonetheless. The two could’ve been patronizing and condescending, but that didn’t take away from the fact that you saw the way their skin, not yet tan from the sunlight, rippled with sweat at each whisper of a movement in the stuffy study. Steve’s leg bounced as he studied the pictures projected on the walls, his already short shorts riding up with each jump of his leg, exposing more and more of his thigh, you blushed. 

This charged silence broke once Steve opened his mouth. He held up another glass full of apricot juice. 

“What’s apricot in Italian again?” he asked, wiping remnants of juice from his chin. 

“Albicocca” your father said, smiling. He went on a rant about the etymology of the word, which you really couldn’t care about. A fun little rehearsed bit he did every year, the students’ impressed faces beamed up the stuffy study. 

“If I can beg your pardon, what you said is slightly wrong” it was Eddie. Surprise tinged your face in hearing him speak up. In the two days that you’ve known him his vocabulary was littered with grateful praises and quiet musings, here it had a slight tinge of pride. 

“It’s uh— actually the Greek etymology for apricot comes from Latin. It’s praecoquum, then praecox, then precokia and then we get the Arab al- barquq— albicocca” he mused in a butchered italian, but all you could hear in his observations is just cock, cock, cock. He sounded nervous delivering his lecture, almost as if he was scared of getting kicked out for defying an authority of mind like your father.

Instead, he looked at him with an impressed smile, and Eddie blushed a bit. Steve delivered a friendly pat on the boy’s shoulder.

Not as lucky as many. 

Later that day, when Steve stole your friends for a volleyball game on your lawn, you watched his sweaty body, clad in a blue swimsuit, shoulders flexing and shining in the early afternoon sunlight jump up and duck down along with the worn ball that keeps jumping between both sides of the net. 

Eddie sat on the lawn, in the shade. His pearly complexion having acquired just the most undetectable sheen of red that threw the boy in a panicked frenzy earlier that morning. He was sorting through loose pages of what appears to be his manuscript. 

“Why aren’t you playing instead of staring at me?” his head perked up from the typed up pages, and you could feel yourself heat up. Not even the sun could hide the tinge of pink that colored your cheeks. 

“I could say the same thing about you” you stammered out, snippy and embarrassed. 

All he could do was chuckle as he motioned his papers towards the book you had ignored sitting in your lap. “I like that book. Heart of Darkness? One of the few books I actually liked when I was in English Lit in high school” he smiled. A smile that seemed genuine, much different than the courteous smiles he had reserved for your mom and dad. 

“And that was when the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth?” you curled your nose. 

A sardonic laugh escaped the boy. 

“Very funny. And how old are you again?” he scooted his butt closer to you, his loose papers now forgotten on the lawn. The proximity made you a bit nervous. 

“Twnety-one” you breathed out “I wouldn’t give you any less than fifty- six” you nudged his shoulder and he laughed. 

“Shouldn’t you be at some snooty college party right now? I dunno, traveling the world with some sorority sister?”

“And miss this gorgeous sight to behold?” your tone dripped of sarcasm as you pointed at Steve, mid jump into grabbing the ball.

Right as you said that Steve missed, ending up on the grass, a pained moan followed. Eddie isn’t given any time to answer you, stopping in his tracks and to run and pick up his friend to escort him where you were. You couldn’t care less about the physical ineptitude of your guest— if there wasn’t any blood or bones sticking out it wasn’t worth worrying. 

“Pass me some water, please?” asked Eddie.. You complied, rolling your eyes as he began kneading the injured boy’s shoulder. He hissed at the first swipes of the long- haired boy’s hands— big and firm. You let down a short swallow. 

“Steve you’re tight— you stressed?” Eddie asked, squeezing the juncture between the boy’s neck and shoulder. 

“I’m fine Ed” he smiled up at the boy, but instead of moving, Eddie dug his fingers deeper into the golden flesh of the honey- eyed boy. 

“Here, feel” he grabbed your hand and placed it on Steve’s warm shoulder— firm and freckled, still wet with sweat. “Isn’t he a bit tight?” Much to your shock you retreated your hand, but the feeling of the smoothness of his tan skin seemed to be encased in the fiber of the palm of your hand. 

“Yeah, I guess” you muttered, going back to Heart of Darkness. 

Dissatisfied with your curt and cold response, Eddie had your friend Chiara feel the back of the injured boy, whose fingers seemed to linger along Steve’s back for long, almost mapping every mole and mark to store in her mind for later. She was an artist, and an artist’s eye was never wrong. 

Steve smiled at the girl, and in return she giggled. Once she left you closed the book in your lap once again. 

“Careful, she’s gonna try to draw you naked” you teased Steve, whose eyes seemed to be glued on the way your friend scampered around the lawn. 

“Like I’m complaining” he retorted with a cheeky smile, and that made you feel weird. 

What did she have that you didn’t? Why didn’t he look at you like that?

You cursed the way you seemed to act too much like a grown up, the way you took yourself too seriously to even participate in a dumb volleyball game. 

Maybe you should’ve played. 

Taking your towel and your book with you, you made your way back into the house, almost stomping in protest, at the way the honey- eyed boy didn’t seem to spare you a cheeky smile or a wandering eye. Didn’t matter that they both seemed like two idiots who only cared about getting the experience from your father’s expertise, exploiting and squeezing the knowledge out of the overripe peach of his brain, which seemed to become less and less awake with every year that passed. 

You disliked the way that Steve seemed to want to make a pass at each and every one of your friends, and them letting him. With his rude and pushy American ways of wanting to make everything his, his property, his Don John-ish manners that made him expect something from everyone he came into contact with. 

You hated Eddie’s arrogance in his surveying and picking your brain, making the six year difference between you two seem like a chasm, with his snobbish knowledge of literally every book that sat on your bookcase. Fingers rubbing his stubbly, boyish chin as he examined each and every shelf, spine, title. He always seemed to have something to say with you, wanting to prove himself to the whole world, confirm that he wasn’t just some trailer trash who had finally made it out of the few acres of overpopulated land. You could not remotely fathom how those two were so close together, coming from such different backgrounds. 

However, as you tried to silently beg for Steve and Eddie’s attention, that was seemingly anywhere else but on you, like an old, neglected dog, you seemed to realize that, in some twisted sort of way, you wanted to fall victim to their charm. 

Like many of your friends did, much bolder, some older, and more confident than you had been, in the past years, not hesitating to pounce on your guests with hunger similar to a hyena. The hunger of a repressed teenage girl who had just reached adulthood, craving everything that came with it– even risque summer romances with men who had traveled around the sun for much longer than they had. Throwing their plump, glowing bodies on the dance floor around the sturdy necks of your father’s students. With every year that passed, you could not escape the vicious circle of your giggling friends, who competed over who would get to lure your guests into their greedy grasp first, and you’d all hear about it the morning after. 

You’d heard about gorgeous but incredibly incapable men, well- endowed, but short, much older and more experienced. There was something about their stories, the lightheartedness in their laughs, as if playing with these men’s hearts and minds had become a game, that made you feel like a different person. Coming home and contemplating on leaving the communicating bathroom door open, so that your guest could catch you sleeping on your stomach without any shorts on, or adjusting your swimsuit at the pool right as they passed by to read on the lawn. You never brought yourself to act upon these contemplations, too scared of what your father might have thought of you, and rather, delighting yourself in tormenting your guests as a way to cope with a feeling of inadequacy that seemed to swell with each year that passed.

