#‘spin me next big boy’ and steve’s just standing there with his jaw on the ground like WHAT THE FUCK because his brain has malfunctioned

[strangersatellites]

pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

gluttony (noun) - a sin opposed to the virtue of temperance because it is the immoderate indulgence in the delights of food or drink. Gluttony can involve more than merely eating too much. Drunkenness is also a type of gluttony because it is excessive indulgence in intoxicating drink.

Steve’s drunk.

Hammered really.

His vision is swimming and his head feels heavy as lead and like it weighs nothing all at the same time. 

He’s walking, walking, walking. Going… somewhere.

Where?

He stumbles on a crack in the sidewalk and the only thing that keeps him from hitting the ground is the grip he has around Eddie’s arm.

Eddie!

“Hey, Eddddssss,” He giggles, and Eddie joins him, his snickers carrying out into the quiet night. “Eddie. Eddie, where're we goin’?” He thinks the words make sense but his tongue feels funny and he can’t really be sure if he made any sound.

Eddie’s laser-focused on his feet, working hard at putting one in front of the other. He comes to an abrupt stop and wobbles, unsteady. 

“Home. Is home this way?” He’s looking around fast and Steve thinks he looks like a squirrel. Giggles at the thought.

He tugs at Eddie’s arm. “Yeah. Home is this way.”

It’s a Saturday night and they’ve spent it out at a club with Robin and Nancy. What had started off as casual drinks and dancing quickly devolved, and the next thing Steve knew, he was doing tequila shots and making out with his boyfriend on the dance floor. 

Steve has trouble keeping his hands to himself on a good day. But especially when Eddie’s in leather and chains and his hands are on Steve’s hips and his rings are cold on his skin and his tongue tastes like liquor. 

He’d drug Eddie out by the hand, told Robin they were leaving. Lost count of their drinks somewhere between his fifth rum and coke and his third shot.

Now, plastered against Eddie’s back while he digs around through his pockets for their apartment keys he’s become very aware of just how drunk he is.

He presses his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut tight and whines,

“Ed. I feel spinny.” 

The door swings open with a bang and Eddie laughs out an “Oh shit.”

“Eddieeeeeee.”

Steve’s wrapped up in strong arms and he tucks his face into Eddie’s neck. “I heard you sweetheart.” He lifts Steve’s head up with hands on both sides of his face and Steve gets a good look at him and his giggles are set off again.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow but Steve’s laugh is contagious, his own bubbling up in response. “What are you laughing at, giggles?”

And that just makes it worse. Steve barely able to get out any words between. 

He reaches up and pokes at Eddie’s cheek and his eyes go big and wide. 

“There’s two of you.” He leans up and smacks two kisses on Eddie’s lips, tries to anyway. Gets the corner on his second attempt. “Two kisses for two Eddies.”

Both Eddies smile big and bright and he drags Steve back in for a kiss that goes dirty in a second. Teeth and tongues and the leftover taste of rum. His hands grab at Steve’s waist and squeeze, tight, tight, tight and the boy whimpers against his lips in response. 

He pulls away from Eddie and looks so shocked. “Babe,” he hiccups and laughs again. “Babe, I’m so drunk.”

Eddie’s the one that can’t pull it together this time. His “Me too, baby,” barely audible over the sound of his joy. A thought occurs to him and he stands bolt upright and his laughter comes to an abrupt stop when he gasps. “Stevie. Do you wanna have drunk sex?”

Steve’s jaw drops and he’s nodding. Words slurred together when he shoves towards their room, “Yeah, f’r sure. You’re s’smart.”

When his back hits their bed he has to squeeze his eyes shut again, still spinning if he moves too quickly. Eddie is fumbling with his belt buckle and Steve’s reaching down to help when he thinks of it.

“Ed, babe. Eddie. Eddie, what if my dick won’t work.”  

His boyfriend is dropping his head against his stomach and his shoulders shake with his laugh. His hand flattens to pet at Steve’s hips through his jeans that he really, really wants off. 

Eddie hiccups before he crawls up to kiss at Steve’s jaw, wet and sloppy and sticky with alcohol. “Think you’re gonna get whiskey dick, baby?”

Steve grinds his hips up against Eddie’s above him and gets a grunt in response, feels his own body react to the pressure and the lips behind his ear. “No, but like. Maybe. That would be so sad.” He closes his eyes while Eddie sucks a mark into his neck. “So sad.”

He doesn’t know when Eddie’s hand slid back down to his belt but he’s got it undone and his jeans unbuttoned between one blink and the next. His hand sliding down under Steve’s boxers and wrapping around his dick with a squeeze.

Eddie lifts up from his neck and raises his eyebrows. “Feels fine to me. Feels really good.”

If he wasn’t fighting to keep himself from coming in his pants like a teenager he might’ve laughed. He kicks a knee up and shoves Eddie off. “Why are you still wearing clothes, what the fuck?” And the way Eddie’s face screws up it looks like he doesn’t know either. 

Jeans and shirts and jackets and boxers find a home in a pile on the floor and someone will inevitably be looking for their phone later. 

But Eddie’s got his hand wrapped around them both and he’s spitting, sticky and wet over their dicks and Steve can’t be bothered with a thought of anything else. His hands scratch deep welts down Eddie’s back and he hisses at the pain. But the way his cock leaks over Steve’s stomach says it's a good hiss. On one particularly rough upstroke Steve’s orgasm takes him by surprise with a deep groan and his head thrown back. The alcohol flowing through his veins paired with his boyfriend’s guitar pick dangling in his face enough to send him racing to release.

The room is quiet save for harsh breaths and the slick sound of Eddie’s hand on his own skin. But Steve has an idea. He shoves at Eddie’s shoulders until he takes the hint and flops down on his back. Steve shimmies down the bed until he’s laid out between Eddie’s legs. 

He wraps a hand around the base of Eddie’s dick and points it towards his lips and Eddie’s thighs flex, bracing himself for the feeling of being enveloped in Steve’s pretty, pretty mouth. 

“I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say.” 

Eddie’s head pops up and looks down. Finds Steve, smiling bright and giggling using his dick like it’s a microphone. 

“I come home in the morning,” He’s got his eyes shut and his eyebrows furrowed and he’s really into it. “I go to bed feeling the same way!”

Eddie brings his hands up to cover his face but he’s laughing so hard no sound comes out. Steve keeps humming when he finally licks at the head and Eddie’s done for. Coming across his tongue the second his lips wrap around the head. He’s trying to catch his breath when he hears Steve’s voice again.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

He drags him back up his body to settle against his chest, still shaking with laughter, with joy. Plants a smacking wet kiss to Steve’s lips and presses their foreheads together. “God, I fucking love you, baby.”

Steve’s smile is blinding-bright and he presses one more chaste kiss against his lips. “I love you more, babe.” His smile goes mischievous and his head tilts to the side, the picture of innocence. “Can’t wait to tell your friends you came to Bruce Springsteen.” 

Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I blame whiskey dick.”

It's hours before their giggles settle enough to fall asleep.

[1986harrington]

i would die for #28 with steve lmao

Steve Harrington x fem!reader Prompt: #28 - I hate that you're mad at me but you look so hot right now Summary: When Steve doesn't show up on time for your date, he ends up on your bad side... Word Count: 1.3k

There were a lot of things you loved about Steve Harrington. 

You loved his honey-brown eyes, his good soul and his lionheart.

You loved the way he made you feel so seen; as though everything else was a haze to him and you were the only thing perfectly in focus. 

You loved his wild hair and the scratch of his stubble and the warmth of his skin. 

You loved the smell of him on your pillows, the way he never stopped making you laugh and the way he loved without abandon.

What you didn’t love, however, was his inability to be on time for literally anything.

It was 7:45pm on Friday night. More specifically, the night of the Hawkin’s High Snow Ball. All the kids were going - the boys donning ill-fitted suits and too-big hair, whilst the girl’s were swamped in glittery fabric and poofy tulle - and you and Steve were supposed to be chaperoning, per Dustin’s request.

Steve was working until five-thirty, so you both planned for him to pick you up at six-fifteen and head to the school for seven.

Yet here you were, over an hour later dressed in a floor length, strapless, shimmering dress - respectable enough for a school dance in that all your vital parts were covered, but tight enough that it didn’t leave much to the imagination - and your boyfriend was nowhere in sight. 

You had already removed your shoes a while ago, the straps of your heels uncomfortable even whilst sitting. You watched as the clock ticked by, eyed the phone on the wall and waited for it to ring.

At first you were simply annoyed, convinced that he'd lost track of time chatting to some old highschool friends at the video store, or that he'd simply forgotten what day it was and where he was supposed to be. But as the time passed by and he didn't call, a worry started to gnaw at your insides, settling uncomfortably in your chest until you felt your palms grow clammy and you grew restless, pacing around the living room as your dress swept along the carpet. You pressed a palm to the back of your neck, exposed from the way your hair was pinned up in a messy yet elegant up-do, perfectly waved strands loose around your face.

You tried calling the store, but by now it was after eight and they were closed for the night. You tried Robin's house next, but her mom said she was out with Vicki, with no mention of Steve.

You were just about to head upstairs to change into some sweats and head out to look for his car - which you were now imagining overturned at the side of a dark road or wrapped around a tree - panic rising in your chest and tears nipping at the back of your eyes, when you heard the rumble of an engine and wheels on the gravel outside. The headlights shone through your front window, causing your dress to glimmer like a mirage and when Steve finally tumbled in the door thirty seconds later, he looked at you like you were one.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I-" He panted, out of breath and bent over, hands resting on his knees before he lifted his head to look at you.

"Wow," He said, standing up straight, eyes raking over you, jaw hanging slack.

"Don't you dare." You warned, voice breaking slightly as you blinked, and the tears you'd been staving off finally fell, perfectly in sync down both cheeks.

You shouldered past him on your way to the staircase, gathering the length of your dress in your hands so you could climb the stairs without stepping on it.

"I- I was only gonna tell you that you look-"

"You were going to tell me I look beautiful," You finished the sentence for him, spinning around when you reached the top of the stairs. He stared up at you from the bottom step, with a look that suggested he was unsure if he was to agree or stay quiet.

"And honestly, Steve? There's nothing I would have liked to hear more from you. Two hours ago, which is when you were supposed to be here!"

You burrelled around, heading for your room as Steve followed you up, taking the stairs two at a time.

"I know, alright? And I'm so sorry, baby, I am." He pleaded, and you kept your back turned to him so he wouldn't melt you on the spot with those eyes of his. You reached the dressing table in your room, placing your hands flat against it as you heard him follow you in.

"I wanted to be here on time, I swear. But my shitty fucking radiator blew halfway home from work, so I had to walk to a payphone to call a mechanic, and after I called him, I realised I didn't have any quarters left to call you. And then the guy took forever to show, and he couldn't fix it on the road so he had to tow me to the garage and I'm sorry we missed the dance-"

"I don't care about the stupid dance, Steve!" You sobbed, turning to face him and he could see the remnants of fear still in your eyes. "I thought you'd been in an accident! That you were hurt somewhere, and I didn't know where the hell you were, and I called the store and then I called Robin-"

You were ranting now, breathless and panicky, words running into the next as Steve crossed the room to you, placing both warm hands on either side of your face.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here." He soothed, his forehead coming to rest on yours as your eyes fell closed. Your hands found their way into the front of his polo, knotting themselves there as you pulled him in closer until you were chest to chest and you could wrap your arms around him.

He huffed a laugh into your hair as you bear-hugged him, squeezing so tight that his breath caught in his throat.

"Hey now, careful or you'll pop a rib." He spoke against your temple, pressing a kiss there before you pulled back.

"I'm still mad at you." You declared, glaring up at him with a furrow in your brow, but the tears had stopped.

"Oh I'm sure."

"We missed the dance."

"Thought you didn't care about the dance?"

"Well I didn't when I thought you were potentially dead at the side of the road."

"Charming," Steve muttered affectionately, but you pointedly ignored him as you kept speaking.

"But now that I know you're alive, I very much care that we missed it. The kids are gonna be so disappointed and I spent all this money on a new dress and-"

"Can I just say one thing?" Steve asked, cutting you off mid-rant and you huffed, crossing your arms with an expression that told him to go ahead if he must.

"I hate that you're mad at me, but you look so hot right now."

A grin split wide across his face, reaching all the way to those caramel eyes of his as they roamed their way across your dress. You wanted to push at his chest and tell him he was a shameless dumbass, but for some reason - even after all the time you'd been together - his words still caused a flush to climb up your throat and color your cheeks his favorite shade of pink.

"This old thing?" You asked, half-turning to give him a better view of your ass as you glanced over your shoulder at him. "I was actually just about to take it off."

[mirkwoodsprinceofdoingtoomuch]

Steve spinning that nail bat is actually something that can be so personal. And sexy.

[americancowgirl19]

Babysitter

Summary: Peter gets stuck with babysitting.

Warnings: fluff

Characters: Peter Parker, Annie - Little Cousin, Aunt May, Happy, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1,318

A/n: This was an anonymous ask -  Hey i was wondering i would like to request peter parker having a 6 years old baby cousin (may and ben's daughter) and she knows about him being spiderman. She meets the avengers. - I’m gonna make Peter a little older. He’s about 19 and is in college but still lives with Aunt May. He’s just rarely home between school, friends and the Avengers. I also named the cousin Annie because I looked up Peter’s family tree and Uncle Ben’s mother was Ann so I went with it... I hope I did good, I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

“Aunt May,” Peter whines, following her into the kitchen. “I have the be with the Avengers in an hour, I can’t stay here and babysit,”

“Peter, you told me you would babysit today. I have to work and the regular babysitter is out of town until next week,” May tells him.

“Aunt May,” Peter groans. She sighs turning to him.

“Why don’t you just take her with you?” She suggests. Peter raises an eyebrow at her.

“Take her with me?” 

“Yeah, she loves Spiderman. It’ll be perfect,” Aunt May smiles slipping on her jacket.

“I can’t just take her with me,” Peter argues.

“Why not?” Aunt May asks, slipping her shoes on.

“It’s work, Aunt May. It’s serious stuff, dangerous superhero stuff... No place for a 6 year-old,” Peter shakes his head, crossing his arms.

“Oh, that’s funny because I texted Happy and asked him if it would be ok for you to take her and he says it’s fine,” Aunt May grins. “In fact, Tony’s pretty excited to see her”

“You talked to Mr. Stark?” Peter’s jaw drops. “Aunt May, when I go to the Avengers I’m Spiderman, I’m Mr. Starks righthand man. I can’t do what I have to do and watch Annie,” 

“Peter, you’re just going over there to try on new suits,” May tells him. “Maybe sit through a meeting, I don’t know,” She shrugs. “But it’s not like you’re taking her on a mission. Now, I know you want to seem cool and all that in front of the big boys,” Aunt May says causing Peter to whine and rub his face. “But you’re taking her. Now, I have to run, do not lose her,” She says pointing at him.

“That was one time and I found her,” Peter shouts after her.

“Say hi to Happy for me,” Aunt May shouts back.

“Ew, no,” Peter cringes. Aunt May blows him a kiss and walks out the door. Peter groans leaning against the wall, banging his head back.

Normally, he loves spending time with Annie. She’s his favorite person. He’s taken her swinging through the city every time she asks because he simply cannot say no to her face. 

However, taking her to the Avengers facility is something else. Ever since Mr. Stark brought him in to help out a couple of years ago he’s been trying to prove that he’s a worthy Avenger. He wants the others to take him seriously. 

Bringing his little cousin with him and running after her whenever she gets into things that she’s not supposed to will only restart the teasing period. Not that he ever got out of the teasing period but he didn’t want to give them new material to work with.

“I can stay here, Petey,” Annie whispers, peaking out from around the corner. Peter’s eyes snap open and he looks at her. His heart breaks at the pout on her lips. “I’m a big girl, I can look after myself,” Peter sighs.

Peter smiles, walking over to her. She looks down at her feet, fidgeting with her hands. Peter kneels in front of her and brushes some hair off her shoulder.

“Have you gotten taller since I last saw you?” Peter asks. She glances up at him.

“You saw me yesterday,” She reminds him.

“And I swear you grew an entire foot taller,” Peter shakes his head in amazement. “If you don’t slow down you’re gonna be taller than me tomorrow,” He says, poking her stomach. She smiles but tries to hold it back. “You are 100% a big girl,” He agrees with her. “Just because you can look after yourself doesn’t mean you have to,” He tells her. “Now, if you want you can stay here by yourself and be bored or you can come with me and meet some Avengers,”

“Can I meet Capin Merica?” She asks, slyly looking at him.

“I’m sure I can arrange a meeting... Maybe over some lunch?” Annie slowly begins to nod, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to,” Peter pouts causing Annie to grin even more.

“It’s ok, you can make it up to me with some ice cream,” Annie assures him. Peter grins, laughing a bit.

“Oh, is that right?” He asks, and she nods sticking her chin up. Peter smirk scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. She giggles as he tosses her in the air and catches her. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Stark has some ice cream we can snag,” He promises.

“Why don’t you go get ready? We’ll leave in a couple minutes,”

“Ok!” Annie shouts racing to her room. By the time she was ready, Happy was there to pick them up. Peter had gone to sit up front with him when Annie slipped in first. “Thank you for opening the door, Petey,” Annie grins, clicking her seatbelt in. Peter’s mouth drops as he looks at Happy who just shrug.

“She’ll be alright,” Happy promises. Peter groans, closing the door and climbing into the back. Happy closes the divider preventing him from seeing up front. Peter pouts but grins a bit when he hears Annie giggling.

It didn’t take them too long to reach the facility. Peter jumped out of the car to race after a speeding Annie. He grabs her hand before she can get through the door.

“Don’t run away, Annie,” Peter scolds. “I’m supposed to be watching you,”

“I wanna meet Capin Merica!” Annie shouts.

“And your wish is my command,” Tony says, walking up to him with Steve Rogers beside him. Annie’s eyes widen and her mouth drops. Peter watches her expression and grins.

“You look just like my action figure,” She whispers. “But you’re bigger,” She admits. Steve smiles, kneeling in front of her. 

“Introduce yourself,” Peter whispers, nudging her.

“Hi! I’m Annie Parker,” She basically shouts. Her hand shoots out for him to take.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Annie, I’m Steve,” He says shaking her hand.

“Cap here is gonna show you around,” Tony say clapping Steve on the back when he stands back up. Annie slowly gasps. “I’m gonna steal your cousin for a little bit,”

“Ok,” Annie shrugs leaving Peter for Steve.

“No loyalty,” Peter shakes his head watching Annie willingly walk off with Steve.

“Tell me about it, who chooses Captain America when you have Ironman?” Tony scoffs. “It’s gotta be the blond hair,”

“I think you’re perfect, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him.

“I thought we were past the whole you kissing my ass stage?” Tony asks. Peter struggles to figure out what to say next. “Never mind, I’ve got you a new suit,”

Peter wanders off with him hoping that Steve doesn’t loose Annie or else he’ll never hear the end of it from Aunt May. He stayed with Tony for a couple of hours before they hunted Steve and Annie down.

They found them in the common room with some of the other Avengers. At the moment Annie was with Natasha. Natasha was whispering secrets to Annie, most likely ways to get into trouble but get away with it. Annie was soaking every work up with a mischievous grin.

Bruce sat next to her, grinning and shaking his head. Annie was sitting in his lap but was also completely ignoring him in favor of Natasha. Steve seemed to be finishing up a bowl of ice cream on the opposite couch. When Peter looked back at Annie he noticed leftover ice cream smears on her cheek.

“Hi, Petey!” Annie shouts waving at him.

“Hi, Annie,” He waves back.

“Do we have to leave?” She pouts. 

“No, we can stay a little longer,” He promises her. Her face lights up and she instantly goes back to whispering with Natasha.

“She’ll be our little spy in no time,” Tony comments.

“Aunt May’s gonna have a heart attack,” Peter mutters.

[platypanthewriter]

Lilies of the Valley

This one’s for you @mourntheantagonist​!  And @cherrydreamer​, thanks so much for the loan of your name!

Harringrove April Prompt day 30: Lilies of the Valley!  Neil had opinions about Billy's mom, and Billy's mom's makeup, and Billy.  What he thought doesn't matter anymore, but Billy's still a little worried about bringing it all up to Steve.  GNC Billy.

When Billy was five, he’d tried on his mom’s gold pumps and her rainbowy nail polish, and she’d laughed and spread her arms for him to stumble into.  “Hey, glitter-bug,” she said, kissing his head all over until he giggled, trying to protect his neck from her attack.  “How’s the prettiest boy in town?” she whispered, blowing raspberries down his chest and stomach, and then finally letting him up once he was giggling so hard he couldn’t breathe.  

She’d let him sit on her fancy vanity stool, spinning him now and then so they could see how he looked from different angles in the three mirrors.  “Oh no,” she whispered, her eyes very wide.  “I thought you were prettiest from this side, but every new side is prettier!  How is it, sir, being the prettiest,” she asked, offering him an imaginary microphone.

He beamed into her face, and cleared his throat.  “You’re the prettiest,” he told her, his eyes big with anticipation, and sure enough, she yelled and scooped him up, dumping him on the bed and cuddling him until they’d both laughed so hard their lungs hurt.  

“You are,” she whispered.  “I made the prettiest boy in the world.”

“You’re the prettiest girl,” he said loyally, and that time she kissed his nose.  “Anyway,” he whispered, “—you have…” he trailed off, reaching up to touch the sparkling powders over her eyes, and the bright greasy red on her lips.

She drew a shaky breath, pushing herself up, and glancing towards the door.  “...do you want to play with my makeup, baby?” she asked, and he sat up too, springing upright so fast they nearly clonked heads.

“Can we?” he asked, keeping his voice low, like hers, but nearly vibrating with excitement.

She bit her lips together, tucking some of his curls behind his ear.  “You know how there are some things we keep secret from Daddy, sweetie?”

Billy squirmed around to face her, nodding, and folding his hands like a grownup.  “Like when you kiss Mrs. Sally,” he whispered, then, belatedly, cupped his hands over his mouth.  

“Like that,” she told him, nodding.  “If I’d kept kissing Sally, he might have found out, and not let me see my lil’ glitterbug anymore.”

“I won’t tell,” Billy said, shaking his head, his heart pounding with the weight of adult responsibilities.  

“I know you won’t,” she told him, smiling, but she looked sad.  “But I can’t do anything that might make Daddy take you away, can I?”

Billy shook his head, wondering, as always, why his mom had married someone who didn’t like either of them very much.  He kind of wanted to ask, but she reached out and held his face, squishing his cheeks together like a fish, and he batted at her hands.  

“Makeup is like that,” she told him, and he frowned, trying to understand.  “If I put makeup on you, Daddy will be very angry,” she told him.  “So we have to wash it off before he gets home, and keep it a secret, just like me kissing Sally, right?”

It didn’t make a lot of sense, because Billy had seen his dad fussing with his hair, and his ties, and he knew his dad wanted to be pretty too—but maybe, he thought, his dad was mad because he was jealous, and that kind of fit.  He nodded seriously, licking his lips, as he wondered what the lipstick would feel like.

It felt weird and sticky, but it looked beautiful, and he gasped as he opened his eyes in the mirror, leaning closer to touch the mirror, and then touching his lips.  

“You’ll smear it,” his mom said, smiling, and Billy yanked his hand back into his lap.  He closed his eyes and felt the shiny powders brushing over them, his mom’s warm hand steadying his chin.  Very slowly, so as not to jar her efforts, he kicked his feet in happiness.

“There,” she said,” rubbing her thumb along his eyebrow, and squinting into his face.  “You’re adorable, honey.  Your mamma did so good.”  She spun him to look in the mirror again, and he stared as she kissed his cheek, and then redid his lipstick, because he couldn’t stop chewing at it, fascinated.  “Other mommies would be so jealous of my lil’ glitterbug,” she whispered.

An hour before his dad got home, she popped him in the bath, leaning in to scrub his face gently, and he sighed to see it go.  

“We’ll play again, sweetie,” she told him, kissing his forehead.

That night Billy’s dad clicked his tongue at her bright red lipstick, and went and got the Bible.  He made them stand, listening, while their dinner got cold.  

“‘Therefore I say unto you,’” he read, “‘Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. For the life is more than the food, and the body than the raiment.’  What do you suppose that means, Billy?”

Billy watched his mom shut her eyes, swallowing, and he tried to think, to get it right, but he never understood the Bible.  He told his mother once that he thought they should have somebody write it all down that talked normal, and she laughed for the whole afternoon, and then told him that was another thing to not tell his dad.

“I thought that school was teaching him to read, and now he can’t even understand language,” his dad said, and Billy’s mom flinched.  

“It means we should think about god more than looking pretty,” Billy’s mom said dully, and Billy watched her, and then his dad, wondering why he’d even wanted to marry her, because she was beautiful and funny and perfect, and Billy’s dad even got mad over things like the neighbor’s Christmas lights.

She didn’t wear the bright colors, after that.

 Years later, Steve was driving back from picking up burgers, and Billy shoved a handful of fries in his mouth, and slurped his soda.

“You ever miss fucking a chick,” he said, weirdly flat.

“Uh,” said Steve, who hadn’t.  “...um.  Uh, d’you?” he asked, warily, and Billy shrugged, unwrapping his burger.  He took a huge bite, grunting appreciatively, and Steve tried to think of what to say.  “What...are you missing,” he asked, slowly, and Billy smirked over.  

“Nothing big, don’t flip your shit,” he said, taking another bite of burger, and staring out at the passing scenery, as Steve tried not to shake him, or bite his lip, or look like he was flipping his shit.

“...what is this,” Steve asked, finally, clenching his hands on the steering wheel.  “You cheating on me?!”

“No,” Billy said quickly.

“You want to?  You wanna break up?!  Where the fuck is this going, Hargrove?!” Steve hissed at him, and Billy sighed, letting his head thunk into the window.  

“No, fuck you, I don’t want...any of that,” he sighed.  “Calm your tits, Harringt—”

“Fuck you,” Steve spat back.  “If you’re fucking bored—”

“No!  I didn’t mean that!” Billy shot back, throwing a french fry at him, and Steve grabbed it and ate it, chewing with his mouth open, and his teeth bared.  “Fuck you,” Billy sighed.  “I just asked you a question, don’t get all pissed.”  He sighed again, lowering the burger to his lap, and frowning past it.  “I just wondered.”

Steve had kinda relaxed, waking every morning and seeing Billy sprawled next to him, his hair in his open, snoring mouth, and he’d forgotten he was Steve Harrington, the guy people left.  “Fuck,” he whispered.

“I just meant the—they’re soft,” Billy said, glancing over, and then back down, his jaw working.  

“You’re saying I need to get fat?” Steve asked dryly, through his teeth, as he pulled into the garage.

“No!” Billy shoved him against the door of the car.  “Forget it.”

“Not likely,” Steve muttered.  Billy shouldered past him into the house, and then ignored him until Steve went to bed, and Steve laid up in their bed alone.  He didn’t cry much, but the couple tears that escaped went right in his ear, and he was tempted to just...go down and throw every porn cassette he’d ever owned at Billy’s head.

 The next morning he got up and made bacon and eggs—he was hungry, even if Billy was being an asshole—and Billy came in and helped himself.  

Billy’s eyes were swollen and red, and Steve didn’t know what to do with that—he’d never broken up with anybody he really liked, he thought, dully.  Maybe it was hard.  “Sorry for trying to have a conversation,” Billy hissed, and walked off, and Steve slid his plate of food aside, suddenly not hungry.  

After a few minutes, Billy stomped back in.  “What, you gonna stay out of rooms I’m in now—” he started, snarling, and then he stopped, and probably took stock of Steve’s head in his arms on the counter, and his breakfast getting cold.  Steve jerked his head up, rubbing his face.  “Fuck,” Billy muttered, grabbing Steve around the waist, and turning him enough to kiss.  “I don’t…” he said, softly, biting his lip.  “I don’t want somebody else.  Don’t be a fucking dumbass, jesus, of course I don’t want someone else—”

“How the hell should I know?!” Steve hissed back, but relaxing, a little, into the kisses.  “You just said you missed fucking women.  I’m not one, if you missed that—”

“I didn’t say that,” Billy told him, taking Steve’s hands.  “I asked if you missed it.  Stroking your hands up here,” he breathed against Steve’s lips, and slid Steve’s palms up where Billy’s sides were shirtless and smooth under his denim jacket.  “Feeling something...elastic, maybe,” he whispered between open-mouthed kisses, and lifted Steve’s hands up farther, to stroke over his nipples.  “Something silky.”

It felt like the conversation had taken a sharp tilt, and Steve felt like the marble in a little maze, trying to avoid dropping through the holes.  “...on you,” he whispered back, to be sure, trying to imagine it.  

Billy was perfect already, he wanted to say, from the little softness over the waistband of his jeans where he’d stopped working out so hard, once he was away from his dad, to stretched pink scars that reminded Steve there were more places to kiss.  But Billy was already withdrawing again, his shoulders hunching as he smirked, and Steve tried a “Keep talking.”

His hands were abruptly fuller of Billy as he leaned in, shoving Steve back against the counter.  “I gotta keep things fresh, right,” he whispered.  “Make sure you still want what I got.  Maybe…”  Steve waited as Billy searched his face, biting his lips, and then took a shaky breath.  “Maybe dress up...a little,” he mumbled, losing momentum, and Steve hurried, feeling the need to catch some fragile part of Billy before it smashed.

“You wanna dress up for me?” he asked, making sure to grin, because it honestly sounded weird, but Billy wanted to—and Steve didn’t really give a shit about flowers, either, but even if they gave him hayfever, he knew to be happy when somebody picked him out a present.  At least, he thought, whatever Billy was talking about was unlikely to make him sneeze.  

Billy’s smirk went a little smaller as he flushed, and he laughed, shaking a little.  “If—if you want,” he said fast, grinning tensely.  “If you...if that…” he muttered, looking a little shiny-eyed, and Steve slid his hands around the soft, scarred skin of Billy’s back, and down toward the swell of his ass.  “Imagine something bright down there,” Billy whispered, breathing against Steve’s jaw.  “You could snap the elastic, pull me over.”

That sounded like Billy Hargrove wanted to wear lace panties, and Steve fought back an instinctive snigger, squeezing him closer, and trying to think of something to say, something that wasn’t “You’d make duct tape hot, babe,” or “Y’know we could not do that, and just fuck,” or anything else that made it seem like Billy’d asked him about something weird as hell, and important to Billy, and Steve hadn’t even listened.  “Yeah,” Steve whispered, not sure what was required.  “Sounds hot,” he said lamely, but Billy relaxed against him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, nodding, and laughing, and stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair so clumsily he almost poked Steve in the eye.  “Yeah, yes, it’ll—it’ll be good, you’ll like it,” he whispered against Steve’s lips.

 The next day Billy disappeared after school, and came home squirming and pink-cheeked.  He wandered up like nothing was going on, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve turned and drew him in.  Billy had his jacket buttoned, for once, and a flushed smirk, and Steve unbuttoned it from the bottom, sliding his fingers up over what felt like soft, elasticy cotton.  It was a clingy little camisole thing, he realized, nearly a tanktop, nearly unisex, but the satin edging around the top, the thin straps, and the bright red put it squarely in the women’s section.  

Billy laughed nervously.  “It’s not even that pretty,” he said, glancing at Steve’s face, and then baring his teeth a little into the distance.  “Fuck, this was dumb, in this little hick town, I couldn’t even find anything—”

It was stretched out across Billy’s chest, not the shape it expected to fit, and his nipples showed around the straps, the soft fabric clinging to his skin.  “No,” Steve whispered, sliding his hands over ropy satin straps, and Billy’s skin.  He ran a finger along the strap and down, his nail catching on Billy’s chest, so he shivered.  “No, it’s—it’s really...pretty, Billy,” Steve breathed, and Billy reddened like Steve had never seen before, his smile widening into a beaming grin.

“They’re just cotton,” Billy whispered, “—but they were red, at least—” 

Steve smoothed his hands over the soft fabric.  He slid his fingers down the back of Billy’s jeans, and felt—yep, he thought, grinning as he felt Billy laugh, another thin elastic edge that definitely wasn’t Fruit-of-the-Looms.  “Just cotton,” Billy whispered again, sighing.  

Steve had bought lingerie before, but he’d never really thought about it for Billy—or even Nancy, who was too ticklish for lace, and liked the spontaneity of showing up and pushing Steve onto his back on the couch more than she wanted to set anything up with candles and rose petals.  He felt a little guilty, though, seeing Billy squirming around, panting a little, his dick hard as a rock in plain cotton briefs, red or otherwise.  “So you…” Steve started, and then stopped, uncertain what he was trying to say.  

“What,” Billy bit out, glaring up at him, which looked...less than intimidating, in what looked like underwear for a kid, or somebody’s mom.  Steve ran his fingers along the line Billy’s dick made in the panties, fascinated, and it twitched.  Billy jerked his knee up, grinning, his freckles fading into his blush.  “Quit it,” he said.  “You’ll make me mess ‘em up.”

“...you like being...pretty,” Steve said, and Billy twitched, pulling his knees up and together.  “No, don’t, uh, don’t pillbug up,” Steve told him, leaning in to hug his boyfriend’s knees.  “Um, how...how pretty?  What...what kinds of…”

“The hell d’you mean how pretty,” Billy growled, warily, and Steve bent his head, pressing a kiss to Billy’s tanned knee.

“You just...want pretty clothes?” he asked, as Billy took a shaky breath.  “I just—I mean, you were talking about...girls.  You want like…” Steve ran his thumb over Billy’s tense, curled toes.  “You want I should paint these?”

“God, will you?” Billy asked, pushing himself up as he yanked Steve into a kiss,  knocking them both off-balance so Steve landed on top of Billy in his soft, elastic cotton, and Billy groaned.

“Yeah, I’ll paint ‘em,” Steve whispered, kissing Billy’s hot face.  “Don’t...really think you can get much prettier,” he said, feeling Billy’s cheek grin under his lips, “—but I’ll help.  I might have something upstairs.”

“The hell would you have,” Billy snorted.

Steve felt indignant for a second, then kind of dumb as he shot back “I could wear nail polish, you don’t fucking know,” before he registered that it probably hadn’t actually been an insult, and he started to feel his ears go red.  He cleared his throat.  “...uh, no, though.  I don’t.  But my mom.  There’s some of her stuff up there.”

“Oh,” Billy said, sitting up.  “You...you’d let me use your mom’s stuff?”

“Why not,” Steve shrugged, pulling him up.  “Maybe she’s got some nylons or something.”

“Holy shit,” Billy whispered, but he grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him back around.  “You don’t think she’d...she’d think it’s gross, right,” he asked, still smirking a little, like he was trying to keep it up.  “She wouldn’t want some dude wearing her nylons.”

“You’re not some dude,” Steve said, rolling his eyes, “—and if she’s so damn precious about ‘em she can buy some more, come on.”  He drug Billy upstairs—Billy was very manhandleable, in bare feet and a sheer cotton underwear set, and Steve tried not to think about the difference it made—and pushed Billy down to sit on his parents’ chintz duvet cover.  He dug through her drawers, and found some nylons, and brought them over.  Billy laughed, wide-eyed, and Steve reached down and grabbed his foot, thinking.  “...y’know what,” he said, “—Mom used to do all this stuff to her feet, and I bet it kept her damn nylons from running.”

“...you saying I should go get a pedicure?” Billy snorted, and Steve shook his head, squeezing his boyfriend’s toes.  

“Nah.  Lemme see what she’s got, we can figure this out,” he mumbled, pulling out drawers.  “Can’t be that hard.”

“...you gonna give me a pedicure,” Billy muttered, like he didn’t know whether it was a question or not, and Steve was about to roll his eyes when he finally found the right drawer. 

“Oho,” he said, grinning over his shoulder.  “The mother lode.  Come look at the colors.  I mean, they’re mostly kind of pink, but there’s some reds.”

The bed creaked as Billy got up and came over, and his breath hitched.  He reached towards the lipsticks, and then jerked his hand back, and Steve grabbed the reddest one, and leaned to kiss him, softly, opening the lid.  Billy closed his eyes, panting a little, and Steve kissed him again, because Billy’d probably wanna sprawl around looking pretty for a while without anybody smearing it, once he had lipstick on.  

“Open your mouth, babe,” Steve said, and Billy did.  Steve could feel the pulse pounding in the skin under his fingers, but he just brushed the tip over the corner of Billy’s mouth, narrowing his eyes intently.  

Billy licked the tip of the lipstick, and Steve hissed at him, hsht! like Billy was a little kid, or a cat.  “I can’t do this if you eat it,” he pointed out, and Billy laughed.

“It tastes the same,” he said, softly.  

“...you eat it a lot?” Steve asked, realizing he had mouth open in concentration, and his tongue licking his teeth in the direction he was rubbing the lipstick on.  He bit his lips together, smiling in embarrassment.  

“I used to,” Billy said, letting Steve turn his head left and then right, and smiling.  “Mom would dress me up.”

Steve paused for a second, at that, his hand on the lipstick stilling, and then he started again.  “Dunno if I’ll do as good a job,” he said, and Billy laughed again, swallowing hard.  “...maybe I’ll get better with practice,” Steve told him, and Billy grinned, yanking him in for a hard kiss.  “Who-mmmph,” Steve protested, then leaned into it, feeling Billy sigh contentedly, and hum.  

When Steve pulled back, his dick went half-hard just for the way Billy looked, leaning back against the side of the bed in his soft red underwear set, his eyes closed, his grin smeared and lazy.  The red stood out, shiny and rich, and Steve wished—silently, to himself—that lipstick ever tasted even a tenth as good as it looked.  “...jesus, that’s nice,” he said.

“I’m the prettiest, right,” Billy whispered, and a couple tears leaked from under his closed eyelashes.  He sniffled as Steve lifted and turned his chin to fix his lipstick.  “Shut up,” he said hoarsely, even thought Steve hadn’t said a word.

“...just thinking you look gorgeous,” Steve told him.  “You look so pretty, babe.”

“...’life is more than the food, and the body than the raiment’,” Billy said, snorting a laugh, and Steve said “...what?”

“It’s a bible thing,” Billy said, his eyes widening as Steve pulled out a tray of eyeshadows, and held them up to Billy’s face, squinting.  

Steve squinted, decided the green would make Billy look like he had a weird Christmasy disease with the lipstick, and pulled out the other one, pinks and golds.  

“...it means you should worry more about following god’s word than dressing up like a slut,” Billy said, quirking his mouth.  “‘Consider the lilies, how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin; yet I say unto you, Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’  Like, God makes you like he wants, you shouldn’t...change it.  Try and...look...different.”  Billy sighed.  “He used to make us say it whenever we asked for new clothes.  I told him I might as well go to school naked, then.”

“I don’t remember the part in the bible where Jesus called people sluts,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss Billy’s cheek, and then concentrating on brushing gold over his eyelids.  

“Just be as nature made you, y’know, don’t...try to be...what you’re not,” Billy said, smirking.  “He never found out I wanted to wear lace panties.”

“Good,” Steve told his boyfriend, then whispered “God,” as he sat back.  “...Billy, god made you a lily.”

“What?!” Billy laughed, scrambling up to go look in the bathroom mirror.  He was quiet for a long minute, and Steve got up and followed, grimacing.

“I’ll get better with the little brushes,” he said, leaning through the door, but Billy was just making kissy faces at himself, entranced.  

“I’m the prettiest boy in the world,” he breathed, and Steve bit back a laugh.  “Come here.”  Steve wandered over to slide his arms around Billy’s waist from behind, and kiss his neck.  “...you like it, right,” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, squeezing him.  

“Come on,” he said, “Lemme do your toenails.”

“Jesus,” Billy said, giggling, kinda, his eyes shiny, and Steve just held him there, letting him look.

 The next day, Billy changed the oil in his car, his nails and lips red, and his face smeared with engine grease when Steve pulled him out from under the car for a kiss.  While he was tinkering, Steve drove clear to the Indianapolis Victoria’s Secret.  “I’m dating an Olympic swimmer,” he told them, having practiced the lie.  “She’s got no tits and these big shoulders, and she’s hotter than anyone else in the world, can you help me out?”

My other Harringrove prompts are here!

[catharrington]

Nothin’ but a good time. (E, 4.2k words)

@harringroveweekoflove day 1: POOL SEX. Also included: body worshiping. Billy being a jerk. Steve being dumb in love. And accidental voyerism.