Ever since Steve and Eddie had arrived– young, attractive, and most peculiar thing of all, there were two of them– your friends could not stop arguing about which boy would have fallen in the arms of your friends. Anna had gushed about seeing Steve’s dick through his tiny, blue swimming shorts earlier that day during a game of volleyball, escalating into a conversation that hours later could not seem to leave your mind, as you sat on one of the lawn chairs of the balcony. 

You had not entered your room, afraid your restlessness might have woken the two boys. Nursing a cigarette in between the intrusive thoughts of whether Anna was right. Had she already claimed her prize? A part of you stung at the thought that not even four days into their stay, your friends had already gotten their slimy hands on your guests. A different part had wanted it to be you to have received such attention from the honey- eyed boy. Would he have been attentive and careful? Or full of passion and bravado, much like how he’d presented himself to you since he’d arrived? 

“This seat taken?” Steve had startled you. The irony. 

You heard him let out a whiff of air, like a muted laugh “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat down on the wicker chair next to you, without waiting for your permission. He took in the still night air that had oftentimes brought you counsel, accompanied by the melody of the night cicadas. 

“Can’t sleep?” he mused, playing with the woven wicker on the arm of the chair. 

“Didn’t wanna wake you guys up” Your dry response was accompanied by a lazy drag off the half- finished cigarette. Steve reached an arm out in your direction, you took the hint. 

“I was downstairs finishing some work for your dad, the jet lag still keeps me up” you watched his lips wrap around the cigarettes, right where your mouth had been just seconds before. Your breath hitched at the realization as he let out the smoke from his mouth, slow and deliberate. 

“So, uh, you and Anna? I heard you guys had a thing going on” you passed him the ashtray on the small table next to you as he shook the ash off the cigarette and brought it back to his mouth. 

He shook his head, “She’s your friend?” he asked, sardonically, turning away from you to look into the distant trees. 

“Not really, rumors travel fast around here” you tried to keep your mouth shut, but something inside you just pushed you to intervene, to let him know that she was certainly not good for him. “And she also has a reputation,” you added, gulping. 

He put out the cigarette in the ashtray, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and sat back on the wicker seat “Is that so?” A smirk adorned his face, almost as if he didn’t believe a word you were saying. 

You nodded, heating up a bit at the way his legs spread and his shorts rode up his legs “She gets around” You avoided his gaze, looking at Giovanna downstairs in the garden, finishing up her last chores for the night. 

“Never stopped me before” he retorted, shrugging. The sour look on your face only made his sly smile slice his face further. 

“By the way your nose is curled up I’d say you’re jealous” he laughed, standing up. You heated up at the– very correct and very obvious– observation. 

“I am not” you retorted, maybe a little bit more upset than you should’ve been at his dig, standing up abruptly.

“What is it then?” he inched closer to you. You could smell the remnants of the cigarette on his breath. You felt your eyes widen and your throat close up “You’re envious of your friends getting more attention than you? Am I supposed to feel bad for you because you feel inferior to them? Maybe if you stopped being a bitch to everyone that crossed your path you’d get laid too” With each stinging sentence the boy got closer and closer to you, his chest almost touching yours, and with each dig you swelled up with anger. Why was he treating you like this all of a sudden? 

Deserved? Sure. You had been nothing but a raging cunt to him since his arrival, but his words seemed to intend to cut deeper than that. 

However, instead of hurting you, his words only revved you even further, wanting most of all, to shut up his nonsensical attack against you. 

You watched his heated expression as he stopped his ranting, leaning on the railing of your balcony. 

“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?” he muttered, his voice much lower than his previous scolding. You couldn’t say anything, inside you were fighting demons you had only heard of from your friends. You were panting as if you had run a marathon, but to him, you were just a child throwing a tantrum. 

He scoffed “Y’know what? Grow up” he laughed, before motioning to turn around. Something in your chest pulled you towards him. The need to become more like your friends, that had lied dormant as you had awaited to provocatively lure your guests into your room, had been nudged. 

As Steve walked away heatedly, closing the door to his room, you imagined grabbing his shoulder with strength you didn’t know you had and spin him around before crashing his lips onto his. 

Kissing him with a hunger that was only for you to satiate. Needing to feel yourself bloom out of a cage that you’d put yourself in because you took yourself too seriously. You imagined exploring his sturdy, tanned body. 

As you got ready for bed, peeking your face into your guests’ room, where Steve had fallen asleep without changing out of his clothes. You imagined slipping your hands under his billowy shirt, as his hands gripped your waist so tightly that his fingers could have left marks in their wake. Slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, feel the softness of the skin underneath, scratching it with his fingernails. 

You thought about intentionally upsetting him, just to have him that close to you again. You thought about his reaction to your tongue making its way into his mouth, licking and tasting his lips, his gums, his tongue. Wanting him to have access to you, to look at you. To peek his head into your room to find you asleep on your stomach, wanting him to see your scrunched up face as you transcribed your music, leaning against a tree as you read. Swimming with your friends, but only staring at you, at the way the water would drip off your body, at the way you would look while suntanning. 

A devious thought pervaded you as you imagined both of your guests fighting to have you. Fighting to look at you. Fighting for your attention. 

You laid in bed, drunk on the vivid images of your body undulating in between the two boys, heated and needy like you’d never been before.

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is much appreciated <3

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @strangerstilinski, @aphrogeneias, @usergeta, @rebelfell, @ali-r3n, @thornsnvultures , @jamdoughnutmagician , @take-everything-you-can, @aol19 , @eddiesghxst , @myspacebrat , @xxbimbobunnyxx , @cryingglightningg , @lavendermunson , @freak-of-hawkins , @eddiesdaydream , @sidereustales

[stvharrngton]

dizzy

a/n: i know obsessed we all are with this guys chest so i thought i’d write something about it. do not @ me for this pls 🤡

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, chest riding, masturbation, spanking, praise, dirty talk

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby @sw34terw34ther @sweetbabygirlsworld

You weren’t sure how you ended up here. Sat in Steve’s lap in nothing but your underwear and him still in his jeans. Your eyes glued to his chest, the thick thatch of hair that decorated his pecs and travelled down to his stomach.

Ever since Steve had decided to let his chest hair grow out, you had been nothing short of obsessed. Loving how it would peak out of his shirts when the neckline was a little low. You’d love to run your fingers through it at night when you were tangled beneath the sheets, raking your nails through the coarse, dark hair.

The proposition felt like a dream, something far away in a secluded fantasy you only thought about when you were alone, when Steve wasn’t there to help get you off. But you couldn’t help it, staring, mouth-watering, every time he would remove his shirt for whatever reason. 

How could he blame you? Surely anyone would want to know what it felt like to have their pussy rutting against Steve’s chest. 

But oh, it was very much real.

“Baby?” Steve spoke softly, voice like velvet, “You okay? Did you hear me?” He’d asked from beneath you, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Yeah, uh—I did, I just…” you stuttered, cheeks heating up, “you don’t think it’s weird? And how did you know?” Your fingers came to mess with the belt loops of his jeans.

“Weird? No,” Steve began, fingers hooking under your chin to bring your gaze back to him, “Dirty? Fuck yes.” He said with a chuckle, the bulge in his jeans evident against your crotch, “Besides, baby, I know you and I see how you stare and your thighs clench whenever I take my shirt off,” Steve let his fingers wander down your body, ghosting over your tits with a smirk, “and I’ll try anything if it means I get to hear those pretty sounds when you cum.”