***

“That sounds like a bad idea, Bill,” Steve had whispered. His hair making a pretty fan out along Billy’s bed sheets. His face sweaty, sticky, his hair colored black as the moonlight as it shifted around with his movements. His shoulders rolling to get comfortable. His plush, bright red, lips chewing on the lit cigarette between them.

Billy turned so he could see more. See how King Steve, his King Steve, looked as he so gracefully fell from grace. Really, as he so gracefully fell from Billy’s spent cock. Now limp and wet between his legs. Quickly getting colder in the chill of the drafty Hargrove house on Cherry Lane.

No matter what, Billy couldn’t look away. Propped himself up on his elbow even so all he could see was Steve’s gorgeous face. His naked chest. As it moved with each breath.

“Fuck,” he mused out loud. Billy’s wandering eyes, his parted lips gasping for a breath of air, made Steve’s own breathless exhaustion break into a cocky smirk.

“What were we talking about?” Billy chucked low.

Steve rolled his eyes. Sucking on the end of the filter of his smoke so some ash, some lit cherry sparks, tumbled down to his moonlight-dark chest hair.

Billy didn’t hesitate in reaching out his hand not supporting his weight to rub the ash into his skin. Mess up his carpet of curls, feel how damp with sweat fucking Steve left his chest hair. He flexed his fingers, dragging blunt nails through the coarse hair.

It only made Steve’s breath catch a little. His smile growing ever wider. “The extremely romantic date night you just asked me on, lover boy?” Steve mutters. Like Billy’s an idiot.

He feels like an idiot. With his hand feeling up Steve’s shapely, muscular chest. Feeling up his bushy chest hair. Feeling the way his heart is working under his skin. An idiot in love, for sure.

“Let me fuck you at the public pool.” Billy repeated what he had asked.

Had asked when? Steve was above him, his narrow waist working his whole body in seizing jerks over Billy’s cock. His thighs bulging, his head thrown back. Steve was so beautiful— Billy’s brain didn’t work sometimes while he watched.

“It’s all I can think about at work,” he admits at the end. Adds it on like a confession.

Steve’s smile falters. His brows pulling down as Billy’s voice takes on a much more serious tune. “You’re serious?” Steve asks.

“As a heart attack.” Billy breathes out.

Steve breaks eye contact. His big browns drifting downwards in consideration. “So, is this some public fetish you have?” He says it so quiet, in a whisper, moving his eyes back to look out from under his dark lashes at Billy. “Or... if you’re trying to impress me, baby; know you’ve already got me. All right?”

Billy’s hand stops moving across Steve’s chest. He holds onto his shoulder to balance as he climbs across Steve’s long legs. Straddling him just like how Steve had. With all the intentions of pinning him down, drinking him up.

“Oh, I got you, huh? Pretty boy?” Billy leans forward so his hair spills out across Steve’s collar bones. They jump up as if to meet his kisses as Steve’s breath hitches.

“Bill,” Steve hisses quietly through clenched teeth. His head, with the still lit smoke, moving back as he tries to keep Billy’s hair from catching on fire.

Billy settles on looking up at him, pressing his chin into Steve’s muscular pec. Watching as Steve’s throat works on keeping back his moans. As his hand plucks the smoke away then knocks into the headboard absentmindedly.

“I know I got you, Stevie. And you know you’ve got me. For as long as you’ll keep me. But,” Billy paused to lick across his bottom lip. Could taste sweat, and ash, and Steve. Like a campfire roaring with life in the middle of the cold, dark woods. “Can’t a guy have a little fun?”

“You drive me crazy…,” Steve whispered out. Tilting his head to the side just so, just so his black hair moved with it like fine silk, just so his cheek squished up against his shoulder, just so he could see Billy looking up at him.

“So that’s a yes?” Billy didn’t wait for a reply. He dipped down, capturing a nipple in his mouth.

Then reached down between them and fisted both their wet, soft cocks together.

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed so beautifully. His lips making a silent moan and a perfect ‘o’ shape. His knuckles rapping on the headboard as his cigarette burned forgotten. Ash dropping into his messy head of black hair.

Billy takes that as an agreement. Just as he takes two more whispered orgasms from Steve before the boy climbs out his window at 3 in the morning.

Next week, finds Billy with a closing shift. The clouds above the Hawkins Community Pool rolling in pink and yellow with the falling sun.

Steve stands by his red car. Legs crossed and arms crossed. The clouds reflected a shade darker on his sunglasses. Billy licks his lips as he comes out from the employees only offices. Finished with his check list of closing requirements. All he has to do is go home now.

Instead, he watches Steve. Spins the keys on his fingers a couple times before he works open the padlock keeping the pool closed after hours.

Steve walks through with those damn, long legs in a pretty pair of pastel swim shorts. A towel slung over his shoulder. The matching pastel stripes blocking Billy’s view of the cropped shirt showing off Steve’s lean stomach.

As he goes past, Billy slaps his ass.

Steve turns around with a half shocked grin, his hand shooting up to catch Billy around the throat. But he only pulls him in for a soft peck on the lips before brushing past. Throwing a middle finger over his shoulder for good measure.

Billy whistles low. Locks the chain link gates back up with his red shorts now much, much more tight around his thighs.

They take a seat on a couple chairs right in the middle. Right next to the ladder of the pool. Steve throws his towel down before lounging across a chair. He uses those long fingers to snatch off his glasses as he looks around.

The pool water wavers like a molten steel mirror. Without splashing children or exercising Moms, it sways only with the light wind. Letting itself reflect back a perfect image of the watercolor sunset happening above them. The sky darkening again so that it could cast Steve in his best lighting. Making his skin more pale, just like his pastel shorts. And his chocolate colored hair loses that brightness, it changes to silky smooth black.

Steve’s eyes get darker too, two vinyl records cut from the star studded moonlit sky. Their music vibrates Billy’s skin every time he sees them.

Billy drops down in the chair behind Steve. His leg folded up on one side and his body bigger, made of all lean muscle, so Steve grumbles as he's forced to lean forward.

But then Billy’s hands are coming up around his hips. Wide palms still hot from the blazing sunlight of the day circling around Steve’s swim trunk waistband. Billy pushes his fingers up to lay out on the space so generously left exposed from Steve’s crop top. Pulling him backwards by the softest part of his belly so he’s burrowing his nose into the back of that perfect hair.

“This is breaking and entering,” Steve mutters darkly. One hand laying over Billy’s, the other lifting to find that mess of honey blond curls.

“Humm,” Billy presses a kiss into the nape of Steve’s neck, “how is it breaking if I got the damn key, Stevie?”

He can feel it in his stomach as Steve rolls out a filthy moan. He’s letting himself be louder, much louder, than they ever could be at Cherry Lane.

Billy circles his arms around Steve’s waist completely. Yanking him backwards with a jerk so that he can angle up his hips. So that Steve can feel the way his cock is already proud and hard inside his red shorts.

Presses the shaft of it right between Steve’s ass, rocking him back down by his grip around his waist so he has no choice but to feel it.

Steve lets out another filthy moan, lets his head fall back on Billy’s shoulder as if it took all his strength to do so.

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” Billy started rambling. His brain shutting off all it’s gates and locks as soon as it heard that moan. “Looked so damn hot waitin’ for me. Such a good boy showin’ up just how I asked.”

Steve shivered as Billy’s words left a hot trail of breath up his cheek bones. He arched his back, moving so his ass pushed into Billy’s trapped cock.

“Then why don’t you show me how to swim, lifeguard?” He asked, voice sultry and teasing. Perfect in every damn way.

Steve leaned forward in the chair to give himself just enough space to grip the bottom of his crop top and pull it off. His hair bounced as he wiggled, shifting his shoulders out the fabric, then letting it drop to the wet tile under them.

Like a magnet, like a force he couldn’t control, Billy’s hands reached up for that bare chest. Getting two handfuls of Steve’s pecs just to squeeze them hard as he can.

Billy muffled his own moans at being able to touch his boyfriend again by placing wet, open kisses up Steve’s neck. “What did I do to deserve you?” Billy kissed the question.

Kissing so hard his teeth scrapped, abusing Steve’s sensitive and pale throat.

Steve let himself enjoy the attention. Arches his back so his chest went up to meet Billy's hands. But only for a moment, until he reached up to catch Billy's jaw mid kiss. He pulls Billy's plump, cherry red lips towards him. Not to kiss— just to mutter close enough to touch.

“Nothing yet,” he whispered.

Then Steve stood up from the chair. Putting his hands on his hips as he looked down with a cocky grin as Billy lays out across his chair. Hard in his shorts, flushed red down to his neck. An annoyed grimace on his face.

Steve took a few timid steps backwards as if he feared Billy could leap from the chair like an angry mountain lion chasing his food. When Steve reached the ladder he had to turn to follow the curve of the metal handles.

“Let’s get this over with, okay? I really don’t want to be caught in public.” Steve said as he lowered down into the water.

Billy rolled his eyes. But stood up and followed. Not by the ladder, but by dropping down to his ass on the side of the pool and letting his feet dangle over. “Sure, whatever you say your majesty,” he spoke with his arms, bowing at the waist slightly to show he was all Steve’s to command.

“Yeah, Bill,” Steve splashed towards him, loving way too much how it made Billy’s fluffy hair limp. “Some people don’t get off to getting caught, or being a total jerk!”

Jumping off the side of the pool, Billy got Steve back with his own large splash. When he surfaced, he squirted water out his mouth. Steve grimaced deep, scrubbing at his face as it got all over his cheek.

While Steve was furiously wiping the spit from his cheek, he didn’t notice the way Billy pushed him up toward the wall until his hair was flat against it.

“Bill,” he gasped out. Droplets of water falling from his lips. Hands were wandering over his ass under the water already.

“You really know me so well, pretty boy, it’s so damn cute,” Billy groans out.

“That was an insult!” Steve defends himself weakly.

“Yeah, baby,” Billy growls, his mouth finds Steve’s neck again with hard kisses, “and you know insulting me gets me off too.”

Steve’s voice is cracking, his brows furrowed together. Those big hands have dropped down to cup his whole ass under the water. And for some reason they feel heavier, warmer, than they ever have before.

“No, ahhh—,” his words cut off with a throaty moan.

“Asshole,” He croaks out before finally letting his head drop backwards. Letting Billy have all the access to his neck and chest he could ever want.

Billy lifts Steve’s legs by the back of his thighs to wrap around his waist. Pushing and pulling Steve’s weight that’s now all soft and marshmallow under the water until their cocks are kissing. Rubbing their shafts together, making their shorts bunch up around their hips and strain with the grown lengths.

Laying his head back, letting his damp hair spread out on the tile of the side of the pool, Steve wasn’t quiet in his moans. His mouth hung open with his noises and hitching breaths.

His hands braced onto Billy’s shoulders as the blond moved down to catch Steve’s nipples in his kisses. Sucking one dusty rose colored peak into his mouth. Rolling it between his front teeth before caressing it with a gentle kiss.

Steve tasted like expensive cologne and the same damn chlorine pool water Billy’s been swimming in all day long. He was warm, hot to the touch, and firm under his hands.

Billy went between Steve’s nipples, lapping at each one like a starving man. Digging his fingers into the back of Steve’s thighs like he wishes he could grip at his chest. He made up for the lack of touching with a hard bite, followed by a soft kiss.

The ministrations made Steve’s throat wrecked. His breaths more messy moans and groans than anything.

Billy lifted him up farther along the wall, until he could lift his arms and use his elbows to keep him up on the slippery when wet tiles. He gripped Steve’s legs tightly to his ribs as he moved down, down to where the water licked around Steve’s mole dotted skin.

“Hold yourself up, pretty boy,” Billy ordered. Keeping one hand on the back of his thighs while the other moves him around by the hips. He watches as Steve shifts around to get comfortable on his elbows.

“Yeah,” he growls out, feeling feral as he looks upwards to Steve’s already sex flushed face. “Just like that. Perfect.”

Steve has enough sass left in him to roll his eyes. It makes Billy smile as he gets to work tugging down Steve’s swim shorts just enough to let his cock free. The curvy pink head and velvet shaft come free with a wet slap to Steve’s stomach. He can only get the shorts down mid thigh, but that’s enough for Billy.

Soft, little kitten licks are all he gives at first. Lapping at the chlorine flavor until he can taste the pearls of pre-cum off the tip. But Billy doesn’t like nice, or slow. And he can all but hear Steve’s blunt nails scratching across the tiles in the empty community pool. So he makes quick work of swallowing down Steve until he hits the back of his tongue.

“Oh, Bill! Oh!” Steve’s breath hikes. Threatens to give out on him. And his shoulders jump up as if to close himself off from the pleasure of being blown in a cool pool on a hot summer day.

He catches his breath in short gasping jerks. Billy can feel the way his legs tighten, even, around his ribs. So he steadies out his maddening pace, bobbing shallowly up and down the mid-length of Steve’s cock. Setting a rhythm to match his breath to.

Steve lays back so his head is flat on the tile. His eyes flutter closed as he enjoys the way Billy’s wet mouth works over his cock.

And Billy’s enjoying himself too, so damn much. His own legs tense as he holds up Steve’s weight. Still heavy even with the assist of the water making him float. Making Billy’s muscles bulge and grow hot even with the water up around his shoulders.

Each time he bobbed his head down to swallow Steve’s cock his chin touched the water. All around them the only noises he could hear was splashing, and the breathless and pretty as hell moans coming out of Steve’s mouth.

He stole one more glance up at Steve, one more lingering look up at that flexing Adam’s apple, before he dropped his head down under the water.

***

Steve lays so his head is completely thrown back, his chest heaving with the last of his air, as he feels Billy take him deep to the root of his cock. His shoulders give a weak little jerk as he tries not to come immediately. Eyes fluttering in the way he wants to close them and savor the moment, but he doesn’t want to stop looking around and remembering just where they are.

It’s then, as he’s letting his eyes wander the empty pool recliners around them. Usually bustling and filled with people. When he notices it. A yellow light flicking through the chain link fence.

Steve blinks a bit. Watching as the light sweeps across the water. But it’s when he hears their splashing and sex noises get drowned out by the clanking of the locked fence again, does Steve realize.

His hand moves to try and cup Billy’s hair. To pull him up from where he was jerking his cock so perfectly. The water took all the friction away so he could feel only Billy’s plump lips and eager tongue perfectly wet and warm against him. Steve didn’t want to stop.

And neither did Billy. He lifted for a second only to shoot a disgustingly handsome grin, suck in a breath, and go down under again.

Now, he was nuzzling his cock with his nose. His perfect, cute, round nose Steve loved to give him shit for. It pressed just on the side of his cock, while Billy’s mouth toyed with the sensitive skin of his balls. His tongue pulling in as much as he can take, sucking like he’s proving a point.

Steve could only tighten his grip on Billy’s messy hair as he rolled his head backwards again.

Looking up, he can see how the gate is open, and the light is still surveying. It’s only a matter of time before—

“Stop right there!” A booming voice broke into their perfect little silent moment. Accompanied by shuffling work boots as the flash light came closer. “After hours, this is trespassing!”

Steve lifted his one hand in the air, surrendering at the madness of the situation. He had to gulp down some chlorine scented air before he had enough in his lungs to reply with a meek, “Howdy, Hop!”

“What?” The voice loses some of its boom, but Chief of Police Jim Hoppers always has a loud voice. At least when he’s scolding Steve for something. “Harrington? What the hell are you doing here?”

The flashlight drops from Steve’s face so now he can see the Chief in all his bristling, uniformed glory. Thankfully, he had stopped a good few feet away. So maybe he hasn’t seen Billy.

“Not what it looks like,” he exhales.

“Of course not…,” Hopper shuffles around as if holstering something. He had taken his gun out to search the pool, that’s just fantastic.

“Seriously,” Steve’s voice catches with a breathy moan before he can stop it. Just for a second. He covers it with a wave of his hand before continuing. “Seriously! I’m here with Hargrove so he works here, he’s got a key— s-so it’s not a crime, right?”

“Figured as much,” Hopper grumbles, “Where is that bad influence?”

Steve whispers out a short prayer to God for that question. And then, as if Billy knows exactly that he’s being talked about, he moves his sinful tongue back up to swallow Steve’s cock to the root.

He has to control his breath more than he ever has. His body is edging hard, wanting to cum down Billy’s throat as it works over his sensitive head so perfectly. So warm and wet, and so dangerous. If he came now, if he made a sound like he did, they would be caught. It sends crackling electricity up and down his body at the thought of it.

His fingers pull at Billy’s hair mean-like, trying to punish him. And he manages to push down the way he wants to absolutely messily beg for the boy to continue with a couple shaky breaths.

“He’s getting his towel from the lockers. Should be out soon.” He turns over his shoulder with an innocent smile. Steve is surprised at his own voice, surprised he can talk at all with Billy’s throat milking his cock so hard.

“Getting a towel,” Hopper mused. Turning to look at the doors for the locker rooms.

Steve took that second to let out a silent moan. Parting his lips widely as if to scream in the way he wanted. In the way he will, as soon as Hopper leaves. If he even lasts that long.

“That’s all?” Hopper snaps, turning back to glare at Steve.

And Steve just barely covers his moan with biting down on his lips. Sucking them in and scraping his teeth against them as a mild distraction. “Yeah, yeah,” he laughs out. “Sure, Hop—,”

“You two boys better not be drinking!”

“Drinking?” Steve manages to hide a groan brought on by a particularly hard suck inside that word, dragging it out as if he can’t believe it. And he can’t. He can’t believe he’s trying to lie to Chief Hopper while getting blown.

“Geez, Hop, we’re not drinking okay? Just swimming!” He pleads.

“Just swimming?” Hopper’s glare has softened. His brow that was constantly up and suspicious lowered to a more fond exasperation.

“S-Sure.” Steve nods desperately.

“I come back in an hour, I won’t find two dumb teenagers floating belly up?” Hopper cracks a smile. Oh good, he’s joking. He must believe him, and that must mean he’s close to leaving.

Steve rolled his eyes, matched the laugh with a forced one. “Don’t be so ancient, man, holy shit.”

Hopper dips his head as if offended at the language. Steve tries to crack another good natured laugh but a moan almost slips out, so he claps his hand over his mouth. Hopefully, it comes off as comedy. Not as him trying to power through Billy trying really hard to make him cum right now.

A second ticks by of silence. Hopper narrowing his eyes at Steve, while he looks back with every ounce of pleading puppy-dog eyes he can muster. And Steve’s been told his puppy-dog eyes can be pretty powerful.

“No drinking?” Hopper asks.

Steve shakes his head profusely. His hand still covering his mouth.

“You two are gone in an hour?”

Steve nods, his hair messily falling around his forehead shakes with it.

“Jesus Christ,” Hopper rolls his eyes and moves his whole body with it. Turning around in a very interesting show of self battling. “Fine. You two don’t cause any more trouble,” he grumbled out as he turned to walk away.

“Thanks, Hop!” Steve yelled after him. Throwing out a weak, quivering thumbs up as Hopper waves over his shoulder.

As soon as he gets out the gate, Steve drops his head down and lets out a long, whimpering moan. His hand on Billy’s head pulling hard on those wet, golden curls, as he thrusts back up into Billy’s mouth. It only takes a couple. A few deep, hard, thrusts that punch his cock head into the back of Billy’s throat, before Steve’s cuming hard.

He keeps his hands on Billy’s hair so he has to stay down, stay under the shifting waters of the pool, and swallow his whole load. Steve feels it makes up for the torture of talking to Hopper. It also feels just so damn good.

His grip on Billy’s hair lets go when he starts wiggling around. He comes up from the water with his mouth open already trying to suck down a desperate breath. Billy’s lips are swollen, huge and cherry red. Like a lollipop. Like his damn sexy swim shorts uniform.

Steve growls from deep in his chest as soon as he sees Billy’s smug ass face.

“Damn, when I told you I wanted to drown in you, Stevie, I meant your pretty eyes. Not your big dick—,”

“I hate you,” Steve muttered darkly.

“And fuck, baby, how you kept your cool with that pig? That was really fuckin’ hot—,”

“I hate you,” Steve repeated. His hand petting through Billy’s hair didn’t match the hate in voice at all, and he was fine with that.

“Shucks,” Billy drawls out, his grin going up on one side. Turning into a lopsided smile. A real smile. Steve’s heart fluttered around inside his chest. “Keep showing off like this, you’re going to make a guy fall in love!”

Steve cracked his mean mug with a cloud-soft laugh, his eyes crinkling around the edges with it. He couldn’t stay mad, not even when he’s trying.