You keened at his words, a gentle nod in response. Steve’s words of reassurance went straight to your core. That, and what you were about to do had you reeling towards the edge.

“Come on, don’t get all shy on me now,” Steve’s fingers gripped your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing into the soft skin, “come sit that pretty pussy on my chest and show me how bad you wanna fuck yourself on me.”

A breath hitched in your throat, a lump swallowed. The wet spot on your panties told you that you wanted this badly. So you manoeuvred yourself to straddle Steve’s firm chest, the boy coming to help you out as he tugged your underwear to the side, helping you settle your dripping cunt over his pec.

You let out a shaky breath as the thick, coarse hair connected with your clit. Steve held his hands out for you, lacing his fingers between your own to give you some balance. You began to roll your hips over him gently, softly, searching for a pace that gave you that warm feeling.

Steve watched you in awe as your eyes fluttered closed, your jaw slack and mouth hanging agape. You seemed to have found a rhythm, sweet little moans escaping your lips with every drag of your hips. Steve squeezed your hands in his encouragingly, loving the way your face was blissed out in pleasure.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He cooed, tone sweet and dripping with honey, “Doing such a good job—fuck, you’re so wet.”

Steve moved his gaze down to where your pussy dragged over his chest, your slick leaking all over him, the ringlets of coarse hair matted together by your wetness. Eyes focused as his jaw went slack, cock rock hard beneath his jeans as a pretty moan tumbled past your lips.

Your features were contorted in pleasure, brows pinched together and eyes squeezed shut. Your hips moved faster now, a circular motion in a dirty grind over the boy’s chest, your clit throbbing and aching.

“Steve,” you whined, one hand still clasped in his own, the other came free to toy with your tits. Your small hands groping the soft flesh, rolling your nipple between your finger and thumb. A loud groan emanating from your throat as your clit caught on a thick patch of his chest hair.

Steve smirked below you, his free hand coming to squeeze at your ass, “Oh, that’s it, baby,” he cooed, palm delivering a gentle slap to the flesh of your backside, “there you go, feels good? Tell me.”

“S’good, so good, Stevie,” you wailed, as your hips rutted over Steve’s nipple, your clit catching on the pert bud, “fu-uck!”

A loud high-pitched keen fell from Steve’s lips, his eyes wide and hazy. Jaw slack as he peered up at you from below his lashes, almost as if he didn’t expect that to feel as good as it did.

“Baby, fuck, can you–can you do that again?” Steve blinked up at you with wide eyes as you managed a nod in your fucked-out state. Your hands came to grip the headboard as you angled your hips just right, your pussy rolling over Steve’s nipple again and again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, fuckfuckfuck,” he whined, raspy and a little breathless, “that feels fucking amazing, shit–keep going.” Steve muttered as he bucked his hips behind you, hand reaching around you to pop the button of his jeans and release his cock from its confines.

You were almost too lost in your own pleasure to notice what Steve was doing behind you, a single glance to his face told you everything. Steve was in his own world, pretty pink lips parted so his breathy moans could spill out, his features relaxed and pent up all at the same time.

Fingers wrapped around his aching cock behind you, stroking gently, as if to almost tease himself the way you would. The scene before him is so hot and dirty, your slick leaking all over him, sweet gasps and whimpers tumbling from your plush lips. Every sound going straight to Steve’s throbbing length.

Bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you shifted your hips so you could angle yourself backwards, hands resting against Steve’s stomach as you thrusted your pussy faster over him. The sensation of the coarse hair brushing against your folds drove you crazy, eyes heavy as you felt the familiar feeling poole in your lower stomach.

Steve worked his cock faster now, hips fucking himself up into his own fist as he cooed encouragement up at you, “Y’gonna cum, pretty? Come on, baby, make a mess all over my chest, that’s it.”

You keened above him, a high-pitched whine as Steve pressed his thumb into your clit as you continued to fuck yourself on him. Your stomach clenched as your thighs shook, electricity rolling throughout your body as the beginnings of your orgasm washed over you. Steve was a mess below you, hair wild and utterly fucked out. Fingers squeezing the angry tip of his cock as he tugged on the shaft fast and hard, pre-cum leaking over his fist.

“Come on, pretty girl, doing so well fucking yourself on me. Such a good girl f’me.” Steve moaned. The pet name and his words of praise finally sent you crashing over the edge, hips stuttering over him as you came. His name left your lips like a chant as you clutched the headboard, nails raking through the hard wood.

“Fuck, Steve, I–” you whined as you panted, clit throbbing from the stimulation.

“I’m right there, baby, fuck–I’m gonna–” Steve cut himself off with his own moan, the precipice of his climax within touching distance. With one last stroke of his cock, Steve was gone. Ropes of hot cum painted his stomach as he came undone. A mix of moans and curse words leaving his lips as his brows pinched together in pleasure. 

You both took a minute to catch your breath as your chests heaved, sweat collecting on your brows and dewy skin shone in the light of your bedroom. You rolled off your boyfriend as you collapsed into the space next to him on the bed. 

“That,” he started, breaths still heavy, “was fucking amazing.” He finished with a chuckle as he peered over you, his fingers pushing the hair from his eyes.

“Yeah?” You asked timidly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod, teeth flashing in a grin, “c’mere.”

Wrapping his arms around you he pulled you into his side, you spoke once more, “Steve? You know you can never shave your chest ever again now, right?”

Steve boasted a laugh that shook his stomach and chest, his eyes flashing a knowing glint as he answered, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

[murdockparker]

Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

__

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different. 

This afternoon she walked in. 

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor. 

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl. 

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?” 

She knew his name. 

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him. 

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep. 

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?” 

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did. 

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange. 

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more. 

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod. 

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump. 

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on. 

“You seem tense,” she noticed. 

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied. 

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months. 

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter. 

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her. 

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough. 

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes. 

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips. 

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster. 

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked. 

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more. 

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy. 

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right? 

She had called him pretty boy. 

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins. 

Maybe it was a date. 

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought. 

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished. 

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later. 

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated. 

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around. 

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath. 

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed. 

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for. 

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands. 

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well. 

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town. 

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing. 

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up. 

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted. 

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets. 

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big. 

--

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk. 

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood. 

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

[eddiesghxst]

Hey i was the one who sent the ask about repeating stuff eddie says ❤ (imma start putting 🦊 as my tag if thats okay)

I know we're all back on the joe keerys hands train and it popped into my mind that his hands are so big, imagine if he made a bet that he could make you cum with one finger?or Giving you some hot lemsip/hot water and honey after throat fucking you into losing your voice

🦊

oh i need him desperately, that’s my bf.

he thinks it’s so funny. the fact that he fucked your throat so well that you can barely speak. and the thing is he asked you so many times if you wanted to slow down or take a break, but you’re so whiney and grabby when steve’s fucking you that he couldn’t even step an inch away before you were practically throwing a fit.

so now, you’re reaping the consequences of your brattiness. sat on the couch and pouting at steve when he places a hot cup of throat coat tea in front of you. you’re wriggling to press your body close to his when he sits next to you but steve’s shaking his head, “drink your tea, baby. before it gets cold.”

“i don’t want to drink tea steve.” you try to say, but it comes out sounding more like a sink disposal and your voice cracks and you absolutely butcher steve’s name and he’s such a shithead he laughs at you.