He pulls Billy down by a fistful of hair into a blistering kiss. Without shutting him up, Steve might start confessing shit Billy wasn’t ready for.

Not yet, at least. Maybe a couple more sunset swims and he’ll be ready

[vintagedolan]

lucid locations (gbd)

while one full year of wakeheart and an impending candle launch are definitely moments to celebrate, you might just have another plan for the ceo’s attention

word count: 7.5k

warnings/tags: ceo!grayson, lots of smut, 🥵  is all im sayin

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Between construction at the house, the warm California summer and an inviting pool right in the backyard, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had on more than a bikini top, running shorts and one of Grayson’s shirts. He was the same - mostly running around shirtless in his shorter shorts, maybe throwing on a tank top if he was building. When you’d packed up to take haven from the construction dust and noise, headed for a rental house in Malibu, you’d had to convince him he needed to pack more than his new speedos. 

Needless to say, getting cleaned up and ready for a black tie event was quite the shift from your usual day to day. The makeup you were swiping on felt almost foreign, especially the lipstick. But the hand that made it’s way onto your bare back was all too familiar. You relaxed into it, smiling at Grayson in the mirror. 

“God damn.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes, closing them when he leaned over to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“You look so good,” he hummed. “But can you look good 6 inches to the right? I gotta clean up my beard.” Your eyes went wide, lip jutting out as you moved over, opening up the spot in front of the sink. 

“Don’t shave it.” You blurted, making him laugh.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just cleaning up the edges. The scruff stays.”

“Good, it makes you look very... ceo-ey,” you grinned, reaching over to run a finger over his jaw, feeling the coarse hair there that you loved so much.

“What, I don’t look ceo-ey with a baby face? Not even in this fit?” He gestured down to himself in his speedo, striking a bit of a pose.

“King of business. Steve Jobs is quaking. The bulge really sells the whole look,” you teased, scrunching up your nose. He belly laughed at that, a hand moving to his chest as if to brace himself until he moved forward to you, spinning you around a bit so he could press his nose to yours.

“Can’t blame me when you insist on getting ready in a bra and tiny shorts,” he mumbled with a grin, fingers ghosting up your bare sides as if to reiterate his point. 

“I’m enjoying the ethan-has-his-own-bathroom perks of this house, sue me.” His lips brushed against yours just barely as you spoke, so light that it almost tickled. 

“I’m enjoying it too.” He pressed a kiss to your lips gently, a small one. 

“Don’t smear my lipstick bub,” you cautioned nicely, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sighed at that, eye meeting yours and just looking. It was the type of gaze that made your cheeks as warm as your core.

“Bring more so you can fix it later. You’re very kissable right now.”

“And you’re very sappy,” you mused. He always got sentimental on big occasions, excited to make new memories. “And kissable.” You gave in, giving him a quick one, ignoring his attempt to deepen it. “We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late to your own event.”

“The CEOs have to be a little late, I think it’s customary,” he tried, but you just shook your head, covering his lips with your hand.

“Shave, I gotta do my hair anyways. And I’m probably gonna need your help with my dress.” 

That was enough motivation for him to get on with getting ready. You’d been sneaky, not shown him the dress you’d picked out for the evening. It was your first black tie event that you’d gone to ever, and definitely the first one with him at your side. You wanted to look good next to him, look good in the pictures you knew were going to be taken that he was no doubt going to post and probably print out to add to his photo collection too. It had butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you did your hair the way you liked, keeping it simple and making sure it framed your face.

It took you a little while, and you smiled when Gray wandered back into the bathroom in his suit, bowtie hanging loosely around his neck just as you finished. You let out a low dramatic whistle, breaking it off into a laugh when his cheeks turned your favorite shade of pink. 

“Help.” He walked over to you, lifting his chin up so you could better access his bowtie. You went to tie it immediately - you’d taught yourself last week when he decided to wear one. It made you smile as you recalled the two of you sitting on his bed, him shirtless with just the bowtie around his neck while you practiced, the spitting image of a male stripper from a bachelorette party. You’d been laughing so hard that it took you a ridiculous amount of times to get it. Luckily now you got it on your first try, proud of yourself as you straightened it out.

“Is it dress time?” His eyes flashed a bit when you nodded in response, heading for the closet where your garment bag was waiting. You pulled it out, having to hold your arm up high so that it didn’t pool on the floor as you moved it to the bed. 

Grayson rubbed his hands together in anticipation before he balled them into fists, the full embodiment of a kid on christmas, but in a 6 foot body. 

“You look like you’re gonna combust baby, chill,” you teased, shaking your head as you slipped your shorts off. You felt his eyes on your thong, the smallest one you owned. You still weren’t sure it would work - only one way to find out.

You reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor before you leaned down to scoop everything up and toss it the laundry. 

“I like where this is going.” His voice had dropped a bit, eyes taking you in from head to toe.

“Oh yeah? Well, get excited,” you teased, reaching into the Target bag on the floor to pull out a few nipple pasties. “These bad boys are coming along for the ride.” You wiggled them around dramatically in the air before you turned to the mirror to put them in place. Grayson watched, entirely unfazed.

“Okay, go stand in the bathroom for a minute,” you instructed, pointing to the door. He balked, eyes going wide.

“What? Why!?”

“Cause, you seeing me wiggle into this thing will ruin the allure. And I like surprises.”

“But I wanna see,” he pouted, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. You weren’t sure how a 6ft man in a tuxedo could look so soft, but he pulled it off.

“You will see, in like two seconds,” you teased, pushing gently on his chest as he walked backwards towards the bathroom door. He was still pouting when you closed it.

Taking a deep breath you went back over to the garment bag, pulling the zipper of it down to reveal the fabric you hadn’t seen in a while. Just laying there it looked almost innocent... almost. But when you put it on? You’d never felt like such a bad bitch - even in the fittings you’d felt powerful, sexy. 

“Do you have it on yet?” Grayson’s voice was impatient, a bit distorted. He was biting his fingernails, you could tell. 

“No, just gimme a minute,” you laughed, coaxing the dress off the hanger and carefully stepping into it. The fabric was silky but dense, with enough structure to give your body shape and enough flow for it to be flattering. It was a deep purple that reflected in a way that made it almost blue when it caught the light. The cleavage was there, but subtle, and that subtly was made up for with an open back. The material pooled right over the curve of your ass, leaving almost your entire back exposed, held up by the tiny straps over your shoulders.

But once you had it on, you remembered your favorite part, the main reason you’d bought it besides the color. 

The slit.

It was high. So high that it was borderline inappropriate, but still just classy enough. It tapered up at your hip, leaving your entire left leg open to the air. And as you’d feared, the lace line of your thong was visible. 

“Let me see,” Grayson whined from behind the door. You knew if you didn’t give in he was going to come out anyways.

“Alright alright, come in!” You called to him. He wasted no time in getting the door open as you stayed where you were in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what to do about the underwear situation.

“Holy. Fuck.” 

That caught your attention, and you turned to see his face. He was smiling, but his mouth was wide open, jaw slack as he looked you up and down. You expected him to get it together after a few moments, but he just stood there, awestruck, eyes never leaving you. 

And then, to top it off, he finally took in a raspy breath, coughing a little. You opened your mouth to say something, but he held up a finger and moved towards the bed, rummaging around by the bedside table. 

It was a sight you always wanted to remember - him, puffing on his bright red inhaler while standing there in a tux. 

“Wow, that good huh?” You couldn’t help the ego boost that it gave you to see him so undone just from looking at you.

“You got room for this in your bag? Might need it later with you lookin’ like that.” 

You rolled your eyes a bit, but you held your hand out anyways, taking it from him and sitting it down next to your bag. The fabric tape you’d bought peeked out at you and you pulled it out with a sigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable looking stuff, but you didn’t have much of an option.

You moved back in front of the mirror, reaching up to your thong and hooking a finger through it and pulling it down.

“What’re you doing?” His mouth sounded dry as he spoke. 

“It was showing. Can’t wear any with a slit this high.”

“You’re actually trying to kill me.” He watched you step out of them with hooded eyes, which turned to confusion when he watched you open the packaging on the tape. “What’s that?”

“Fabric tape. Keeps everything where it needs to be, ya know?” 

“You can’t just wear the dress?”

“Do you want the entire Wakeheart team to see my vagina tonight?” You laughed, quirking an eyebrow at him in the mirror. He scrunched his nose at that idea, staying quiet while you got everything arranged and taped.

“Okay, tell me if you can see anything.” You spun around slowly, trying out a few different angles with your leg that you might do during a photo. 

“You’re good. I fuckin’ love that dress, it looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you baby. You look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself.” You fixed the collar of his shirt with a smile. He brought his wrist up, checking his watch - his green rolex, of course. 

“Ah shit, we gotta go or we really are gonna be late.”

You just nodded, moving to the box with your new black heels and pulling them out. Grayson held his hand out for them and you handed them over, blushing when as you watched him crouch down and reach for your foot.  

“I can do that you know.”

“I know.” He grinned up at you before he looked back down and guided your foot in, his big fingers giving him a few problems when he got to the tiny clasps on the straps. “These are stupidly tiny.”

“I can get em,” you offered again, but he just waved you off, sticking out his tongue as he focused and finally got the buckle to thread through. The left shoe went easier, even though you had to hold onto his shoulder while you balanced on your right. 

He stood up when his work was done, eyes flashing wide when he looked at you.

“You’re so tall now. That’ll be nice for my back.” The question must have been clear on your face, because he answered it. “Don’t have to bend down to kiss you.” 

“Shut up and put your shoes on,” you laughed, kissing him quickly before moving to check yourself in the mirror one last time - even you had to admit, you looked damn good. Grayson got his Louis shoes on quickly, tying them and coming beside you, phone in hand. He pulled you against him so you both fit in the mirror, posing like you were on a red carpet just for his phone. 

“Turn around.” His voice was gruff, and when you did as you were told you knew why. You couldn’t help it - he took the first picture of just you looking up at him, your back on display. But by the time he snapped the next one, you snaked your hand down, white nails bright against his black pants as you cupped him over the fabric, his bulge already growing. 

“Don’t.” 

He snapped the picture anyways. 

“You sure?” You didn’t have to lean too far to get close to his ear now that you had on heels, and he rolled his neck as he sucked in a breath. His eyes flashed to yours, desperate and angry and wanting all at once. 

His hand fell over yours, pulling you off of him by your wrist. “Later.”

“Promise?” It rolled off your tongue as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Jesus,” he groaned, the effort he was using to stay put together obvious. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before he let go. “Yeah, fuckin’ promise.” 

He saved the last picture under my eyes only and put his phone away, taking your hand as you grabbed your bag and followed him out of the room. 

------

“Does my hair still look okay?” You turned to Grayson, a bit nervous that you’d undone all your hard work.

With gentle fingers he fixed a few strays that had come loose. You should have known that they were going to play Cudi the whole way to the venue - it was a Dolan celebration after all. The boys always got hype, and you couldn’t help but join in, dancing along and singing at the top of your lungs. For your mood? Wonderful. But for your look? Maybe not so much.

“You look perfect.”

“Promise?” You quirked an eyebrow, knowing exactly what you were doing and loving every minute of it.

He sat back down in his seat further, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. Ethan noticed from the front seat, watching for a moment and then deciding he should probably mind his own business. 

Grayson’s eyes were serious when he turned to you, leaning over so no one else heard your conversation.

“We have photos in like 5 minutes. I’m begging you. Behave.” 

You pondered it for a minute - how many times had he fucked you up, got you turned on in public when there was nothing you could do about it? But there was a sincerity in his eyes and his voice that you couldn’t ignore. 

Did you like being told what to do? No. But for Grayson? You’d do just about anything.

“Fine,” you conceded with a grin, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “But only cause I want you to be able to post the pictures without your dick showing.”

“How considerate of you,” he rolled his eyes, but it was light hearted. He laced his fingers with yours, thumb running over your skin as his excitement mounted every minute closer you got the venue. You watched out the window as the fancy buildings started to emerge, signaling that you were getting close. Malibu had a more relaxed yet somehow more exclusive vibe than LA, and it had your heart racing.

“You’re gonna be fine, it’s just cameras.” He had somehow sensed your nerves, putting his own aside as he tried to comfort you instead.

“You’ve done this before, of course it’s not scary for you.”

“True. But I’m gonna be with you the whole time, which means you have nothing to worry about,” he countered, almost asking you to challenge him on it. You just nodded, picking up your purse from the floorboard.

“When we get out can you stand in front of me? I don’t wanna accidentally flash anybody.”

“Of course baby. I thought thats what the tape was for though,” he mused.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“We’re here, you guys ready?” Ethan turned from his spot in the passenger seat, excitement written all over his face. He reached back, hand extended to his brother, his partner in all this. You watch them do the handshake they could do in their sleep, a silent communication of excitement and support. 

And then, it was time for the show to really begin. It was a bit of a blur after that, mixtures of adrenaline and nerves. Grayson opened your door, standing tall and broad as you stood up, got your footing and adjusted your dress to make sure all was covered. And then he offered you his arm, prideful grin on his face as he showed you off.

It was a blur after that. You vaguely remembered pausing in front of the backdrop, a simple white with the Wakeheart logo scattered across it. You took a few serious pictures, giving your best sultry look, but mostly you just smiled, so proud of your man for all he worked so hard for.

At one point he stepped back from you, gesturing towards you proudly. It took you a minute to register that the photographers were calling out for you to pose, just you by yourself. You did your best, posing and looking where you were called. 

You only relaxed when Grayson reattached to your side, leading you down the rest of the carpet that stretched up to the venue. You posed for a few with both him and E just for fun, the three of you goofing off and just being yourselves before you made it to the end, the doors open to reveal the inside of the venue. 

“They want some of just E and I, do you wanna wait out here or do you wanna go sit down?” 

“I’ll go sit, save my feet. Have fun!” You kissed him quickly, vaguely aware that a few cameras flashed. You reached up and wiped a tiny bit of lipstick off his lip before letting him go, watching him head back over to his brother. 

You weren’t alone for long - you’d barely made it into the room before Sterling saw you, lighting up and running over to you. She was in a floor length green number, the sparkles on it catching the light from outside.

“Ster! You look amazing!”

“Says you! Holy shit! You rode in with the boys right?” You nodded, starting to look around. “Do you think they’re gonna like everything?”

“Oh they’re gonna love it, for sure.” 

The room was dim, colorful lights all around giving just enough brightness to make it functional without ruining the vibe. It only took you a second to realize that each light was specific; purple, blue and a light orange, just like the Enterlight collection. There were little Wakeheart touches everywhere, from the little mini fragrances on the tables to the logo printed on the name cards at the tables.

“Your all’s table is at the front I think,” Sterling offered, pointing up by the stage. “I gotta go find Daniel, I’ll find you later!” She disappeared to find her boyfriend and you headed in the general direction of the front, weaving through some of the tables.

“Y/N!” 

You turned, lighting up as you realized the call had come from Deon who was beelining for you, the biggest smile on his face.

“De!” was all you could get out before he had you wrapped up in a hug, almost lifting you off the ground. It had been too long since you’d seen him, too long since he’d come by to hang out after the first few times that you’d hit it off. 

“You look hot as hell girl, damn!” He praised, and you blushed so deep that you were sure he could see it, even in those lights. 

“Did Kai get to come?” 

“Yeah, he’s getting us drinks, wanna meet him?”

“Of course! Gotta see what all the hype is about,” you nudged his shoulder, taking his hand as he lead you over to the bar.

Kai was taller than you’d pictured him when Deon had described his boyfriend, but he was beautiful enough for all De’s constant gushing about him to make sense. The introductions went well, and you almost forgot where you were until someone cleared their throat.

“You guys gonna get drinks or what?” The bartender that spoke was a burly guy, too much muscle, and probably too old to be happy as a bartender if his tone and glare said anything about him.

“Oh right, sorry! Just uh, two mules for us. Y/N?” Deon looked at you expectantly.

“A mojito for me please,” you kept up the niceties, trying to stay pleasant. Maybe he was just having a bad night. 

“I hate making those.”

Niceties? Gone. 

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re getting paid.”

“Suppose so,” he grumbled, passing over the two mules to Deon and Kai. They took the gratefully, giving you a little wave before they headed off, so caught up in each other that they didn’t even register the conversation. You stood up a bit taller now that you were by yourself, practically daring him to try something.

“You here by yourself?” 

“No.”

“Don’t see anybody with you.”

“So observant.” You let the annoyance seep into your tone, but you were right in assuming that he was the type of guy who didn’t give a fuck if the women around him were uncomfortable. 

“Where’s your man then? Not a smart one if he’s gonna let you walk around here wearing that by yourself.” The way his eyes raked up and down your form didn’t sit well with you. 

“He’s a bit... occupied. And considering I’m the reason there’s a bar here in the first place tonight, I suggest you watch your mouth and make the drinks before the CEO changes his mind.” 

“What she said.” 

You’d know that voice and the hand that slid dangerously low across your back anywhere. Apparently, the event planners must have shown the workers who the whole party was for, because the man behind the bar changed his tune immediately.

“Mr. Dolan,” he greeted, so serious that is almost made you laugh. “Can I get you anything sir?”

“You can get my girl what she asked for, and you can watch your mouth. That’ll be all.” 

You weren’t sure how a guy the size of the bartender could look sheepish, but he managed it as he handed over your mojito. 

“Thanks! Have a great night!” You hoped your insincerity was blatant enough as you took your drink and waved back to him, letting Grayson’s hand guide you as you turned around. 

“Hi baby, how were the rest of your pictures?” You asked as you walked to the table, chasing your straw with your tongue for a moment before taking a sip. 

Grayson just shook his head at you. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You shrugged, enjoying the compliment and lifting up to kiss his cheek in thanks. He pulled your chair out for you before you sat down, settling beside you. As you expected, he was a hot commodity, a stream of people coming up to the table to give their congratulations. It only got more constant when Ethan found his seat on the other side of Grayson, everyone making sure they got their moment with the boys. 

Grayson was fully engaged, and you did your best to listen, focus on what he was saying, accepting the little nods of acknowledgement everyone was giving you.

But you were much more focused on the way Grayson’s hand was reached back so he could keep a hand on your thigh, his diamond ring cold against your skin as he squeezed every once in a while -  a little reminder that he appreciated you being there with him. 

It was innocent enough - but the mixture of him in that suit, the professional tenor of his tone, the lights, the fact that his hand was big enough to cover all the way across your thigh. You couldn’t help it - you shifted your legs just barely, only then realizing just how wet you were. 

It was wishful thinking that he didn’t notice. And of course, right at that moment there was a lull in the congratulations. He turned back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” 

You smoothed out your dress when you stood up, hoping your skin didn’t look as flushed as it felt. 

“Hey. We gotta talk at 8. Don’t leave me hanging.” Ethan’s tone was all too knowing, and if you hadn’t already been blushing you would have when he fist bumped his brother. 

You took Grayson’s hand, his Rolex cool against your wrist as he lead you out of the event room, down a small hallway and to an elevator. He hit the button labeled R, and you both waited as patiently as you could. As soon as the doors were closed he was on you, both hands on your face, thumbs over your jaw as he pulled you to him. 

You melted into him, molding to his form, whimpering when his right hand traced down your back, crossed over and tucked under the fabric of your dress, fingers ghosting over your bare hip. 

“Fuck, forgot you ditched the panties,” he groaned, turning in annoyance as the doors dinged and opened. 

There were very few things that could have pulled your attention away from Grayson at that moment - the view was one of them.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, looking out at the rooftop that the elevator had brought you to. It was a garden of sorts, lots of greenery and flowers all around. But the real stunner was the view over the ocean, a perfect Malibu beach stretching out, visible even in the dim twilight that had settled over the sky while you’d been inside. 

“Figured you’d like it up here. And it’s private.”

You turned around, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Private.” You swallowed around the word as he came closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. This time you got your piece, hands coming up to his neck, searching out any skin you could find over his collar. He one upped you, both hands moving down your back, under your dress and over your ass, squeezing and massaging as he reached further, getting dangerously close to where you needed him most. 

“We can’t, Gray we can’t.” Your words didn’t match your actions, whole body jolting when his hands moved out of your dress, right hand resting on your hip from the front now, the slit just making it that much easier for him to gain access. 

“Why not?” He mused, kissing along your neck. 

“Cause we can’t go back down there looking fucked out. We’ll be home in a few hours.” There wasn’t even a flicker of conviction in your voice, and he just shook his head, unwilling to hear it.

“Can’t. Got me fucked up down there, calling me CEO and shit, hyping me up to that piece of shit. Don’t think I’m gonna make it home without at least a taste.” His hand traced left, ducking under your dress. You gasped as the tape peeled off your skin, leaving you vulnerable. 

“Fuck Gray,” you whimpered as his hand cupped over you, your knees buckling underneath you at the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick. 

He groaned at what he found, other hand coming up to the back of your head, chasing your lips with his as you gasped when he started to move. 

“Just hold onto me baby, I got you.” His voice was deep in your ear as you clung to him, his arm wedged between both of your torsos as he worked you over. But just when you were really getting there, legs shaking, he pulled away, leaving you exposed and cold in the evening air.

You were about to complain, but the look he gave you told you he was far from done.  

“You’re on watch.” His voice and the wink he threw you had your already weak knees about ready to give out as he sunk down, moving your dress away like a curtain.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your hip before he ducked down, holding onto your thighs as he dove in with a wide tongue, finally getting what he’d been waiting for. And even if he hadn’t told you to you would have been bracing yourself on his shoulders.

“I like these heels,” he murmured when he pulled back for air. “Gets me a better angle.”

“Fuck, Grayson.” Something about you using his full name had him diving back in with a vengeance, tongue rough and active, only pausing to suck on you in the most delicious way. 

Your eyes rolled back, hands finding his hair, not caring if you messed it up as you held on, twitching a bit as he hummed at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You forced yourself to focus, watching the door to make sure no one wandered up to the roof, found the star of the whole affair buried in your pussy.

But something else caught your eye - a little clock, number shining blue.

7:58pm

“Gray, G-Grayson, stop, stop it’s almost 8, you have to - fuck - you have to go,” you warned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull him away from you. 

“Gotta keep my promise first,” he said, only speeding up, knowing you were close from your breathy tone and your quivering thighs. Sure enough, all he had to do was add his finger and you were completely undone, calling out his name and bracing on his shoulder so you didn’t collapse. 

He stood back up with a triumphant grin, ego booming as you just stared at him, working through the aftershocks. He checked his watch and clenched his teeth, giving you a nervous look.

“Hell yeah, one minute to spare. Take the elevator.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek and jogged off, leaving you panting and alone as he disappeared down the staircase. 

“Jesus christ,” you huffed, trying to walk forward on your wobbly legs as quickly as you could, doing your best to pull yourself together. It was all deep breaths and attempts to ignore the wetness on your thighs in the elevator ride as you tried to re-stick the fabric tape with no luck.

The only reason you didn’t go to the bathroom to get yourself re-situated was because you didn’t want to miss the boys speech. So you quickly made your way to your seat, sipping on your drink to try and cool yourself down while you watched Ethan attempt to fix Grayson’s hair at the side of the stage. Oops.

They walked up eventually, waving and acting as humble as ever while the room applauded them. Grayson looked entirely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just been nose deep in your pussy 60 seconds ago. You tried to manifest the same energy, pretend like you weren’t still practically dripping sitting there in your dress. 

But when he looked right at you and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away what you knew was you? You clenched around nothing, biting down on your straw. 

It was going to be a long rest of the night. 

They thanked everyone for coming, and for all the support of the brand over the last year. They shouted out everyone on the team, giving them the praises they deserved. Grayson slipped in a little moment for you, a “thank you to my amazing girlfriend who always smells every sample I bring home and isn’t afraid to give her honest opinion, and who keeps me sane and supports me through every step of everything I do” that had your cheeks burning as all the eyes in the room sought you out. 

When they were done he wasted no time in putting his hand right back on your thigh as soon as he sat down, smirking a bit when he wrapped around and found just a trace of wetness.

“Easy. My tape won’t re-stick,” you warned, not wanting him to get too frisky and accidentally move your dress. 

“Guess you’ll just have to stay close to me then huh,” he mused, leaning in for a kiss that you gave him happily. 

The rest of the night went smoothly, from the meal to the social hour afterwards. You stayed on Grayson’s arm, right where he wanted you as he made his rounds, made sure he spoke to the executives that he and Ethan had invited, got the advice he’d wanted to ask about. 

Before you knew it midnight had come and gone.

“You ready to get out of here baby?” 

“Hell yeah.”

Perks of dating a 20 year old CEO? He has his own driver when he wants it. But to your surprise, the man who drove the three of you there handed him keys instead of leading you to a car. 

“Had em drop off the porsche in case we wanted to ditch early and Ethan didn’t.” He answered the question he knew you had, leading you to the familiar blue car that was waiting on the side of the street. 

“Always the planner,” you teased, squeezing his arm before he opened your door for you and helped you in. 

“I do run a company you know,” he mused, leaning down to kiss you one more time before he picked up the rest of your dress and put it in the car so it didn’t get closed into the door.

You watched his every move as he went around the front of the car and climbed into the drivers seat, starting it up and revving it up once just for good measure. 

As soon as he pulled out of the spot you were leaning down to unclasp your heels, groaning in relief when your feet were freed.

“Better?” 

“So much better,” you sighed, relaxing back in your seat as he plugged the rental address into the GPS and started down the road. 

“Those shoes have their perks for sure. Sorry they hurt you though.” He palmed the wheel as he turned and you bit your lip, remembering exactly what perks he was talking about.

Now it was his turn.

You reached over, hand resting on his thigh, nails digging in just barely. He twitched, foot pressing a bit on the gas, lurching the car forward.

“Easy baby,” you cautioned, turning in your seat so you were facing him, fingers tracing up further, gauging his reaction.

“What’re you doing,” he asked as if he didn’t know, eyes trained forward on the road. 

“Keeping promises,” you mused. “Got me fucked up back there.” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as you repeated his words from earlier, unbuckling his belt and pushing it out of the way as you spoke. 

“Yeah? How’d I get you so fucked up baby. Tell me.” 

“You know exactly what you did,” you reminded him, popping the button open with your nail, coaxing the zipper down to reveal his Calvin Klein briefs that were already getting stretched as he got harder and harder.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he grunted, knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“Could barely walk to the elevator when you ran off, my legs were all wobbly. Made me feel so good,” you explained, stroking his ego and his bulge simultaneously.

“Fuck yeah they were, and you still made it down for my speech.” You reached up under his waistband, pulling his underwear down enough for you to get your hand around him. His hip stuttered as you started to work him over like only you could. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you hummed, using your thumb to trace the vein on the side of his shaft, up over the tip with just enough pressure to really fuck him up. 

“Shit baby. Just like that.”

You did as he said, twisting your wrist over him as he grew in your hand. When your knuckles grazed over his balls the porsche jolted again, making you grin.

“Careful. Can’t fuck you if we don’t make it home.”

“If you weren’t so fucking horny we wouldn’t have a problem,” he huffed, looking at his phone to check the ETA. 2 more minutes. 

“Can’t help it. You in a suit just gets to me,” you admitted, batting your eyelashes a bit just for fun. You didn’t count on him dropping his right hand from the wheel and reaching over to you, shoving your dress to the side and immediately cupping over your already sensitive folds. You jolted in your seat, squeezing his dick in your hand. 

Two could play that game. With a wicked grin, you shifted, closing your legs so he couldn’t reach you and leaning forward, dropping your head.

Before you could get very far his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back up so you had to look at him.

“Wait.” 

You swallowed hard and nodded at his command, sinking back into your seat as he pulled the porsche into the driveway, typing in the gate code, fingers drumming on the wheel while he waited for them to open. He pushed the gear shift forward into park as soon as he stopped, looking over to you.

“Wait.” He said again, opening his door and readjusting himself back into his pants before he came around to your side of the car. He opened your door sweetly, offering you a hand.

As soon as you were on your feet he was crouching, shoulder hitting your hips before he grabbed and lifted, practically throwing you over his shoulder.

You squealed, trying to find purchase against his back, hands balling up his suit jacket in an attempt to hold on. He was unfazed, even taking one hand off you to unlock the door. 

By the time he made it to your alls room on the top floor you’d gone limp, knowing there was no point in fighting him. You missed his face while you couldn’t see it, smiling when he leaned forward at the edge of the bed, let you fall on top of the comforter, bouncing slightly. 

“Dress on or off?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He pondered it for a minute, eyes darkening as he imagined both scenarios, played them out in his head.

“Off,” he decided. You nodded, standing up and pulling one of the straps off over your shoulder. His fingers found the other before you could, pulling it off so that the top of your dress fell down, revealing your breasts. You looked down with a laugh, almost forgetting about the nipple pasties you’d put on. 

He cupped them anyways, thumbs running over the little petal shaped cut outs, the muffled sensation of his fingers on your nipples making your back arch, asking for more. He was gentle as he peeled them away, not wanting to hurt you, ducking down to kiss each one when they were free. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he licked over them, kissing his way across. Your dress continued to fall down, gathering at your hips until his hands found it and pushed it the rest of the way off.

“Much better,” he grinned, guiding you back until you fell on your back again.

It was quite the show, watching him strip out of his suit in front of you. He started with the jacket, tossing it away without a care before he started working at his bowtie. 

You couldn’t resist - you sat up, untucked his shirt from his pants, hastily fumbling over the buttons, pausing to run your hands over his abs as soon as you saw them. He groaned at that, especially when you leaned forward to kiss his warm skin. He got the tie off somehow, working from the top button and meeting you halfway before pulling it off. Just him shirtless in those fucking pants was enough to have you fully worked up again, and you laid back down, watching him pull his belt off through the loops, undo his button and pull everything down at once. 

Your mouth watered, ready for him, but to your surprise he crawled on top of you, resting just enough weight down to pin you to the bed. He was beaming as he looked down at you for a few moments, just taking you in.

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down to kiss you, surprised but warm nonetheless at his sudden change of mood.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too.” There was no question. “Proud of you.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” He pulled back, readjusting so he could line up. You opened your legs a bit wider to make room for him, anticipation mounting as he rubbed himself over your folds for a few strokes. His lips found your forehead as he finally pushed in, stretching you out as he slowly let you adjust to all he had to give.

“So fuckin tight for me, every time baby, fuck,” he huffed out, sinking down further onto you. If you had room to, your back would have arched as you drug your nails over his arms, overwhelmed at how deep he already was. 

He dropped to his forearms, rocking above you so hard that your whole body moved across the bed with each thrust. You clung to him, arms moving around him, scratching at his lower back.

You couldn’t even form words, the only things falling from your lips being his name and a constant stream of whimpers, punctuating each drive he made into your heat. Every time he pulled out his tip ran across that spot deep inside you that had you squirming, body unsure of whether you wanted to run away or get closer, overwhelmed by the force of the sensation. 

He knew you were close when you started to clench around him, walls fluttering in a way that pushed him towards the edge like nothing else ever could. 

When your orgasm came, it was almost too much. You cried out, clinging to Grayson as he continued to pound into you without mercy, only spurred on when you bit onto his shoulder, riding it out before your body went limp for a moment, completely fucked out.

“Almost there baby, fuck,” he groaned, sitting up and grabbing your hips with both hands, holding you up as he chased his high, lost in you entirely. “Want your mouth.” 

Somehow in your blissed out state you managed to sit up enough for him to get close enough to you and your waiting tongue. It only took a few quick strokes before he was cumming, hips stuttering as he unloaded into your mouth. You found the energy to suck him dry, taking all he had to give before he guided you off, much too sensitive for you to keep going. 

He laid down beside you, rolling to his right to find your hips and pull you on top of him. Neither of you moved a muscle for a few minutes, just trying to get your breathing under control and your heart rate back down to an acceptable rate. When you finally got enough energy back you made your way up to his face, catching him with soft and lazy kisses over his lipstick stained lips, drinking each other in. 

You knew that the pictures would run tomorrow, and your faces would be everywhere. You could see all the headlines about Grayson in your mind: CEO, youtuber, famous, heartthrob; every girl that saw him in that suit would be just as enthralled as you had been. But none of it mattered. Because they didn’t get your Grayson, the Grayson who picked you up and carried you to the shower twenty minutes post fuck, helped you take your makeup off and made you laugh until your stomach hurt when he washed his hair and spiked it up in a soapy mohawk like a six year old. That was your Grayson; your CEO, your heartthrob, for the rest of your fucking life. You relished in the thought as you curled up to him that night, loving the weight of his arms around you as you drifted off. 

[claraswritings]

I fell in love (with you) in stages - CH20- FINALE

Pairing: Steve Harrington x HendersonReader

Warnings: Series typical violence, language and spoilers for all seasons

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I have just been through a break up (my choice but still a hard choice) and it kind of put everything else on the back burner for a while.

**

Tags: @hannarudick @felicityofbakerstreet @sledgy14 @kiara-uwu @lookalivesunshine-x @loulouloueh @loco-latte @mikariell95 @queenofthehairharrington @lovelydaydreams15 @anonymousonion23 @mochminnie @prettysbliss

**

A few seconds later and the car collided with the side of Billy’s Camaro t-boning it and stopping it in its tracks before it reached the others. You felt yourself lurch forward then slide sideways into Steve.

The car came to a halt and Steve looked up, loosening his grip on the steering wheel

“You okay?” he asked, concerned turning to you almost immediately. He reached over to push your hair back. The worry over you was evident , the last thing he wanted was for you to be hurt due to his crazy idea.

“Never better,” you gave him a wry smile. “Are you?”

“Are you sure,” he asked again

“Steve.” you pressed. “I promise i’m fine, i’m just glad your idea worked, you are...amazing” You cupped his face with your hands and gave him a quick kiss.

The two of you sat for a second, catching your breath, before the smell of smoke coming from the Camaro, diverted your attention. Jonathan pulled up beside the now immobile Toddfather and gestured for you and Steve to get in. You didn’t even hesitate, scrambling in with your boyfriend following. He’d barely pulled the door shut before the creature leapt down with a roar and took off after the car, advancing after you.

**

You had barely taken your eyes off that...thing in hot pursuit of the vehicle. It was only the crackling of the radio made you jump and the sudden sound of an unfamiliar girls voice and your brothers perky tone told you it could only be one person.

“Wait. She’s real?” Steve turned to look at the radio too, clicking on at the same time. “Huh...gotta say I thought he was making her up,”

“I wish,” you rolled your eyes “He’s got some imagination but not enough to go on about her for as long as he did,”

If Steve thought hed had to listen to Dustin’s “Reasons why Suzie is great” monologue, he was in for a surprise. He had only heard the start of it. In the car journey back from the camp, you’d had hours of it. Not that you’d begrudge him, his first ever teenage romance. You were happy for your brother, after Max and Lucas had got together and Mike and El, you’d worried he’d be left behind.

Steve looked to be considering your reply “Eh yeah makes sense,” he shrugged. As a surprisingly melodic voice began floating through the radio. Steve wondered for a second if he was still drugged. It wasn’t until you spoke that he realised...nope, that really was Dustin singing.

“Is he singing? The song from Neverending Story?” your jaw was slack at the sheer madness of the situation. Being chased by some huge monster, in a car with your best friend who’d become your boyfriend in the past hour, his ex and your brother who had chosen now of all moments to start serenading his girlfriend over a radio.

“Is that one with the big white dog?”

“I think it’s supposed to be a dragon, Steve” you bit your lip, pointing out his mistake quietly. He was adorable when he was oblivious.

“Really” his brow knitted as Suzie began to join in with the singing. “They’re still going,”

“Are they going to do the whole song,” you remarked. “Don’t know if Dustins forgetting it’s kind of urgent” your face pulled into a grimace, and for a second your eyes flickered back to the monster.

Stomach churning, you looked away again, deep down, you feared the car would run out of fuel before you reached your destination and there was absolutely no way you’d outrun it on foot.

“Do you want me to sing to you” Steve offered casually. He sensed your discomfort and worry and even though he was freaking out himself, he hoped his lame attempt at humour would make you smile.

You snorted “Absoutely not...If you even try I’m throwing myself out of this car,”

“Even with that,” Steve gestured at the creature from the back window, pulling a face, as the love struck duo finished their song.

“I’ll take my chances,” you teased.. as Steve took his turn to scan out of the back window.

“Erm....” he poked you in the arm after a second “Why is it stopping, why is it turning around?” Before you could speculate, Steve leant forward tapping the others and sticking his head through to the drivers side to alert Jonathan.

“Guys that thing is turning around, It’s stopping, it must be going somewhere else,”

Jonathan eyed you both in the rear view before sighing, spinning the car, making a lurching U turn and following it back

“I can’t believe we’re actually going back, we must be dumb” You remarked under your breath

“Yeah i’ve been coming to that conclusion myself” he replied

“We should take Dustin to see her,” you commented as Jonathan began tailing the monster being careful to keep a reasonable distance from it. “We can make a road trip out of it, we’ll stock up on the nougat for Dustin and we can get a big bag of sours for us, we’ll get a motel along the way, obviously we’ll get a room to ourselves, i’ve got enough from working at the video store flat out, we can take your car, it’s nicer than mine and it’ll make Dustin look cool in front of Suzie. He’s probably told her all about you, y’know”

You were aware you were rambling but it was anything to take your mind of the idea that you might not have a tomorrow to think about as soon as you got to where that thing was going.

Steve nodded, he couldn’t quite say how much he liked the idea of getting a road trip with you, about how much he’d love to drop Dustin at Suzies for the day to let the young love birds catch up and for you and him to go out somewhere just the two of you, maybe even stay in a motel, order room service and make out. Instead he just leant over and gave you a kiss. In that moment he decided, If you were about to rush into probable death he wouldn’t let it happen without telling you.

He didn’t care anymore that Nancy or Jonathan could see if they glanced over their shoulder.

“I love you, I’ve been in love with you for ages” his tone was low, just enough for you to hear.

“I love you, Steve,” you kissed him again. The way you said it was different to how Nancy used to say it. You didn’t hesitate to return the sentiment, your eyes met his when you said it and you gave him a smile in spite of the beyond dangerous situation you were barrelling towards.

“We go together right,” you asked.

You didn’t need to ask. Steve knew.

“What? The road trip or certain death?” he quirked his eyebrows.

“Both,”

**

Lucas had briefed you all outside of Starcourt on his plan, and handed you all a fair amount of fireworks each. You’d break into sections; and surround the creature on the top, meaning El, Max and Mike wouldn’t be stuck fighting from the lower mall. His plan was basically “light, throw, grab another, throw again”.

Being completely to the point, you weren’t sure it would work but hell. It was the best you had.

Together you’d crept up the metal stairs of the fire exit, trying hard to stop your legs shaking. You could hear the low frequency roars of the monster from where you stood. It sounded like it was coming from all sides.

Once you made your way out of the door and on to the top level, there’d be no turning back.

You took a breath before resting your shaking hand on the door handle. The others had headed to the other entrances to the upper floor.

“Hey, we’ve got this” Steve who was only one step behind you, sensed your apprehension “Remember what you said. We stick together. You’ll have me with you the whole time, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you,”

You nodded and as you pushed open the door and crept to your positions, you could see the monster climb down through the wide open ceiling and advance towards El, who was trying to edge away from it as Billy watched expressionless.

Steve caught Lucas’ eye and nodded. The monster stilled, it’s mouth expanding.

“Okay [Name.]. Now” Lucas called over to you both, standing up and lobbing the firework directly into its side.

The creature let out a pained growl

“Flay this, you ugly piece of shit,” the younger boy called, his next firework hitting it directly in the mouth as it snapped around to the source.

“Nice aim” you called over

The mall lit up in a series of greens, yellows and reds as you broke away from taking turns throwing from different sides to bombarding from any direction.

“Erm guys,” Steve shouted over the crackling of the fireworks “We’re almost out over here,”

“I know” Will shouted back, his voice loud over the exploding “So are we!”

You threw one of your last large fireworks, and whipped around to Steve “It has to be now,” You told him, tossing your radio over before turning back to the dwindling pile. “I’ll keep throwing, call it in,”

Wasting no time, Steve forgone the call signs and scrambled for the radio “Dustin! We’re out of time!”

You could only vaguely hear your brothers reply. The crackling and banging from all ends plus the blood thumping in your ears was overwhelming everything.

Beneath you, you could see Billy had wrestled El to the ground and despite her struggling, hed gained the upper hand.

You fumbled back to the bag at the same time as Steve and you both reached inside, but your hands only found one firework left.