“s’not funny.” you whisper, since that seems to be the only level at which you can speak. and even then, you sound like you’ve been chain-smoking for thirty years.

steve cups your face and kisses your forehead, “you’re so cute.”

you frown at him and he reaches over to grab your tea and hand it to you, and even though you want to huff and turn away, you still take the warm mug. “finish this and we can cuddle, okay? i pinky promise.”

“pinky promise?” you groggily whisper.

steve nods and sticks out a pinky and you waste no time to slink your own pink around and curl it tight, both of you pressing a kiss to your fists to seal the plan.

you practically chug the tea, and steve’s worried at first but then he’s just happy you actually drink it so <3

[jadewritesficshere]

Anniversary

Steve Harrington x female!reader

You and Steve celebrate your one year anniversary.

Warnings: pet names (Honey), p in v, creampie, cum play, breeding kink (not really but I'm adding it just in case)

18+only

You could hardly tear your eyes from Steve. He had worked all day and had just come home. He had changed into some shorts and his red sweater. His hair was falling slightly into his face, causing him to run his hand up and back through his hair.

Steve looked no different then any other day, but in this moment, even with the tiredness seeping through his bones, you could feel the love radiating off him as he smiled at you. The adoration in his gaze filled you with warmth.

You scoot closer to him on the couch, his arm absently going to the top of the couch so you could get closer. You move so close your thighs are flush against each other. You lean your ear against his chest, hearing his steady heart beat.

Steady. That's what Steve is. Reliable. Strong. Always there for you. One year together, and you couldn't imagine life without him. You both had to work today, unfortunately, so you decided to celebrate your one year anniversary tomorrow.

"What are you thinking Honey?" Steve gently trailed his fingers up and down your arm. "Kinda want to give you your present today." You mumble, turning your face more into his chest. You inhale deeply, the scent of Steve's cologne mixed with his sweat being so tantalizing. It was Steve. You wanted to bottle that smell.

Steve's chest vibrates as he chuckles," I thought we weren't getting gifts?" You shrug slightly. You don't even care if he didn't get you one, you wanted to get Steve something. You could buy every item in the mall and it still wouldn't be enough to show him how much you loved him.

"Want to exchange gifts tonight?" Steve asks softly. You pull back to look into his eyes," I thought we weren't exchanging gifts?" Steve's face flushes as he gives you a shy grin," Well i couldn't not get something for my best girl."

"Best girl?" You raise an eyebrow," Better be your only girl." Steve blinks and smiles," You're the only girl, Honey. The best and most beautiful the-" you duck your head as Steve scoffs," You are stop it! You're beautiful and amazing, you are my only girl. You're it for me."

Your heart flutters in your chest and you can't stop the smile that spreads across your face. Steve lightly taps your ass to signal for you to move. You sit up and he grins at you.

Steve slaps his knees before standing up," Well, alright then." He motions for you to follow and you stand quickly.

You waddle after him and the image of a chick following a mother hen pops into your head. You giggle slightly as Steve looks back over his shoulder at you. "Watcha laughing about?" He asks and you shake your head in response. He smiles softly and reaches back with his hand, grabbing yours and interlocking your fingers.

He leads you into the bedroom and drops your hand to open the dresser and start rifling through it. You lightly kick the door shut as Steve searches under socks and underwear for the gift.

You go over to the closet to grab his gift. You can't help but start to bite your lip from nerves. What if he doesn't like it? What if it isn't good enough? You had spent hours trying to find it but-

"Enough of that now, Honey," Steve murmurs as his thumb drags your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth. You inhale sharply from shock, not expecting him to have been so close. You turn and stare into his warm eyes. Steve's thumb lingers on your lip for a second longer before he slowly draws his hand away.

You push the rectangular box into his chest, his hand coming up reflexively to catch the gift. Your hand drifts off the package onto his pec, fingers flexing slightly snd squeezing. Steve smirks eyes trailing up and down your form. You clear your throat and tap the gift," Happy anniversary, Babe."

Steve beams at you and hands you a small square box," Happy anniversary, Honey. Here's to many more." You giggle elatedly and take the small box.

He shakes his gift, as if it would give him a clue to what is inside. Steve can't help but half laugh at your amused expression. He loves seeing you smile and would do anything to make you happy. He carefully opens the gift, folding the paper to use again later. The lid slides off the box to reveal a hockey jersey.

Steve's eyes light up, "Holy shit!" "You know how hard it is to find these jerseys in the middle of Indiana?" You tease as you watch him hold it up to himself. Steve is rambling excitedly about the player as he runs his hand over the number. The statistics fly over your head, but you are glad he liked your gift. You look down at your own present.

You tear open the carefully wrapped box, definitely wrapped better than yours. Ripped wrapping paper falls on the ground in pieces. You lift the lid on your box, tossing it somewhere behind you. Inside is a silver chain with the letter S on it. "Wanted everyone to know you're my girl." Steve takes the necklace out and motions for you to turn around.

You do so and feel the coolness of the chain lay across your neck. Steve fumbles connecting the chain for second, mumbling about how small the chain is, before getting it latched. He walks around you and stares at the S that sits above your chest. "Beautiful." He mumbles before looking into your eyes.

"Guess I'll have to get you a ring so everyone knows you're mine." You hands slide up his shoulders and land behind his neck. Steve blushes slightly as he grins wildly at you," Not if I get you one first."

Steve leans in slowly, lips barely brushing yours. A shaky exhale from either or both of you occurs before your lips meet. Soft and sweet.

It soon turns more frantic. Soft and sweet becomes passion and lust. Hands roam, tongues sweeping into each other's mouths, teeth lightly clashing.

The back of your legs hits the bed, you weren't even aware of Steve moving the two of you. You pull away long enough to discard your clothes, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. Steve trips trying to take off his boxers, falling face first onto the bed. He grumbles as he turns around, but all grumbling stops as you climb atop his lap.

Steve's hands automatically grab onto your hips, pulling you closer to him. You lean over him, holding yourself up with one hand as the other threads through his chest hair. Steve licks his lips as he eyes your bare breasts.

You grind slowly against Steve, feeling the veins on the outside of his cock rub against your folds. The tip of his cock rubbing against your clit in just the right way. Steve's hands grab and knead your ass as his eyes focus on the S of your necklace swaying against your breasts with every roll of your hips.

"Oh fuck me," Steve groans, darting his head forward to kiss and lick at your chest. You gasp in surprise and try not to moan at the feeling. Every one of your senses feels alight. Steve trails kisses up to your neck, leaving an open mouth kiss pressed against you. You can feel the warmth of his tongue collide with the cool of the necklace.

You aren't sure how long has passed, it could be five minutes or fifty, but you can feel the pressure building. Steve doesn't stop kissing, licking, and sucking on every inch of skin he can reach.

Stars alight behind your eyes as your hips spasm. You can feel your muscles tense and relax, the feeling of immense pleasure rushing over you. You aren't sure if you said his name or just moaned, but Steve's murmurs of praise fill your ears.

When the orgasm subsides, you can feel your release dripping down your thighs. Steve slowly rolls the two of you over, him propped up above you. "Did so good for me," Steve murmurs, kissing you lightly. Steve reaches over to the nightstand to grab a condom but you stop him and pull him back in for another kiss.