Shit.

His eyes met yours. “You or me,” he asked, a little breathless.

“You. You’ve got better aim” you rushed back, grabbing the lighter and lighting the fuse for Steve to lob the final firework.

From your glance over to Jonathan and Nancy you could see they had also ran out.

“What now?” you shouted, over the noise. The smoke trails of the fireworks were clearing and through the wisps and sparks, you could see Billy grapple with El as the monster inched forward.

“It’s not enough, we haven’t done enough,” you pressed your hands to your face. “Shit we need to do something,”

Steve glanced over at the floor below, he could see Billy stand up, as the creature let out a deafening roar.

“Come on come on come on, close the gate already” he muttered.

Billy’s arms shot out in an attempt to stop it, only to scream out in pain when it latched on to him.

“Fuck” you cursed. “What the hell is he doing? Should we help him?,” you turned to the others, your eyes wide. Jonathan looked pale white and Nancy shook her head

“I don’t think we can,” she bit her lip. “I don’t think we can do anymore,”

The monster took one last stab at Billy before dropping him, leaving him bleeding heavily on the floor of the mall. Max let out a loud scream that you could hear from your positions above even over all the chaos and you felt your heart break for her. Billy had never been the nicest brother to her but he was her brother nonetheless and he’d clearly sacrificed himself to save El. In spite of everything, he’d given himself up to save one of the kids.

Only a moment later and you heard an almighty screech and saw one of the many limbs flailing towards you, careening into the railing beside you.

“Get back” Steve turned towards you and pulled you back towards one of the walls and away from the edge, just in time.

With a groan and a thud that shook the whole mall, it fell to the ground with a weak snarl.

“Did...they? did they...” Steve couldn’t get the words out, as they fumbled over his lips unable to quite form a full sentence. One hand was still gripping the radio so hard you were surprised it hadn’t cracked, the other holding on to yours.

You could hear your brother and Erica on the other end but your ears were still ringing, and you could barely make out what they were saying.

You could only nod. “I think so”.

**

By the time, you were checked over, things had slowly started to set in, you’d been asked by about three men in uniform

what the hell had happened, and given the same version of events each time.

After that they’d given you a blanket and you’d joined Steve on the back of the ambulance, who wrapped in his own blanket had rested his head on your shoulder.

The two of you sat in silence, watching everyone mill around in the wreck that once was Starcourt. The skies had opened to rain for what felt like the first time in ages and you couldn’t help but turn your face up to the cool mist.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” you muttered to him, after a few moments. “We should get some sleep”

“Don’t. I... uh-,” Steve paused “I don’t want to be alone, not after all that,” he grimaced. “My dads out of town and...l”

“You won’t be alone, silly, you’ll be with me...and Dustin,” you reached for his hand in a small comforting gesture. “You didn’t think I’d leave you alone after all that, did you,”

Steve lifted his head off your shoulder and looked at you, taking in every detail of your face, the way the rain had plastered your tussled hair to your face, the wide eyed gaze focused on him, the curve of your nose and the tweak of your lips. You were without a doubt, in his mind, the best person he had ever known.

“What?” you eyebrows piqued.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he leant in pressing his forehead to yours.

Your heart broke a little at that. Your brave, bright, upbeat Steve didn’t even see how wonderful he was. How sweet he was, how kind he was to the kids, how dorky he was and how much you loved when he just embraced it. He looked completely drained.

You moved your hands up to cup his face. His cuts had been cleaned by one of the paramedics but he still sported a fairly nasty black eye. You kicked yourself mentally for having left him and Robin to the Russians, even though you knew if you’d attempted to take on a Russian soldier, you’d likely have gotten into a lot worse.

“Steve...”

“I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you,” he carried on.

“You’d be fine,” you traced his cheekbone, softly as not to put pressure on the bruises. “You’re better than you give yourself credit for”

“I really wouldn’t,” he broke your gaze for a second before you tilted his face back up to place a kiss on his lips. “Even still I wouldn’t want to ever be without you,”

“Well you don’t have to be without me, I’m not going anywhere,”

Steve offered his hand up only holding up his pinky “Promise?,”

“Forever and ever,” you kept one hand on his cheek before linking the pinky on your free hand with the one he had held up to you.

[yikesharringrove]

Oooh spin the usual narrative around and maybe Steve got some really cool tattoos on his back after high school and Billy is just being all sweet on him later and notices them and LOVES them and is all like "ride me and show me" and won't let Steve finish until he describes all his tatts on his back

Smut

-

Billy hadn’t been in Hawkins, Indiana for about three years.

He had fled pretty much as soon as he got that diploma, had packed up his car the night before, tossed his stupid cap and gown in the trunk, and just fucking left.

But here he was, ready to watch Max and the rest of her brats graduate.

He was standing, feeling weird in his best shirt, sweating under the Hawkins sun.

And there was Steve Harrington. Of course he would come for his kids, was probably gonna tear up as they made their way across the stage. He could see Steve’s big hair sitting close to the front, with Henderson’s mom, looking just the same.

He spent the entire ceremony glaring holes in the back of Steve’s head, only looked up when Maxine Elizabeth Mayfield stomped across the stage, rolling her eyes as Susan and Neil made a big to-do somewhere in the crowd.

Then went right back to staring at Harrington.

He looked good.

Like, still looked as hot as he did in high school, but he looked,

he looked like a man.

He had shot stubble along his jaw, and he looked a little more filled out.

He was waiting for Max, standing with her mother off to the side when Steve turned, and noticed Billy.

His eyes went wide, and he began making his way over.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Long time no see.” He pulled Billy into a hug, a tight, sweet good-smelling hug. “You look good, man.” He smiled brightly at Billy.

“Yeah, Harrington. You too.” And he did.

“Hey, uh, all the kids are having a little shindig at The Byers’, I’d love to catch up with you.” He rubbed down Billy’s arm, made him so much fucking hotter than the bright sun.

-

The kids’ party was a nice barbecue in the Byers’ backyard.

They were all running around, getting in food fights and being stupid idiots.

Billy can respect that, the last summer before leaving all your friends.

Billy didn’t really have friends to leave, though. Just kinda, left, one day.

He kept his eyes on Steve the whole time, watched the way he smiled and laughed with the kids, the way his eyes kept flicking back to Billy.

The sun was beginning to set when Steve came over to the stairs Billy was perched on, two beers in hand.

He gave Billy one, settling right next to him.

“So, what have you been up to? Been, what three years?” Billy had left the day he graduated, hopped in his car and didn’t stop ‘till he saw the ocean.

“Moved back home. I’m working at a garage, now.” Steve gave him another nice smile. “Saving up to maybe go to school, or get a house or something.” He shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. “What about you? Got a girlfriend?”

“Ha! No. Not really, dating right now.” A slow grin spread over Billy’s face.

“Just fuckin’?” Steve’s cheeks went red, but he didn’t deny anything. “Yeah, me too, Harrington.”

Steve laughed, pushing at his rolled up shirt sleeve.

It was just under his elbow, and Billy zeroes in on dark black ink winding down to an elegant curl on the side of his elbow.

“Any good stories?” Billy licked over his teeth.

He had stopped pretending in California, didn’t really want to here either.

“Well, I mean, there was this one guy, just absolute maniac. He had this thing about getting caught, so we’d go out to shitty bars, see how long it took before we got kicked out. We got away with a lot at most of ‘em, though.”

He watched Steve carefully, didn’t even see a twitch.

And then,

“Oh, I was kinda seeing a guy like that.” Billy’s brain shorted out. “There’s a gay bar down the block from my place in Chicago, and he’d take me out on the dance floor, and this one night, we just about fucked before someone noticed what we were doin’. It was kinda fun.”

Billy’s mind was racing, pictured pulling Steve onto a crowded dance floor, pushing his hands down his pants, fingering him, letting him rut against his thigh until he cums in his pants.

“So you, you’re gay?”

“Bi, actually. Figured that one out right away after movin’.”

“Yeah? Let your queer little flag fly?”

“It’s been fun.” Steve shrugged. Billy licked his lips, had an idea.

“Y’know, you coulda been havin’ fun way before you moved.” He leaned into Steve’s space, looking at him through his lashes.

Steve’s cheeks went red.

“It’s not too late, is it?” Billy stood up, tugging his keys out of his jeans pocket.

“I got a shitty motel room bed with your name on it, Pretty Boy.” Steve scrambled behind him, tossing himself into the passenger seat of his car.

He grinned at Billy.

-

Billy drove like a bat outta Hell, getting Steve to his motel room as fast as possible.

He led him inside, slamming Steve against the door the minute they got in.

He kissed Steve roughly, licking inside his mouth.

Steve moaned into his mouth, fumbling with the buttons on Billy’s shirt.

Billy pulled him, shoving him onto the bed, taking Steve’s shirt off in turn.

And there was the ink.

It curled down both of Steve’s arms, leading from his back.

“Holy shit.” Billy traced on of the curling tendrils. “Never begged you for a tattoo type.” Steve shrugged, his eyes flicking down to trail over Billy’s body.

“I like it.”

“Can I see?” Steve pushed on him gently, but then he got an idea. “Wait,” he grinned at Steve. “Ride me and let me see them.” Steve smiled devilishly back up at him.

He pushed Billy, swapped their positions.

He was straddling his waist, could feel how hard Billy was underneath him.

“Only if you get me all ready.”

Billy undid Steve’s belt, tearing his khakis open.

Steve sat up, awkwardly wiggling out of them to sit back down, completely naked on Billy’s lap. He took Billy’s hand, kept direct eye contact as he sucked on Billy’s fingers.

He was like a fucking pornstar, his eyes going all dark and sultry as he licked over Billy’s fingers, sucked them into his mouth.

“Jesus, Stevie. You’re so fuckin’ hot.” Steve smirked at him, pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a pop, guiding Billy’s hand around his hips, leaning forward over Billy.

“Go ahead.” Billy jostled him a little closer, rubbing his spit slick fingers over his hole.

He pushed one inside.

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned, so loud and pretty.

“God, wished we had done this years ago.” Billy was now pumping his finger in and out of Steve.

“I was pretty repressed back then. Don’t know if I would’ve done this.” Billy eased in another finger. Steve took him so well.

“Then, glad I got here just in time.”

“Welcome to my slutty phase.” He grinned at Billy, grinding his hips back and forth on his fingers.

Billy spread his fingers, scissoring them open and closed, getting him open. Steve squirmed a little.

“Just like,” he took Billy’s wrist, shoving his fingers in deeper. Billy curled his fingers. “Oh, yeah.” He started tossing his ass back, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers. “Fuck.”

He collapsed forward, burying his face in Billy’s neck.

Billy tried to get a look at the dark ink covering him from neck to upper ass cheek.

“I’m I’m ready.” Steve bat Billy’s hand away, turning around.

He lined up Billy’s cock, sinking down on it.

Billy’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy groaned. Steve felt like Heaven.

He looked over his shoulder, tossing him a wry smile. Billy clung to his hips.

“Like what you see?”

The tattoo was beautiful.

It was an intricate monster, tall and skeletal, a face like a flower, opened up with rows and rows of horrible teeth. There appeared to be black smoke coming from behind the monster, delicate furls of something, maybe vines? They climber up Steve’s shoulders, wrapped around his arms.

It shouldn’t have been sexy, staring at this thing while Steve bounced on his cock, but it was Steve bouncing on his cock, tossing his head back and moaning.

“What do you think?”

“I think, you don’t get to cum until I tell you all my thoughts on this art.” Steve moaned loudly. “This fuckin’, fuckin’ monster. Black ink looks real pretty on you, Baby.”

Steve turned again to look over his shoulder.

“Tell me about it.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t be turned on, lookin’ at this thing. It’s like, it’s like it’s screaming at me.” Steve shuddered. Billy didn’t know if it was a good shudder or a bad one. “I can, I can see the saliva in it’s mouth.”

And then Steve stopped, panting heavily.

He pulled off of Billy, turning to face him again.

“Sorry, that’s just, you know, not the best dirty talk material.” Billy grinned at him.

In one swift motion he rolled on top of Steve, slamming his way back inside of him.

“You want good material? You want me to tell you about how often I jerked off to you in high school? Pictured how pretty your lips would look around my cock? Thought about how tight your little hole would be?”

That was apparently the stuff.

Steve’s eyes were wide, his hair wild on the pillow behind him. He was panting shallowly, just accepting what Billy was giving him.

“Thought about taking you all kindsa ways. Thought about bendin’ you over in the showers after P.E. and just fucking you right there, in front of everyone.”

Steve’s back arched beautifully, and his thighs trembled against Billy’s sides as he came, thick white spunk sticking their stomachs together.

“Yeah? That get you going? The idea of people watching, of being made my bitch?”

“Jesus, Billy, I already finished.” His cock gave a flimsy little kick as if proving his point.

“Yeah, now I’m getting myself off.” Steve laughed at him, shifting his hips to let Billy drive in deeper.

“That what get you there? Pining me down? Making me your bitch?” Billy moved a little faster, a little rougher. “Now’s your chance, Tiger. Gimme your cum, ruin me.”

Billy bit down on Steve’s neck, made him yelp as he bucked his hips, cumming inside of him.

He breathed for a minute, rolling off of Steve.

Steve stretched like a cat, wincing slightly.

“Lemme see your art again. Was a little distracted with the sight of my dick in your ass.” Steve laughed, rolling over onto his stomach.

Billy traced the monster’s mouth with light fingers.

“It’s cool.”

“Will Byers drew it. Kind of reminds me to, you know, put the past behind me. I know it’s cheesy but,” he shrugged, trailing off.

“Sometimes cheesy works.” Steve’s cheek was smushed against the pillow as he studied Billy.

“What’s it like being back in Hawkins? Must be weird coming back after being gone.”

“Nah. Nothing’s really changed. Weirder coming in blind that first time.” He traced one of the black vines. “I thought you were in Chicago?”

“I am. Only moved out there about six months ago. Didn’t get into college or anything, so I’ve been working shitty jobs, saving up some money. Thinking about running away some more. Get further away.”

“You’re always welcome in California. I got a pull out couch.” He licked over his teeth. “Or you could share my bed.”

“Are you asking me to give you sex in exchange for a place to stay?”

“You did say you’re in your slutty phase.” Steve laughed, burying his face in the pillow.

“We’ll see if I get desperate enough to get outta here to take you up on that offer.”

“You could drive back with me. Stay for awhile, fly back. See if you like it.”

High school Billy would be creaming in his pants right about now, asking Steve Harrington to run away to California with him.

Steve looked at him, his face unreadable.

“I could go for a little adventure.”

[siempre-pedro]

Should I Tell Her?

Javier Peña x Reader 

Summary: Colleen is reveling in her new found confidence after Javi comments on her nails. She messed with the wrong woman after she starts giving “friendly” advice to you. 

A/N: Colleen babe I am so sorry I am doing this to you. You don’t deserve this “villain” card. I just had to do it. 

Word count: 2k 

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Kinda like back in high school when that cute senior boy would say hello to you once and you were hooked? Made you believe that he liked you? Yeah, that's how Colleen saw it. You were there the day Javi waltzed into your shared office with the woman and charmed her to get what he wanted. Friendly, but charming and oh boy was the poor woman hooked. You thought nothing of it originally, Javi flirted to get what he wanted regularly. 

"Y/N!" Colleen perks up when you walked into the office a few mornings after the encounter. A little too cheery for 8:30 in the morning, you offer up a polite smile and put your small white bag on your desk "Look, look, I got my nails done again," she announced pointing her hands down to show off the deep purple color of her manicure. 

"Cute, did you go to that place down the street?" You ask, taking your morning apple out of your bag. Colleen nods and cocks her head, her lips pouting. 

"I'm sure Javi will notice." Your eyebrows raise, almost surprised at her words. She was giddy and excited about the future interaction that they might face. You touch the cold apple to your lips, tapping it gently, was now the right time to tell her? Nah, it probably wasn't going to happen again. 

The sounds of loud chatter from the distance were making their way to the office, a conversation of having terrible Spanish made you laugh. Pena and Murphy entered the room, looking at each other with boyish smiles on their faces. "Morning guys, how can I help you?" Colleen asked over-enthusiastically making you roll her eyes. Javi places his hands down on her desk and looks at her paperwork. 

Taking a bite you watched her lean into him, God you wanted to choke. "I just wanted to say thanks for the id, it really helped," Javi thanked her graciously and tapped his knuckles on her desk. He stood up straight and started to walk off with his partner. The agent offered a quick good morning to you as he walked past your desk. 

You waved your hand at him nonchalantly and sat back in your brown leather chair, unamused. Colleen sighs and turns to you, sympathy etched on her face as she watched you eat. Your Y/E/C catches her gaze in your peripheral view and slowly start to turn your eyes towards her. 

Taking another bite of your apple she starts to speak "I'm sorry that happened, Y/N." 

"Sorry for what?" You ask confused in between chews. 

"Javi saw you with food in your mouth," she says, "I know you have a crush on him." 

Her words made you choke on your apple, roughly coughing into your elbow and putting the remainder of the fruit on your desk. "E-excuse me?" You ask in shock, your cheeks went red from the choking, not a blush, make no mistake! 

"I see how you look at him, Honey. Maybe next time don't have food in your mouth, I'm so glad I didn't." 

You were stunned by the audacity of your co-worker's passive-aggressiveness "I don't have a crush on Peña" you defend yourself, which was partly true. You didn't have to have a crush on him. 

Colleen crosses her legs and looks away from you, shrugging her shoulders and turning her attention to her computer. The audacity! Your mouth hung open as you watched her work. Maybe it was a good time to tell her. 

The first comment snowballed into an almost everyday occurrence. You went about your day and she wouldn't hesitate to make a comment about you. God forbid you had a small hole in your stocking...you didn't tell her why you did. For the most part, you were able to block it out, sometimes it was even laughable. You didn't need him to notice you, but the brunette was desperate for the agent's attention. 

12:30 rolled around a week later and you were starving, the golden-brown bagel sitting on your desk was calling your name, sitting there underneath the heat of your desk lamp. "Javi's coming don't eat that!" Colleen warns you as the two men walked in. 

You grimace and pick up the bagel, taking a large bite out of spite "Y/N can you bring me those papers, please?" Javi asks as he stops in front of your desk. Murphy stands behind him, his watchful eyes watching Colleen glaring at you. What the hell was going on? 

Swallowing, you nod "Yeah, they should almost be done printing. I'll be right there." You got up and made sure to take another bite of your snack, giving Colleen a scowl as you walk towards the printer,  "I need carbs, Colleen." 

"Does she know?" Murphy asks as you walk into their office, slapping the thick stack of reports onto Javi's desk. You shake your head and sit on the corner of your boyfriend's desk, your dress draping nicely over your knees. 

"Nope," you respond, a small amused smile forming on your lips. Javi stood in between you and his partner, arms crossed over his chest. He was confused as you two looked at each other in shared amusement. 

"You should tell her," Steve comments. 

"I will if her little...," you sigh deeply "comments get worse. I have to get back to work, I'll see you guys for dinner later." Hoping off the desk, Javi came up behind you and gently caught you by the bicep. You stopped walking and turned to him, unconsciously leaning into him. It was a habit.

"Is something wrong, Hermosa?" he asks in a hushed tone, he brought his face closer to yours, catching a whiff of the expensive cologne you bought him. 

"It's just Colleen, Javi. It's no big deal," you reassure him, the corners of your lips turning upwards into a kind smile. The man nods and lets you go, opening the door for you. 

What you said wasn't a lie, the words didn't bother you but they did make you hungrier. They didn't bother you until the next morning when you walked in wearing a new dress, it was a form-fitting dark blue dress and you felt really good, your self-confidence was thriving. 

You walked into the office with your head held high and Colleen looked at you with a big grin "Y/N! Oh my God, that dress! It's so cute," she comments. You smile at her and take a seat at your desk, turning on your computer. 

Colleen was silent, but she couldn't help but notice you in that dress, she sighs and stops typing. Her hands folded in her lap, looking towards you with a condescending look that you could just slap if you noticed her. 

"That's brave of you to wear something like that," she says with a smile, the fakeness dripping off every word.  You pause and look up from your screen, but never at her. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Yeah wearing something like that... I mean, you're brave with having that kind of shape." Your blood was boiling at this point, your jaw clenched so tight you were afraid of breaking it. "Javi's into a whole other woman, I think I fit his type... I think I'm going to ask him out." 