"I loved the present you gave me earlier," you mumble against his lips, pulling back slightly. Steve beams down at you, fingers trailing lightly down your face. "But it isn't what I wanted," you add, blinking up at Steve. Steve frowns slightly, brows furrowed. "Shit, did you ask for something and I forgo-"

"No." You smile, hand trailing up and down his lower abdomen, dangerously close to his dick. He shivers slightly at the feeling," then uh what was it you wanted? I'll go get it. Promise, anything you want I'll give you." Your grin turns slightly wicked as you slide your hands around to his ass, "I want to fuck you without a condom. Your cum. Inside me."

Steve groans and drops his head to your shoulder, faltering and pressing all his weight into you. His head burrows into your neck. His voice hitches," Fuck." You feel his dick twitch before a warmth spurts onto your abdomen. Steve moans as his hips stutter forward. You blink in shock before the realization hits.

"Did you just-" you look down as if you could see through Steve's body to your stomach. Steve whimpers slightly, nodding his head into your neck. "Sorry fuck sorry" Steve presses kisses into your neck with each word. Your hand trails up and down his spine, mind reeling.

You knew Steve would like the suggestion. You weren't expecting him to come just from saying it though. It was...kind of hot. The fact that he was so into you the thought of it alone sent him over the edge?

You shifted slightly under his weight as you felt that needy feeling appear again. Steve pulls his head back and gives you a pout," Fuck i wasn't expecting that. You can't just say shit like that." Steve props himself up and hovers over you, both of you looking at the evidence of his excitement smeared across your abdomen.

Steve sat up so he was kneeling between your legs. "What did you say you wanted?" Steve scooped some of the cum onto two of his fingers," My cum inside you?" Steve trailed his fingers down and slowly pushed into your weeping hole.

You moan at the feeling of his big fingers filling you up. It also felt slightly dirty, Steve fingering his cum into you. It was taboo, but so hot, you could feel yourself get wetter. Steve thrusts his fingers in and out, slowly at first before speeding up. He crooks his finger to hit that spot in you. You gasp as you buck your hips to meet his thrusts.

You grab his wrist haltering his movements, "Can you-? Are you?" You look down at his half hard cock," Need you." Steve swallows and nods, removing his fingers making you frown at the loss. Steve's fingers are coated in both of your releases, glistening in the light. He strokes his cock a few times, it hardening with each stroke.

"You look so good like this," Steve murmurs, leaning back over you. The tip of his dick catches against your hole, causing you both to inhale sharply.

You can feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly slides into you. Steve's brow furrows as his mouth falls open," Oh shit- can't believe you're- fuck." Steve moans slightly as he bottoms out.

He pauses only for a second before setting a brutal pace, fast and hard. Each thrust has you gasping. "Gonna fuck you so good. Gonna fill you up." Steve moans into your ear as he nips at your neck.

Each thrusts hits just right. Your breath catches, your heart beating wildly. The love and adoration in the room overflows, so sickly sweet. "I love you," you gasp into Steve's mouth as you kiss him. Steve groans into the kiss, licking deep into your mouth.

Your body shakes as you come undone. Your vision fades to black and the only thought you can think is Steve. Euphoria from every angle, pleasure alighting every nerve in your body.

Steve moans as he feels you clench around him. He picks up his pace slightly before he comes. You can feel the thick ropes of his release paint your insides. You half whine half moan at the feeling.

Steve's chest rubs against you with his labored breaths. He rests his weight on his forearms so he isnt pressed against you- not that you would have minded. "Did i say it back?" Steve asks causing you to blink up st him. His hair has flopped onto his forehead, stuck there from the sweat, "I love you too."

Steve slowly pulls out, eyes widening as he watches your combined releases slowly leak out of your hole. He licks his lips and lightly pats your thigh before getting up to grab a washcloth from the attached bath. He returns and cleans you up before laying down next to you.

"I love you so much," Steve wraps his arms around you," Definitely need to go look for a ring." You chuckle slightly and look up at him," Not if I find one first."

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ eddie munson is a “babygirl” boyfriend.

♡ steve harrington is a “babydoll” boyfriend.

that’s all.

[sheisjoeschateau]

"...at the Chateau, we'll be alright."

Steve Harrington x Jonathan Byers x fem!reader A crossover au inspired by Saltburn and Call Me by Your Name. Additional inpso from Joe's college theater performance as in Spring Awakening.

Song Inso: "Chateau" by Djo

Strangers to best friends to lovers. Slowburn. Angst, angst, angst. Fluff, fluff, fluff. Hurt/comfort. Romance, with polyamory themes and schemes. Smut with hella plot.

Summary: The reader lives with her parents at a fancy chateau, in France.  This year, her father offers their home as a housing sanctuary to a select student or graduate.  He decides to invite two graduate students to live with their family over the summer, coming from different working class backgrounds, and help with their academic paperwork as a professor of archaeology.

Steve Harrington: a rich kid from a swanky boarding school with a bad boy reputation and too much charm for his own good.  Surprisingly, his grades say otherwise.  A’s and B’s, his parents claim that is seeking one-on-one tutoring so that he can progress in his studies — but it sounds more like an excuse to ship him off for longer periods of time, giving them an out for having their son around during the summer.  The pretty boy’s all about ladies…but that’s only because he hasn’t met a boy who awakens his bisexuality.  Yet.

Jonathan Byers: a kid from the lower working class, excelling in his studies and AP programs at the same boarding school as Steve which he only got into because of community sponsorship and grants.  Quiet wallflower, little to no friends, a bit cynical.  A closeted gay, he’s more determined to stick with being perceived as “ace” than come out of the closet.  Until he goes to stay at a chateau with a handsome boy, and a beautiful girl who understands him.

Twists, turns and terrifying risks, you all put your hearts on the line that summer at the Chateau. Add the reader's cousin Eddie into the mix, along with her best friend Robin, Steve's ex-girlfriend Nancy, Jonathan's estranged mother and your progressive parents alongside Steve's absent parents -- it's a cruel summer.

But here, together at the chateau, you'll be alright.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ ⋆SNEAK PREVIEW⋆ ⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ This will be another series of mine, dedicated to my boy. Coming soon.

[excerpt from the story]

There was something about the way you twirled in your sundress that reminded Steve of the bible.

He wasn't religious, nor did he think any god truly loved or believed in him. But here, watching you exist in your garden of eden at the Chateau, the good book almost seemed real.

You resembled something otherworldly.  Heavenly, sent straight from above.  Innocent, yet wise.  Kind, yet strong.  Powerful and delicate at the same time.  Your laugh was soft, feminine and pure.  Your spirit was whole.  Your smile blinded him with joy.  Your beauty was divine, angelic and overwhelming.  You were too much…and yet, you could never be enough.

But that wasn’t because you yourself weren’t enough.  No, rather it was because Steve would never be able to get enough of you.  He could never be close enough.  He could never be near you enough.  He could never tell you enough words that would accurately describe the way that you made him feel.  

The word ‘enough’ simply did not apply when it boiled down to you.  

And yet, as Steve swept you up into his arms — discarding his books and his education down onto the lawn, much more driven to study you — holding you felt like that was all that he would ever need for his life to be considered enough.  The feeling of your waist in his grasp, his strong arms circling your petite torso as your hair flew in the wind of the circle he spun you in, felt like a tornado.  A cyclone, sweeping you both off your feet so that it could take you far away from everything and everyone.  You were this fragile flower in his hands, yet unbreakable.  Real, but too good to be true.  A true story, but a fairytale of the mind.

Jonathan saw you this way — but from a more niche, almost platonic point of view.  It was just as codependent, yet approached with more independence and the ability to exist on his own two feet.  He’d do whatever it took to keep you, no matter what the hell that took.  And he knew that to some degree, a pretty scary degree, that he needed you too.  But he was content with the need.  Satisfied, at peace.  Completely grounded, secure.  Unlike Steve, who smiled out of fear and loved with his whole heart on the line.  Because Byers knew how to be alone.  He knew how to rely on himself, fill his own cup even when it was empty — which was all the time.  Byers was the epitome of “I walk alone.”  The human embodiment of solitude.  He preferred your company, your grace and your presence.  It made him better, and stronger — because he’d known prior how to operate without it.

Harrington didn’t.  Harrington needed someone, all the time.  As an only child, the loneliness had suffocated him in his big house with no parents.  He’d had no one to shush the nightmares away, no one to hold him whenever the monsters felt near.  No one to run to and trust with any secret that he had.  No true friend who would listen to his most intrusive thoughts without casting him away.  No girl that wanted him in the ways that he so desperately sought to be loved, not just lusted after.  Until you came along, sheltering him from all his deepest and darkest fears, childhood traumas and the ever-looming possibility of rejection.  He had been a threat to himself, and you put that threat to rest with just a soft brush of your lips against his knuckles and the touch of your tender hands.  

Whereas with Byers, you made him feel seen but not disturbed.  You allowed him to be present without needing to overcompensate.  You granted him refuge, earning his trust with your actions instead of your words.  He didn’t need your touch to calm him.  Rather, he felt steadied by just knowing that you were here.  You knew that touch was never a friend to Jonathan, which is why you never pushed yourself in.  Instead, he found himself drawn to you.  He didn’t recoil at the physical contact made between the two of you.  A hug, a warm embrace that lingered just an extra second or two.  A gentle squeeze of a hand as you shot him a wistful smile.  The most feather-like of kisses pressed to his cheek to say hello, good morning, good evening or goodnight.  It felt…nurturing.  Assuring, fostering.

Out on the outstretched lawn in front of the Chateau, acreage upon acreage, Jonathan watched your hair gleam underneath the golden glow of the setting sun.  He let the Marlboro in his mouth dangle between his teeth, the curriculum resting upon his lap as the scent of nicotine and fresh air filled his senses.  The mixture of it was perfect for the scene laid out before him: Steve spinning you around, his white collared shirt unbuttoned just enough to wear his tie swung in the breeze as he continued swirling you around like a princess.  And when he’d placed you back onto your feet, he peppered every single inch of your face with an obscene amount of stolen kisses as you giggled like the darling that you so effortlessly are.  Jonathan felt his lips tug upwards at the corner, unable to help himself when it came to the two of you.  His shoulder angel and shoulder devil.

He turned the page of his literature books, revealing his unfinished letter that he’d begun writing at lunch in response to his mother.  Joyce had written to him, asking him to tell her everything about the summer.  How was it in France?  What was it like?  Were the hosts kind, was he being polite towards them?  What about you?  Were the two of you getting along, as well as the other student?

Jonathan glanced up from his scribbled cursive, back at the two of you.  Steve was cupping your cheek, placing a flower in your hair with his free hand before moving to cup your other cheek so that he was cradling your face.  His perfect, sharp nose nuzzled to the tip of yours sweetly.  Jonathan felt his heart swell as the two of you turned to look at him with pure love.  Your arms stretched out towards him, along with Steve’s, beckoning him.  Come play with us.  He grinned at you both wholeheartedly, holding up a hand — which you both knew meant he would, just a little longer.  You’d all learned each others’ love languages by now, along with how to communicate through gestures and expressions.  Body language was all of your specialty, in a multitude of ways that no one else could ever possibly understand.  Jonathan didn’t mind that.  It was only meant for the three of you.

Flicking his cigarette, he glanced back down at the incomplete letter he was ready to finish writing for his mother.  He took his pen, letting the ink spill onto the parchment. He'd already written down things earlier, telling her that your parents had taken them in as their own. He wrote about how much your father made him adore his studies in ways he never had before, and how he'd been inspired to help Steve study alongside him as an assistant tutor of sorts. He wrote to her about an Aperol spritz had somehow become the drink of the summer, using fresh citrus from the gardens of your estate, and how it made uncharacteristically sappy. How you and Steve made him that way too, even without the poison coursing through his veins.

Something about them makes me feel like I can, Mom.  I keep asking myself if this all just a dream.  Or maybe, it’s the past?  Not sure.  Either way, just thought I’d ask.  Not because I am seeking the answer, from you or the universe.  Rather, I’m simply existing and letting it all just happen.  C’est la vie.  I know…so very French. Perhaps I'm running a fever. A lovesick sort of fever.

Jonathan grinned down at his writing with wry amusement at himself.  At his life.

He turned over his shoulder, glancing back at the majestic chateau behind him.  Chateau Chalamet.  Your childhood home. His new home, as of that summer…which was dwindling away, day by day.  Every day that passed meant that he had less time.  All of you were losing time.  He sighed, resuming his writing.

I’ll turn back the time whenever this all ends.  In my mind, this will always be a home away from home.  Which is something I never thought I would say.  I’m not really sure what my future holds.  But it doesn’t really concern me at the moment. Now right now. Right now, I'm at the chateau and I feel alright. Love, Jonathan

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[anthonylockwoodandco111]

I hope will dies

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Would anybody interested in a fandom specific resource list of people who are interested in being betas? I'm not talking about just early reading and saying it's good. I'm thinking about grammar and helping authors with long fics with continuity and plot points.

[urhoneycombwitch]

Steve’s eldest daughter joins the drama team in 4th grade and gets the role of Charlotte in her class production of Charlotte’s Web. he fills an entire roll of film outside the red brick school building before the show 📸 her in her pretty dress that he compliments her on 🥹 some pics of just her, some with her and Auntie Robs and Uncle Eddie.

a few of you with the actress of the evening, cheeks pressed together, are some of his favorite photos ever taken. Jon did a fantastic job- Steve has one framed on his desk. your grin is a mile wide in it, and his daughter’s eyes have this gorgeous sparkle. (he brags about you two every chance he gets, that photo is constantly being showed off 💖)

all in all, there were nearly twenty of you in the group- familiar faces spanning across two whole aisles, chattering with excitement before the lights in the theater dim. you manage to hold it together pretty well, but break when your baby girl starts singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” in a soft, melodious voice (Steve had already been crying since the curtain rose).

she gets a hearty round of applause, Robin, Steve, and Joyce whooping the loudest 💥📣 uncle Dusty brought her a celebratory bouquet 🥹 the Sinclair twins, perfect blend of their parents, red braids and chocolate brown hair bobbing through the crowd after- they’re in your daughter’s grade this year. Jon sets the camera to auto time and gets a whole group shot 🤗 one that everyone in the group hangs on their fridge.