It was amazing how someone could sound cold and mean and then at the very end of the sentence twist her tone into mock kindness. That bitch. It was all fun and games until she mentioned Javier and her body type. You take your fingers off the keys and rise from your seat. Seething anger apparent on your features.  All fun and games until someone gets hurt. Ready to raise a fist to the woman, the sound of fast footsteps were becoming louder

"Y/N, I need your help in the evidence room, we got a lead on Escobar," Javi was quick, almost running past you as he spoke. The urgency couldn't be ignored. You simply shake your head at the women in front of you and take off after Javi. 

Following him into the room, you start looking at the back wall where most of the new evidence was stored "What are we looking for. Photos? Call records?" the agent didn't answer, he was too busy locking the door and shutting the blinds. 

"I need none of those things," he practically growls. He walks up behind you and places his large hands on your hips, spinning you around. "I've missed you, Mi Amor," his words are muffed, his lips attacking your neck. You let out a small breathy moan and look up at the ceiling. 

"Javi," you squeak, grabbing at his olive green shirt. You just weren't into it, normally you were ready for him to take you on the desk behind him but Colleen's words linger in your mind. 

Javier could feel how tense you were, he removes his lips with a small noise and looks up at you "Y/N, is something bothering you?" he asks, his deep brown eyes staring into yours. 

You could have easily said no and let him carry on but instead, you push past him and put your hands on your hips "I-it's just Colleen and her misplaced confidence," you groan. Picking up a stack of papers only to slam them back down in frustration, Javi crosses his arms and leans against the metal shelving. "I should have just told her we were together! But no! She had to go and have the audacity to say I wasn't your type and she was!" You were almost yelling. 

Javi looks down at the floor, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as he listens to you rant. He knows this is his fault, he shouldn't have given her the attention he did to get information. Fuck. He looks back up at you, now pacing back and forth in the small room as you ranted, God you looked amazing in the dress he bought you. Perfection is what he saw. 

He pushes himself off the wall and moves over to you, wrapping your figure in his embrace "Listen, Baby," he starts, pressing a scratchy kiss to your forehead mustache making your nose crinkle, "This is my fault, Y/N." 

"No, Javi...I should have said something about us," you admitted, shaking your head. The man pulls back and runs his hands down your tense bicep 

"Baby, you are my just my type...and so much more. There's no comparison." 

"Promise?" Your eyebrows knit together, eyes starting to fill with tears. He steps a little closer and places his hands on your sides, fingers hooking the fabric and slowly hiking the dress up. The new cold feeling on your thighs sent shivers through your body. 

"I promise," he purrs in your ear, "Why don't I clear off that desk and show you just how much my type you are, Hermosa." 

The next morning you sat at your desk, turtle neck top covering up the hickies from the night before. Turns out Javi wasn't done after their time in the evidence room. Colleen wasn't giving you any problems, the silence was music to your ears. 

Javier and Steve walked into the room, Javi's hands full with two coffee's and a pastry in a fancy bag barely handing on. "Colleen this is for you," Javi tells her cheerfully, handing her the basic white to-go cup. Colleen's face perked up and happily took it from him. 

The agent didn't say anything after she said thank you, except offered a polite smile before walking to your desk "Good morning, Mi Amor," he greets you lovingly, his voice raising when he says the pet name. The woman next you glancing over at you two. 

You stood up and smiled "Good morning, Javi." He holds out the more elaborate to go up and pastry "Is this from the place by your apartment?" you ask, looking at the little logo on the cup. 

"Yeah I know you like it there, I hope you like it." Javi leans in and you know what he's about to do. The kiss was probably too much for the workplace, the way a small about of his tongue could be seen entering your mouth. Colleen's eyes were about to bug out of her head! Her mouth opened wide and eyes furrowed in anger. 

Murphy coughed awkwardly and turned his head "We uh- should get to work, Jav," he warns. 

Javier pulls away with a satisfied smirk "Have a good day, Ladies." 

You watch them walk away, bringing the steaming hot cup of coffee to your lips, the smirk very present. You glance over at Colleen who was frozen with shock. The look alone wiped any thought of vengeance you had. You sat sipping your coffee happily, and she never spoke about the situation again. 

[just-my-fandom]

Brought Back Pt 2 (Billy Hargrove x Elevens Sister! Reader)

Pt 2; A year after the readers disappearance, Joyce finds a book at the library with the readers name as the author, and reunites the reader with her sister and boyfriend who she doesn’t know. The gang finds out that the reader has been living a new life in the city beside Hawkins

Tag list; @truthdaze @bandsandanimefreak @scarletmeii @harduy @kcd15 @superficialfeelings @writer-of-camelot @intheendyouwillalwayskneel @hanoil5 @meaganjm @isistersuck @sweetdayme4427 @noodlenerd101

Comment below if you’d like to be added to the tag list

Long A/N; I am SO sorry I haven’t updated this story. In all honesty I thought no one would like the plot, but reading through the comments I saw a lot of people wanted a part two, maybe three and four. Updating will come slow due to school and life outside of school, but I hope you like this part :)

Previously on Brought Back

“Get her in the van, check for a pulse,”

Dr. Brenner slams the van door shut, looking down at the girl laying in the floor of the van. Burns patterned on her face, blood stained under her nose,

“Alive,” The scientist across from him grunts, hand grabbing your jaw, “Just unconscious. Shouldn’t we take her back to those kids?”

“I lost one of my children,” Brenner looks down at you, “Not loosing another,”

“But sir,” The scientist frowns, “We need both experiments. One won’t help,”

“It’s a good start,” Brenner knocks the seat of the driver, “Drive. Let’s get out of here before those children see us,”

. . .

“I’m heading to the labs today,”

You look up from your book silently, curled against the couch of your two bedroom house,

Dr Brenner hands at the door, lab coat hanging over one arm, “Lock the door when I leave, double check the house for opened windows,”

“Yes, father,” You set your book down to stand, waving to Brenner as you shut the door behind him, quick to secure the knob lock, the slide lock above it, and the big lock above the second,

You move to each window in the living room, tugging for sure of their locks, and when you move to the kitchen, a swift knock hits the front door, your body spinning to stare at the door in confusion,

Had Brenner forgotten something? His keys?

You slowly step up to the door, eye peaking through the peep hole even to you, and you blink at the sight of a woman, with dirty brown hair and an aged look, holding a book tightly in her hand, your book,

“Can I help you?” You ask loudly through the door, watching through the peep hole as she faces the door, almost instantly recognizing your voice,

“Y/N? It’s me, Joyce? I came to talk,”

Joyce? Your brows pinch, fingers holding the top lock, “I don’t know anyone named Joyce,”

Joyce breathes out in disbelief, shaking her head, “Y/N, I’m Joyce, remember? I know your father, Hopper,”

You quickly unlock the door, swinging it open to reveal your figure, your eyes narrowed towards the woman, “Who’s Hopper?” Your eyes scan her form swiftly, “And my father is not Hopper. I live with my real father,”

“Your real father?” Joyce tilts her head, and you nod,

“My father, Dr Brenner. I’m not supposed to be talking to strangers, so please, leave before he gets home,” As you close the door, Joyce catches her hand to the door, stopping it from fully shutting,

“Listen to me,” She pleas, breathless as you crack the door to blink, “Dr Brenner is not your father. You have a sister named Jane but we call her Eleven, your real parents are gone, so you were adopted by a man by Jim Hopper, but after he passed,” She intakes a deep breath, “I was going to take you and Eleven in, but you disappeared the night everything happened,”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You ask quietly, Joyce frowning through light tears,

“You really don’t remember me?” She asks through a small crack in her voice, and you frown when noticing; she’s severally distressed that you don’t know who she is,

“No, I’m sorry,” You mutter, “Last thing I remember is waking up in the labs,”

“Can I take you somewhere?” Joyce asks quickly, hands up again, “I have people that know you, we can remind you of who you are,”

“But I don’t know you,” You press, irritation in your voice, “Please go away. I’m glad you enjoy my book,”

“Y/N please,” Joyce pleas, and you inhale a deep breath from behind the door, before peeking your head out, nodding,

“Let me grab my jacket,”

“Thank God,” Joyce breathes, hand running through her hair as you move to the couch, lifting your jacket and sliding it on,

“Can I ask where we are going?” You ask quietly, as you move to the front seat of the car,

“There’s a small town just next to here called Hawkins,” Joyce explains, “I think it’d be best to take you to the kids first since you were closer to them,”

“Kids?” You press, and Joyce smiles sadly towards you,

“There’s a group of them, your sister, Eleven, her boyfriend, Mike, Mikes best friends Dustin, Max and Lucas, and my son, Will,” She continues, “Steve is one of your best friends, and Billy,”

“Is my boyfriend?” You question, Joyce smiling and nodding, but she frowns again,

“I don’t really know what to call you two now that you’ve been gone for a year, Max told me Billy hasn’t really been himself after everything with those monsters,” She shivers,

“What monsters?” You tilt your head, and look at the smaller houses that passed by that let you know you were now in Hawkins,

“Right,” Joyce sighs, “I think it’ll be best to explain it once the kids see you again,”

“Why?” You ask, Joyce frowning a third time and stopping her car in front of a small, three bedroom house,

“It’ll all make sense later,” She breathes, smiling, “Come on, everyone’s inside,”

“Shouldn’t I call my father?” You inhale, nervously stepping out of the car, “He’ll be so mad that I left without telling him,”

“Y/N,” Joyce places her hands on top of the car, “Brenner doesn’t care about you. What happened to you, you disappearing and you not remembering? He is the cause of that,”

“I don’t understand,” You whisper, Joyce rounding the car to take your hand,

“Come on,” She murmurs, “Lets get inside,”

When Joyce opens the door to lead you into the living room, your teeth had nibbled at your bottom lip, eyes instantly landing on a group of seven kids, who all turned to look at the Byers mother’s appearance,

“Oh my God,” The red headed girl drops her stack of cards so they flew out in front of her, the boy with black hair beside her gaping at you wordlessly before looking at the other girl across from him, who had only looked up at her friends gasp,

When the kids all stand up and begin shouting questions, Joyce throws up her hands as she steps in front of you, “Take it easy!” She demands, “She doesn’t remember, Brenner did something to make her forget,”

“Brenner?” The male your age, who you guessed was Steve, questions, “You mean the doctor who took El and Y/N to begin with?”

“It’s going to be a lot to explain to all of you,” Joyce calms, “But I think we should do introductions and maybe have Max call Billy,”

. . .

“So I saved everyone?”

You and Eleven sit cross cross in front of each other on the couch, your hands in your lap silently,

“With your powers,” Eleven nods, slowly, “You do know about your powers, right?”

You nod in mock, smiling, “I wish I knew everything Brenner did to us after I woke up in the lab again,” You mutter, “I’m so sorry I disappeared like that El,”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Eleven frowns, but smiles when you pull her forward into a hug,

“Billy’s here,” Max exclaims, sliding up to the door in her socks, “I honestly won’t be surprised if he starts crying like a baby,”

“From what El told me, Billy sounds like an ass,” You stand up, straightening your shirt self consciously,

“I mean, yeah,” Max shrugs, “But he really cared about you, Y/N. Seeing you again will change everything,”

“Let’s hope so,” Eleven takes your hand, when noticing you fidgiting, and Max opens the door to step on the porch, talking swiftly to her step brother,

“Why the hell am I here, Max?” A gruff voice has you looking down at Eleven, and she smiles reassuringly when Max steps back in, her step brother following close behind but stopping when he sees you, his jaw clenching as you release Elevens hand, putting them in front of you,

“Is this a joke?” Billy asks finally, Max pinching her eyebrows as you frown and look down,

“No, it’s not,” Max protests, “Like I told you I’ll explain everything once you saw her,”

“It was my father, Billy,” You speak, so Billy looked from Max to you, “Or the man who pretended to be my father, the man who tested me for my powers,”

“Where’d you go?” He asks, softer, and Max nods to Eleven so they stepped into the back hallway,

“The town over,” You explain, quietly, as he stepped up to you so he was nearly in front of you, “When I woke up I didn’t remember anything. My “father” lied to me and kept me locked in a home, locked doors, locked windows,” You swallow, “I couldn’t even remember you,”

“But do you remember me?” Billy asks, and you can see the pain behind his fiery blue eyes that makes your stomach turn,

“It’s slowly coming back to me,” You sigh, “Eleven had to explain everything with the Mindflayer and what happened to you,”

Billy’s sudden action of cupping your head causes you to inhale, lifting your eyes to his when his lips press hard against yours, and your mind becomes fuzzy when your eyes shut,

“Get away from her, or I swear to God I will fuck you up!”

Your eyes snap open at your distant shout in the sudden memory, your head pulling back to gasp in a deep breath, Billy’s hands now firm on your hips as you raise a hand to your nose, looking down at the red staining your fingers,

“What?” Billy asks, and you notice how he’s calm upon your sudden nose bleed, giving you the note that he’s seen your powers before,

“I saw something,” You exhale, holding a tissue over your nose, “It was us, we were in a mall, I think,” You pause, looking up at Billy a second time,

“I remember,”

[gagmebucky]

[biker!bucky. spanking. princess.]

He twists his hand in your hair and reels it back so his breath fans your profile; in your peripheral, you see his smug smile and scintillating orbs. “You walked around like you weren’t mine. But you are, aren’t you?” Before you can answer, he cracks down again. Another SLAP! delivered harder than before, extracting a higher sound from your throat. “Say that louder, princess; I don’t think the boys heard you.” 

in which biker!bucky spanks you. (includes biker!bucky x bartender!reader, implied voyeurism, dirty talk, spanking.) 

do not repost. 

—

He’s been watching you all night. 

As you flash simpering smiles, retorting half-hearted insults with a coquettish gleam in your eyes, and pass out drinks to the myriad of men lining your bar counter, he’s glowering between them and you. Seated in a corner booth, his jaw is ticking intermittently and his knee is bouncing.

A part of you rationalizes you’re only friends with benefits so you can be friendly, borderline flirty, with your patrons—it’s an important facet of your job, anyway, therefore he can’t be upset. Yet, every now and then, when your gazes connect, something otherwise tightens in your belly. 

It isn’t long before his buddies notice the thunder electrified in his blue eyes, feeling the glare burning into their backs as you laugh at one of their subpar jokes. Although most of them are, admittedly, not incongruous, they quickly deduce the correlation between their leader's mood and your interactions. 

His best friend, on the smarter side, decides to test this theory. With a lovable grin and a devious wholesomeness to his expression, Steve casts a side glance, then leans forward to speak in your ear. “You and Bucky, huh?” he whispers while you bite your lip, silence as an answer. “Not surprised, but you’re asking for trouble with all this, you know.” 

There’s no use in denying it, anymore. You laugh softly as your eyes clash against raging pools of the sea from across the room. Averting your gaze when Steve recoils, you nod with that mischievous, vaguely suggestive curve of your lips. 

“I knew I liked you, and it wasn’t just ‘cause you serve the drinks,” he says and winks. 

When you giggle, that’s his breaking point. He abruptly stands up to his broad, leather clad stature of six-foot, rakish features fixed in dark outrage, and slams his big hands on the counter. Pupils dilated, he narrows in on you and jerks his head in the direction of the back room—the same place where your first encounter unfolded. His voice is a growl when he demands, “Go, now.” 

“Barnes, you can't just talk to a lady like that!” a guy you recognize to be a newer member chastises before you can say anything. He turns to you and shakes his head, reaching out to grasp your wrist. “Sorry about him, sweetheart. Older guys don’t have the same politeness as us younger ones do.” 

In an instant, his hand is off your skin, and Bucky’s is wrapped around the back of his neck. “Touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fucking arm,” he hisses, seriousness concreted into his tone, and the guy’s eyes are widening with fear. 

Before he can make good on that violent promise, you’re darting around the counter and grabbing his shoulder. “James, it’s fine. Just c’mon—come on—” At your behest, he lets him go but in that same motion, his arms are cord around your waist and toss you over his shoulder. 

Other than a yelp as your abdomen drapes over his shoulder, secured in place by his arm across the back of your knees, you make no objections; neither does anyone, either intimidated or simply amused at the caveman-like display, but both reactions have your face flaming. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to see it for long because he’s hauling you into the back; doubling as the stock and break room, he brings you in and sets you on top of a circular table unceremoniously, looming over you with a deadly expression. 

You fight the quirk of your lips and blink dazedly up at him. “And what was that about?” you breathe like you’re oblivious to the game you were playing—of course, he knows better, and he isn’t laughing. 

His angular jaw locks and his eye twitches. “You think that was funny, princess?” He gestures to the bar with a perfunctory nod. 

It was but you still play the fool. “I don’t know what you mean,” you innocently answer, glancing past him at the partially door. “But I should go back out there. You know, you’re not supposed to bother me while I’m working. Especially when I’m the only one on duty!” Your hands curl around the table edge and prepare to hop off. “Speaking of which, I have to finish serving—”

You jump on your feet but before you can side-step him, he’s manhandling you. His hands spin you around by your hips, then one palms the small of your back and the other tangled into your hair; using the simultaneous holds, he bends you over the flat surface. 

You gasp as he tactfully positions his legs inside of yours, prising them wide, and presses his dark wash denim against your ass. His body above you cranes down until you can feel the outline of his defined muscles. He reigns over your senses in a flurry of old spice and clean leather. 

“What‘d you just say?” he growls rhetorically, arching your head up to speak in your ear, “you don’t know what I’m talking about?” He moves from your lower back to his jeans, buckle jiggling and clinking as he adroitly undoes it. “Then let me remind you, princess.” 

There’s a faint whipping sound when he pulls the belt free, and he wrenches both your arms back to encircle your wrists with the cool leather. Bound, his fist tightens in your soft locks while the other snakes underneath your skirt and harshly yanks it down so it pools around your ankles. 

“James!” you mean to admonish but how can you when he’s got your panties exposed and your face smushed against cold wood. Arousal pounds through your veins and liquefies in your center. “J - James—” Your attempt to speak stronger, a failed one at that, is abruptly cut off with a resounding cotton-on-flesh, SLAP! 

A muffled burning explodes through your left cheek as you cry out. It throbs and echoes in your clit, making you jolt against the fixture you’re flushed against. Your heart is already a kick drum but it somehow thumps faster, hitching your breath. 

He twists his hand in your hair and reels it back so his breath fans your profile; in your peripheral, you see his smug smile and scintillating orbs. “You walked around like you weren’t mine. But you are, aren’t you?” Before you can answer, he cracks down again. Another SLAP! delivered harder than before, extracting a higher sound from your throat. “Say that louder, princess; I don’t think the boys heard you.” 

That detail had evaded you until that moment, that the door is slightly ajar and you can be heard, and your eyes widen. Embarrassment coils in your gut, deepening the dampness in your panties despite yourself—which he takes the initiative to tear off.  “You are depraved—” SLAP! The skin-on-skin contract reverberates off the walls, intumescenting across your behind then radiating lower. “Fucking Christ, James!” 

“That’s right, princess. That’s exactly who owns you. Glad to see you’re remembering that. Seems you forgot it before.” His calloused palm caresses your asscheeks, soothing the glowing flesh with his fingers kneading into you. “I’ll make sure next time you won’t ‘cause you’ll remember this little lesson. Won’t you?”

You try to nod. “Y - yes,” you whimper, bucking into his touch to calm the sting beginning to drip down your thighs. “Will you please just. . .!” The words get stuck in your throat but he knows you, and he knows what you want.

The grip on your hair loosens to slide down your nape. “I’m depraved but you’re the one making a puddle on the ground, princess.” He traces down the cleft of your ass, a snail pace followed to your sticky slit. “You do know your place, don’t you? Y’just wanted me to mark up your pretty ass and get it that perfect shade of red, glowing with my handprint on your skin. You get off on it. Makes ya little pussy all wet and throbbing.”

His husky timbre is like a fireball scorching your nerves, and a shiver slithers down your spine as you gasp, “Y - yes!” Any attempt to careen into him is thwarted as his hand draws back with the wiggle of your ass. Another whimper works free from your throat. “Please touch me.” 

“If you deserve it. Tell everyone who you belong to.” 

“You,” you immediately breathe, and his caress returns, albeit lightly. The rough feel of his hand wedging between your thighs prompts you to elaborate with a, “Bucky Barnes!” His middle finger rasps over your folds, pad directed over your hooded clit from behind; another noise lulls out. “Please - please just stop teasing.”