[loveshotzz]

Had to take my car into the shop this morning but hoping to have this up by 7 or 8 tonight for you guys 🎃 (central)

🎃 <-chapter two | mini series masterlist

[keeksandgigz]

Chapter 1: Les Usurpateurs

Part 1 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Somewhere in Northern Italy, 1983

cw: ~3k words, no smut (yet), EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!, a lot of unnecessary description for the vibes, reader is a bit of a cunt

notes: I'm back (I think)

Despite the lack of smut in this chapter, this and all my works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

There was something of a quiet intimacy in hearing the summer sparrows in the morning. Nothing but the gentle hum and chirp buried in the ripe peach trees. Thus marking the beginning of your yearly summer stay in Italy, of doing nothing but lounge around and savor the crickets at night, lying down on the couch of the villa your mother had inherited from her great grandparents. 

What you liked about your summers in Italy was that time seemed to go slower, at your leisure, spending it between the lake with your friends, the town just a short bike ride away or staying home buried in the pile of books you had brought over just to keep in your room, a bit overgrown, but unable to make it “too yours” because of the guests you’d have to concede your room to a mere four weeks after your arrival at the villa. 

Every summer, your father would host literature and art history students at the villa, aspiring professors, authors, archeologists, to help with their dissertations. They’d come with their american ways, obnoxiously disturbing the peace that you had created for yourself in the idyllic world you’d surrounded yourself into. Like that was a different astral plane you’d projected into, with the same friends as always, the same views, the same places to go. A different guest you’d have to surrender your room to for ten weeks, while you were banished to the communicating room, divided only by a shared bathroom. A small twin bed, an old desk and chair, a big enough window to let a good amount of light in, so you don’t suffocate and turn into a vampire. You despised that room. 

They always arrived on the first day of July, when the weather seemed to turn from needing a light pair of jeans in the evening  to clothes being unbearable. If you were in your room you’d limit yourself to a long enough shirt to keep you decent for the ghosts in the villa. There were no ghosts, but Giovanna, the housekeeper, would pop in from time to time to drop off your clothes– washed, ironed and folded. They smelled like citrus. 

You were reading The Count of Monte Cristo when the guest arrived. The rippling sounds of the gravel under the heavy tires of the car sounding like an alarm. You placed your book face down on the page you had been reading and ran to the window. Curious to see what the tide had brought this year. Maybe someone whose English wasn’t very good. Or some lunatic who could only stay inside because of his pollen allergy. You wondered what they would have looked like. Tall? Ugly? Obnoxious in the sense where you could hear them play shuffle and slam and bang doors and cabinets and drawers in the morning when getting ready? 

The car came to a stop in front of the door, right under the window of your room. The driver’s door opened, Giuseppe, the groundskeeper of the villa went around to open the trunk. Your heart thumped as you saw the passenger door open. It was a man. He was wearing a pair of white linen shorts, a blue flouncy short sleeve button- up shirt and gold- rimmed glasses. He pushed them up as he placed two hands on his hips, quickly removing one in favor of running his hands through his hair, styled and coiffed like he had not just come off an eight- hour flight. 

“You must be…” You’d heard your father say, placing a finger on his bearded chin, the name of the boy must have slipped him. 

“Steve. Piacere” the boy said, in an Americanized Italian, sounding like he had a hot potato in his mouth. 

“Ah! Steve, Benvenuto” your father said, bidding his welcome and shaking the boy’s hand. Your mother extended a delicate hand as well, introducing herself with a bright smile. At the same time, the opposite passenger door opened. Another boy. 

This one had long, frizzy hair. His face was framed by the bangs that stuck on his forehead. He was wearing a black t- shirt of a band you’d never heard of before tucked inside a pair of cutoff denim shorts held up by a belt, a chain clinking at the boy’s side as he stepped off the car. He wouldn’t let Giuseppe take his bags, insisting he could have done it himself. 

Your father followed the boy with his eyes as he carried what appeared to be a duffel bag and a beat up suitcase towards your father. 

“And this must be Eddie, then” your father said, as Eddie released his suitcase to shake your father’s hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” the boy said, and from this new angle you could see that he sported three chunky rings on his left hand and a chain necklace around his neck. Your father saw you peeking out the window and motioned for you to come down. 

“Shall we go inside? Show you around before dinner?” He motioned towards the boys as Eddie picked his stuff up once again and followed inside. You rolled your eyes. That was your cue to put on some pants and come downstairs. 

Your father’s office was just on the right at the bottom of the stairs, as you hopped down the marble steps. You heard chatter. 

“Oh there she is” you heard your father announce as you leaned against the doorframe of his office. You tended to dislike his theatrics “Boys, this is my daughter” the two guests turned around, reaching their hands to squeeze yours, as you firmly told them your name. 

“Hey, I’m Steve,” he said, fixing his glasses with his other hand. He was soft, but his handshake was firm. Hands bigger than yours. 

“You’re the archeology and history nerd” you quipped, a slight curl of your mouth followed it. 

Steve didn’t seem to like the name, as he let go of your hand, mouth in a straight line. Embarrassed. Put off. You needed them to know that they weren’t welcome here. 

“Hey, what’s up I’m Eddie” the other guy said. His hand was much more rougher and calloused than Steve’s, likely a guitarist. 

“You’re the soon to be failed author?” you tilted your head at him,

 you tilted your head at him, you heard your mother gasp, the indignation dripping from her mouth as she said your name. Eddie chuckled, a bit taken aback, but amused. 

“How do you like daddy’s money, hm?” It was your turn to be indignant. You heard your father snicker behind the boy, followed by Steve. Your hand brusquely retracted from Eddie’s, as your mother poured springs of apologies on your behalf. 

“She’s not like this, usually,” your mother said. Which was a lie. You were always like this. Rude, witty, sour. 

You heard the disappointment in your dad’s tone “Go show them their room” he said, an intimation for you to leave. 

“Make yourselves at home,” he said, before you guided them back upstairs. 

Eddie huffed up the stairs. You didn’t offer to take his bags, as he seemed to not need nor want any help. 

You opened the large pinewood door. 

“You guys are gonna sleep in here. This is my room, but it’s gonna be yours for the rest of your stay. I’m gonna be in the next room over. Unfortunately we’ll have to share a bathroom” You could see sleep calling to them, as their eyes opened and closed slowly at the sight of a made bed. 

Eddie dropped his bags and thumped on the bed, sleep immediately overtaking him. 

“You have to excuse him, this is the first time he’s traveled outside of the States,” Steve said, sitting on the bed, leaning to take his shoes off. 

“Nervous or what?” you asked, examining your bookcase in case you wanted to steal a book to take to your room. 

“Just not as lucky as many” Steve shrugged, laying himself down on the mattress “this is his big shot. If your dad likes his stuff it’s all uphill from here” Steve groans, voice full of sleep “thanks for lending us your room, let us know when dinner is.”

And that was that. The boy fell into the arms of slumber.  

And when Giovanna rang the bell to announce dinnertime, once again you peeled yourself away from The Count of Monte Cristo. You wondered if they were still sleeping. 

You wandered into the bathroom and towards the door as you shot a quick look at the two sleeping bodies on the bed. Eddie was snoring. You were unsure if you should have woken them up. 

You toyed with the bathroom door, swinging it between your hands. A grin decorated your face as you decided to slam it. Steve jumped awake, annoyed and scared. 

“Dinner’s ready” you muttered, reaching for the handle of the door. 

“I’ll pass, thanks” Steve said, shaking Eddie from his almost comatose state. The boy mumbled a semi- discernible “huh?” 

“Dinner, Ed. ‘m not going, but you can feel free to” Steve said to the other, but he just turned around and sleepily muttered an “‘mgood, thanks.”

“He’s good. We’ll apologize to your mother in the morning” Steve said, laying back down, ignoring you completely. 

Where’s my apology? 

You were thankful for the lack of guests at dinner. That way you were able to silently eat and then slither back into your room. Back into your book. Lulled by the crickets, and the whisper of the trees in the weak evening breeze. You ended up falling asleep. 

In the morning, Steve was already outside having breakfast with your parents. He looked like he had showered, but you didn’t recall the faint sound of the water running. He was wearing another pair of shorts, another flouncy shirt. Fumbling with a slice of toast, buttered with jam as he talked to your father about the morning paper. 

“This is gorgeous by the way” Steve admitted, looking around “your orchard?” he looked at your mother, who was smiling proudly at the compliment. 

“We grow a lot of fruit here, Giovanna makes apricot juice fresh every day” she smiled, biting into a slice of bread.

“You had a lot to say yesterday, now you’re a quiet little mouse?” your father teased, elbowing you lightly as you rolled your eyes. 

“It’s okay, she apologized” Steve said, an assuring look in his eyes “she didn’t mean that stuff. She told me, it’s just her welcome wagon” he chuckled, and you felt yourself grow red. Why would he save you like that?

Eddie popped out from the door, hair in a bun, changed out of his shirt in favor for a new one. 

“You should show them around some time, dear. Take them into town, maybe at the lake, I hope your father is not gonna keep them cooped up in his office for ten weeks” your mother giggled. 

“Yeah, no we’d love that. Maybe I’ll get some inspiration for the book” Eddie sat down at the breakfast table, between you and Steve as he fumbled with a soft boiled egg Giovanna had to crack open for him. Embarrassment was veiled on his face. 

You looked at his ringed hands, fumble with the small spoon. Did it always look so small? 

“We’re not gonna start until the beginning of the week, but I might ask you to go get some supplies into town today and take these two with you. Eddie’s gonna need some nice paper for his typewriter, won’t you?” your father gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, at which he smiled. 

“Have another egg” your mother encouraged the boys. Eddie dug into the pot again, getting more confident with the way he spread the runny yolk on a slice of toast. Some of the runny egg dripped in between his fingers.

Just not as lucky as many.

Steve passed. “I know myself too well, if I have a second, I’ll just have a third and a fourth and a fifth and then I’m just gonna have to get rolled outta here” he joked. I know myself. Self- assured, cocky. You wondered what it felt like to really know yourself, to have everything figured out like he did. 

You lent Steve Giuseppe’s old bike, Eddie got an old one of yours, the squeaky rusted tires alerting the two strangers’ presence. You were afraid you would have been pressured into giving one of them your own bike, seeing as you had already surrendered all of your possessions to them. 

It was a pleasant day. Not too incredibly hot to be embarrassed if the two boys were to see you, face riddled with uncomfortable beads of sweat, breath heaving irregularly from the dry air of July. Instead, a nice breeze came through the mountains, as you debated on going for a swim later in the day. 

That’s what you liked about your summers there. A swimsuit was always the wardrobe of choice under your summer clothes, the freedom to subsist in a plane of existence where your obligations began and ended within the span of a few miles of green grass and honeysuckle flowers. 

The two boys followed you down the graveled road into town, which seemed to be deserted, families abandoning their houses in favor of driving to the beach for the weekend. 

You asked them if they wanted to get a coffee, as you dismounted your bikes and parked them in front of a coffee place. 

You sat outside as you sipped from your espresso cups. 

“So” Steve broke the silence “What does one do around here?” you put down your book, the device you so desperately tried to ignore them with, trying to drown them out. 

“Wait for the summer to end” you mumbled carelessly, going back to the words on the page.

“Ok and then in the winter you wait for the summer to start?” Eddie snickered. 

“Seriously though, what do you do here the whole summer?” Steve interrupted, taking you away from your book again, as you tossed it on the table. 

“I read, mostly. Play music, swim at the lake, go out” you huffed out annoyedly, reaching for the book. Eddie preceded you.

“Kafka? What happened to Monte Cristo?” he flicked through the yellowed pages.

“I finished it. How’d you know I was reading that?” you snatched the book back from his hands. 

“It was on your bed before I slammed onto it. You should read something a bit more substantial,” he said “Kafka isn’t gonna teach you shit, why don’t you read Dorian Grey instead?” it annoyed you how patronizing his tone was. 

“I read that last year, thanks for the help” you retorted, taking the book back from him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Your dad seemed to make it abundantly clear that you need to be nice to us” Steve intervened, whining like a petulant child. 

“Or what? You’ll snitch on me?” you snapped, the two boys looking at each other. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” your nose curled at the nickname, “we’re not your enemies or whatever you think you’ve made us out to be. We really don’t want to be a nuisance to you” nothing about what he said seemed sincere. You rolled your eyes in response.

“Well,” Steve stood up from the metal chair with a violent noise, Eddie following suit “we’ll see you later,” as the both of them mounted their bikes and left. The creaking noises of the rusty old bikes followed in their pedaling. 

They finally got the hint. 

You spent the rest of your day at the lake, not really in a mood to interact with Chiara or Alessandro, two of your longtime friends. Instead, you made the slushing of the water current your friend, staring at the words on the page. Meaningless words. Kafka didn’t seem so enticing after all. 

When you got home it went back on the dusty shelf. Your hand lingered on the spine of Dorian Grey for a moment. The cover was brown and worn, it was your mother’s before it became yours, your heart picked up at the words on the spine, gold lettering. You thought about what Eddie had said earlier. 

You picked up Heart of Darkness instead. 

Read Part 2 Here

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @xxbimbobunnyxx, @aphrogeneias, @rowanswriting, @stveharringtn, @impmunson, @strangerstilinski, @lavendermunson, @rebelfell, @bimbobaggins69, @cryingglightningg, @thornsnvultures, @jamdoughnutmagician, @take-everything-you-can, @eddiesxangel, @ali-r3n, @emxxblog, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @yujyujj, @gregre369, @subconsciouscollapse, @aol19, @cooljadejacksonthings, @maeneedsabreak, @eddiesguitarskills, @freak-of-hawkins, @eddiesghxst

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

2.5k sleepover ♡

thank you all so much for 2.5k followers! i won't be doing a usual celebration this time around, even with as much as i want to and love that kind of celebration with fun requests, I have way too many wips that I'm currently working on and don’t wanna lose the spark while it's there... so this time it's just gonna be some fun little games! thank you again and I love you all immensely ♡

this celebration will run from now till the 10th of march. anyone can participate and you can send in as many asks as you’d like, there is no limit.

navigation | masterlist

our lips are sealed - tell me a random fact about yourself and I’ll say who I ship you with!

billboard dad - games! (cast your mutuals, fuck marry kill, would you rather…)

holiday in the sun - i'll give you a nostalgic song that has your vibe!

moots: @ddejavvu @oncasette @fightingdragonswithwho @fleurfairie @fxllfaiiry @magicchai @sunflowerharrington @luveline @gaelic-symphony @deeplywornletters @prettyboyeddiemunson @forourmoons @creelteeth @reidslovely @wonderlandhatter @appocalipse @lovetaints @starlit-moonlight @sapphireplums @wanturvideo @chvoswxtch @autumneverleigh @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @lucasnclair @midniteluv @sw34terw34ther

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ eddie munson’s pet name for his girl is def “princess”.

♡ while steve harrington is such a “honey” boyfriend.