You can feel him preen in pride as the tension thickens and shifts in sync with the blunt circles suddenly rubbing around your swollen bud. “Well, when you beg like that, how can I resist?”

[masterlist / feedback]

[navegandoaciegas]

the love you deserve II

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: almost 3k, ops

Summary: “He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve. Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly. Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

Warnings: soft!bucky, hurt!reader, angst, fluff, lying, cheating, drug use, alcohol consumption (including mentions of underage drinking), language that Steve Rogers wouldn’t approve of.

A/N: AU where Civil War and Thanos never happen, Tony forgives Bucky and he retires. This is my very first attempt at writing in English, I’m not a native speaker, so forgive me for any mistakes :)

This is part 2, please comment and reblog and let me know what you think of it :) feedback is always appreciated! I plan on writing at least another part, maybe two.

What do you think of the reader?

Part 1

The day before

Las Vegas, Nevada

Vegas is hot and dry as hell. It’s also a lot of fun, so the movies did not lie about that at least. They did exaggerate how fun the casinos would be tho.

You’re at a pool party, sipping on a drink, silently judging the moves of the sweaty people who are dancing around you.

You just got off a facetime call with Jaime, and god you miss him and Alpine too, but life is good and you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, your best friend is getting married to the man she loves and you’re having the time of your life with your girlfriends.

“So, you’re not having cold feet, are you?” you hear Hannah question Jade.

They’re basking in the sun around you.

Jade hesitates as she douses herself in sunblock.

“I gotta say I’m kind of scared but I’ve been dreaming about this for three years, so no? I guess. I don’t know. I love him.”

“That didn’t answer the question.” you observe.

“Are you sure you’re ready to commit to one dick only for the rest of your life?” Raven asks, and you all laugh and roll your eyes playfully.

Ever the commitaphobe, just like you. Well, like you used to be before you met Jaime.

You hate rush hour after work, you hate it so much in fact that you’d rather go to your work’s gym and workout even though you’re exhausted than catch a packed train.

By the time you get to the station most people are home already.

He’s here today.

You’ve seen him quite a lot in the past few weeks. The first thing you noticed about him is the way he seems to fold in on himself, his hunched shoulders and lowered head.

His bad posture aggravates you beyond reason, and you just wish you could go there and straighten his back without looking like a weirdo. But you can’t, so you just admire from afar like the good creep you are.

He’s always wearing a baseball cap over luscious but questionably greasy hair, huge winter jackets and leather gloves; still, underneath all that it’s clear he’s handsome. You always had a thing for men built like brick houses.

Today is the day, you think, today is the day I finally strike a conversation with the guy, it’s now or never.

Truth is, the loneliness he exudes breaks your heart and the way people avoid him like he’s got the plague enrages you for no particular reason. Somehow the ever indifferent New Yorkers would rather stand on a moving train than sit next to him, and that something about that that irks you way too much.

You really don’t understand why. Sure he’s intimidating, he’s a huge man, but he’s quiet and calm and he smiles softly when he spots a dog on the train. He gets off at same stop you do and no matter how isolate the station and the streets are by the time you get home, even if you two are the only ones there, you’ve never felt uneasy.

So you go and sit next to him, you smile when he looks up in surprise and you say hi.

He stutters an ‘evening ma’am’ and you’re proud of yourself because you’ve got it in you to made the big scary guy blush like a schoolgirl.

“Not to be a creep or anything but I’ve seen you around quite a lot, we commute together almost every day.” You chuckle and you introduce yourself.

“I uhm-” he’s cute when he furrows his brows “ I’m Jame- Jaime. I’m Jaime.”

You smile at the memory.

Jaime turned out to be a lot less shy than anticipated. He was a stuttering mess on the first few dates but the more you got to know him, the more he opened up to show his true sarcastic, snarky nature, whilst still being a gentle giant and an absolute sweetheart.

He’s thoughtful, cocky and sweet at the same time. He makes you melt in a puddle whenever he snuggles Alpine on the inside of his jacket, and the rumble of his voice is enough to make your brain short circuit and your panties dampen.

“There goes that look again, you’re such a love sick fool.”

“Oh God, you should see her when she’s with her precious Jaime, they literally have heart eyes, they’re so cute together it makes me sick to my stomach.”

You laugh and shake your head at Raven’s and Jade’s teasing.

“Hey, it’s not that bad, you should have seen yourself the day you met Matt, bitch, you looked like you’d never seen a man before. I ain’t forget.” you retort.

Hannah laughs and adds “When are we going to meet mystery man? It’s not fair that Jade only to got to see him. And word on the streets is that he’s real pretty.”

“When you three learn how to behave. But I can show you a picture, just please don’t be weird about it.” you finally relent after five months of avoiding the topic.

“He’s very, very hot ladies.” Jade quips.

You send her a side glance (goodnaturedly of course) and show them how pretty your sweet boy is.

Raven’s jaw goes slack as she clutches your phone and gawks at the picture.

“Lucky bastard, he’s literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, where did you find him and how did you convince him to be with you of all people?”

You laugh at Raven’s blunt remarks. They playful banter between the two of you has been going on since freshman year of college.

“Now I get why you have that dumb love struck face on you at all times.” Hannah adds.

Grace tho, she’s unusually quiet, and she stares at him with a scowl on her face. Her eyes travel slowly from your phone to your face, and the anticipation to know the reason why is killing you.

“Uhm, you’re dating him? And you said his name is Jaime?” she hesitates.

Whatever is going to come out of her mouth, you already know you’re not going to like it.

“Look, maybe I’m wrong and I’m mistaking him for someone else but I’m pretty positive I’m right and, ah” Another pause, you’re about to faint. “There’s no way to break it down to you in a way that won’t hurt but” she sighs “he’s lying to you.”

Ice fills your veins. You can feel dread crawling up your spine.

Is he someone else’s boyfriend? Are you the other woman or is he cheating on you? Is he a professional scammer?

“What the hell are you talking about Gracie?” Jade almost shouts, and you’re one heartbeat away from fainting.

Grace looks at you with all the pity in the world and you want nothing more than to erase that expression from her face.

“He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

The world around you stops spinning for a second as the ring in your ears get louder. You just wish the ground could open up and swallow you whole.

All of a sudden you start laughing hysterically like she’s told the funniest joke you’ve ever heard, you laugh so ugly that a few heads turn in your direction and give you funny looks, so loud that your friends are startled and even more worried.

Jaime, your sweet baby boy who adopted a three legged blind cat no one else at the shelter wanted to save him from being euthanized.

Jaime who volunteers at the VA with his pal Sam to help war vets reintegrate in society after they get back home, because he knows what it’s like to have your life turned around, to find yourself with no commands to obey all of a sudden and more trauma than you know what to do with. He knows what it is like to know no peace, to sleep a couple hours a week until you’re hallucinating so bad you’re begging the universe to just end your suffering.

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve.

Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly.

Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

He goes grocery shopping for the elderly couple next door whose kids never visit, because they are too weak, too sick, too tired to leave the house.

“I’m sorry sweetie, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have know.”

Grace hands you a phone, open on his Wikipedia page.

Jaime’s sky-blue eyes stare back at you.

You really let him play a number on you, didn’t you?

You feel a hot surge of blinding anger and you want to tear the world apart, you want to take Jaime- no, not Jaime, James and bitch slap him in the face so damn hard you convey the humiliation you’re feeling right now, knowing that the man you love and thought you knew lied to your face for five fucking months.

Did he ever consider coming clean, revealing his true identity?

Was he ever planning on telling you? Or would he move in with you, wake up and go to bed with you every day feeding you lies upon lies?

Would you end up married to a man that doesn’t exist and have kids with a ghost?

Grow old with a guy who said he was 33 but is actually 99?

Would he never get undressed in front of you? How was he planning on hiding is metal arm? Surely one day you’d be intimate and you would see it? The whole “I want to wait cause I’m old fashioned like that” would eventually need to stop.

Or maybe it wasn’t a serious relationship at all for him, not in the way it was for you. Not in the way you wanted to spend the rest of your days loving him and making him the happiest man alive. Not in the way you were ready to commit to him, body and soul, for all eternity.

Now the endearing terms he used to call you, his babydoll, his little doll, they taste bitter on your tongue.

A doll, literally. A little toy to play with and toss aside once he got bored of his little game.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out like this?

It reminds you of that time in your junior year of college, you were dating this guy back then, and you liked him, he was fun, the sex was good, he supported you in your endless hours of cheer practice.

One day he told you he was sick and couldn’t make it to your afternoon study date. That same night you ran into him at a frat party with his friends. Wasn’t so sick after all.

You broke up on the spot, shed a few tears while your teammates held you and moved on with your life with your head held high, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life no matter how many curveballs the universe throws your way.

You vividly recall what hurt the most: the feeling of being lied to and toyed with. The hot humiliation that burns your cheeks and makes your eyes water when you realized you have yet again misplaced your trust. The inevitable question that plague you for days on end: what else did he lie about? How could I be so damn stupid?

His name was Tommy, and sometimes in the following years your first instinct when a man told you anything was to obsess over whether they were being honest or not. Until Jaime, that is, you trusted Jaime with your life, you would never question him, and look where that got you.

You’re aware you’re overthinking and maybe overreacting at this point, and that wailing in your own misery while your girlfriends are out having fun in a club is doing you no good, nor is it changing your current predicament. But you never listen to the voice of reason, and you won’t start today.

The room feels too hot and too cold at the same time.

You’re sweating but your body is shaking. You’re breathing but the air you inhale won’t reach your lungs. You’re blinking your eyes frantically but you only see darkness. You hear your own heart beat out of your chest.

It seems like the room you’re in is closing down on you and there’s no space left, you’re being crushed by those walls around you, you’re drowning, you’re suffocating.

Is this what heartbreak feels like, or is it just a heart attack?

Turns out it’s a panic attack, you know because you typed your symptoms on Google.

You are painfully aware you’re spiralling out of control.

Get a grip.

All you can think about is how you want him to suffer, you want him to feel the same humiliation you’re feeling right now. You want him to feel his chest compress, his throat tighten, you want him to know what it’s like when your heart is breaking in a thousand pieces and you can’t even breathe.

You want his world to come tumbling down on him and crush him under the weight of his mistakes.

You don’t care why he did it. You don’t give a single fuck about his reasons.

Because the truth is, no matter who he was in his past life, no matter how many he killed or tortured, you would have loved him all the same. You would have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders if it meant he could sleep soundly at night.

But he didn’t give you a chance to.

And because you never fucking think before you act, you put your best dress on a join the girls at the club they’re at, and you hope the tequila is going to drown your sorrow and dull the pain burning you from within.

Tonight you don’t want to feel anymore.

Four months ago.

Brooklyn, New York.

Every morning, Bucky wakes up at 5.30 am and joins Steve Rogers on his jog around the neighborhood, and every morning without failure Bucky is grumpy about it. He hates the early mornings, especially in the winter, but he can’t find it in himself to refuse Steve anything.

Steve is smart and too observing for his own good and he knows that something has changed. He knows it in the way Bucky’s steps are louder and bouncier, his back is straighter, his smile is easier, his eyes shine brighter.

He knows it because underneath the sandalwood scent of Buck’s deodorant and the musky smell of his sweat, he can sometimes detect the less pungent fragrance of coconut and peaches.

“So, who is she?”

The question catches him off guard. Bucky stops dead in his track and looks at his friend like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

At that he has the decency to blush.

“She’s- she’s perfect. I met her on the ride home from the shelter. ‘member when we were kids, we used to dream about the future? I swore I’d get myself a pretty wife and love her for the rest of my days and have a bunch of kids?”

“Yeah, I used to tell you you’d have to stop dragging me in those god awful double dates, or else you wouldn’t get any of those pretty girls to stick around.”

The two share a bittersweet smile as they reminisce how their life could have been.

“She’s pretty, you know, she’s sweet, she’s a bit of an asshole but the good kind, she’s so damn smart, you know all those science things I used to like before the war? She knows them all. She’s an engineer. I know my Ma would have approved of her, and Becca would have died to have her as a sister.”

“So why’s that long face?”

Bucky snorts.

Of course, how could Captain America understand? People don’t avoid him like he’s got some infectious disease, they don’t give him dirty looks, girls don’t cross the street when they see him, mothers with kids on their hips don’t cover their children as if he was the Boogeyman. “She didn’t recognize me, and well I- I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t want me, and I like her too much to mess this up.”

“Buck.” Steve gives him his best stern look. “You have to tell her, she has a right to know who she’s seeing. If she’s the one she’s going to love you all the same, but don’t lie to her. These secrets can only backfire in the long run. It’s going to ruin your relationship.”

Bucky nods absentmindedly and continues running without uttering another word.

No one could ever love his true self, he thinks bitterly. No one could help him carry the weight of his past on his shoulders.

If only he had known back then how right Stevie would be, he would have told you everything four months ago.

[marvelslut16]

Prom night

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Synopsis: The day for Steve to take (Y/N) Henderson to prom has finally arrived. While they have grown closer over these past few months, can he use this night to woo her and finally ask her out? Or will it be ruined by Tommy H. and Carol?

Word count: 2085

Warnings: Swearing, slight violence, Tommy H. and Carol being complete assholes. 

A/N: This is a sequel to milkshakes and fries, but can be read as a stand alone story. I was ecstatic when someone requested I do it (even though I was gonna write it anyway). So two long months filled with homework and injuries later, I’m finally posting prom night. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. For some reason I absolutely adored this one, and it’s my new favorite thing I’ve written. 

Months have passed since Steve Harrington asked you to the prom, and boy did those months fly by. Steve hasn’t backed out of your ‘date,’ like you assumed he would, he has actually been spending more time with you. He comes over after school some days to spend time with Dustin and to get homework help from you. The biggest change that has happened are those pesky little butterflies you get when he accidentally bumps your hand, or when he smiles at you.

“(Y/N), Harrington is here,” Dustin pops his head through your doorway, whatever smart ass remark he is going to say dies in his throat as he catches a glimpse of you dressed up. 

Your hair is styled in an updo and you have a light layer of makeup on. Of course you used some of Dustin’s Farrah Fawcett spray to keep your hair in place. You decided to skip a necklace since the neckline of your dress went up your neck. You also opted out of chunky and large earrings for an elegant small pair of diamond earrings your grandmother had given your mother. Lastly was your red dress, the top was sparkly and slightly off the shoulder. There was an open portion in the back, and the bottom was plain and flowy. 

“Whoa,” Dustin’s eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head. 

“Is it that bad?” you spin around to face your little brother. “Maybe you should just tell Steve that I don’t feel good enough to go.”

“Are you shitting me? You look amazing, and your definitely fucking going,” Dustin gives you a stern look. “Steve is nervously pacing the living room, you better get out there.” He pushes you out of your room and towards the living room, where your date is waiting.

Date, that’s so strange to think about. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington had asked you, a nerdy nobody to go to prom with him. Granted he’d lost his coolness when he got dumped by Nancy Wheeler. But the new, genuine Steve, he’s so much better. The Steve that cares about Dusty’s well-being, who wears his heart on his sleeve, and who embarrasses himself every time he asks you for help on his homework. If you didn’t know any better, you might say you were falling in love with the new Steve. But that’s impossible, right?

You’re breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Steve. He’s in a black tux that fits perfectly, and he has a red bow tie that matches your dress to a t. You’ll have to thank Dustin for that later, he was in charge of helping Steve get the right color tie. 

“You look beautiful,” Steve breathes when his eyes land on you. A light pink blush colors his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you all dressed up.

“So do you,” your ears burn hot, feeling the heat raise up to your cheeks. Dustin is snickering at your mess up behind you as your mom grins from ear to ear. “Handsome! I mean, you look handsome Steve.” The two of you hold eye contact, with little smiles gracing your faces for what seems like an eternity. 

“Stop looking at my sister like that,” Dustin’s face scrunches in disgust. “It’s gross.”

“Shut up dweeb!” you turn and glare at Dustin.

“That’s enough,” your mom walks between you and Dustin. “It’s time for pictures!”

Steve nervously pulls a simple white rose corsage out from behind his back and places it delicately on your wrist. You hear the snap of the camera go off repeatedly as your mom takes multiple action shots. You giggle nervously as you attempt to pin a matching boutonniere on his jacket without stabbing him. Steve’s intense gaze isn’t helping either. 

After the flowers are situated, your mom poses you, with Steve behind you and arms wrapped around your waist, and your hands lay delicately over his. He keeps trying to resituate, accidentally tickling your sides causing you to giggle, making him laugh as well. You grin over your shoulder at him, and the way the lights reflect off of his hazel eyes is mesmerizing, it makes the green come off a shade brighter. The two of you reluctantly step away from the others embrace as you go to leave. 

“You hurt her you’re fucking dead Harrington,” Dustin promises, getting up in Steve’s face. The familiar flash of the camera goes off as your mom giggles. You grab Steve’s hand and pull him out the door. “Just remember I know where your bat is!” Your mom laughs at Dustin’s words, taking them as empty threats. But Steve takes a big gulp of air knowing he means every word he says.

“Bye mom, bye Dusty,” you call to them as you pull the front door shut behind you. 

Steve stutters through some jokes as he drives you to dinner, your jaw drops slightly as you pull into Enzos’ parking lot. Steve grins at you as you stare at the building in front of you, there's a little sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Steve, this is too much,” you protest when he walks around the car and opens your door for you. He offers a hand, and gently helps you out, briefly pulling you into his chest. 

“I want to spoil my date,” he grins at you, his stupid goofy grin. Not that ingenuine smirk he always had plastered on his face when he was King Steve. You don’t know how to respond, so you just grin at him and lace your fingers through his. 

Steve leads you into the fancy restaurant, where there’s a quartet playing and lights strung up. You grin at him and squeeze his hand. 

“Reservation for Harrington,” Steve smiles at you, barely even glancing at the pretty hostess. The familiar heat of a blush makes its way to your cheeks, and you smile down at the ground. 

While you and Steve are eating your entrees he tells you his good news, “I got the job at Scoops!”

“That’s fantastic!” you grin widely at him. You had helped Steve prepare for his interview. When he gets nervous he tends to clam up and make a fool of himself, and he really wanted this job. It was his way of proving to himself, his parents, and even you, that he was more than just a trust fund baby who lacked the basic skills needed in life. “I’m so proud of you! I have my interview at JCPenney’s next week, so we might work a few stores away from each other.”

“We can have lunch breaks together, and I can give you free ice cream as often as you want!” Steve’s so excited he looks like he could start bouncing in his seat at any moment. You grin at him, and reach across the tabletop to lace your fingers with his. For two friends, the two of you touch each other too often, always savering the warmth that went straight to your souls. 

“I’d like that.”

--

“I’ll get us some punch,” Steve’s hand ghosts over the small of your back as he whispers in your ear. The two of you had been at prom for almost an hour, awkwardly standing on the sidelines as happy couples danced. 

“Well if it isn’t Henderson, and looking extra grody I see,” a familiar and annoying voice says behind you. Steve has been gone for less than a minute and his ex-friends were already on you like vultures. 

“And dateless no less,” Tommy H. joins in on Carol’s teasing. “I didn’t know that was allowed.”

“I have a date,” you say quietly. 

“Then where is he?” Carol steps closer, laughing mere inches from your face. 

“Getting us punch,” you say stronger this time, fists clenching at your sides. “He’ll be back any minute now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you try to walk past them towards the table Steve walked off to. But Tommy H. stepped in your way, and you almost walked into his scrawny annoying chest. 

“You aren’t going anywhere sweetheart, not when you lie to us,” Tommy H’s fingers wrap tightly around your wrist. 

“Where’s your boyfriend Billy? I’m surprised you two aren’t attached at the hip,” you sneer at the bully. His face is so close his large nose is poking yours, and you can smell the cheap beer on his breath. “Now, could you please extract your ugly freckled face from mine, it would be greatly appreciated,” you deadpan, irritation growing as his grip on your wrist without the corsage tightens. 

“You better watch yourself,” Tommy H. threatens, his nails digging into your skin as hand tightens this time. 

“Let go of her,” Steve growls from behind Tommy H, punch long forgotten and discarded on some table. You sigh in relief at his arrival, not knowing how much longer you could have held them off. As soon as Steve sees that Tommy H’s grip loosened he whips him around, staring him down. 

“Don’t do anything stupid Harrington,” Tommy H. sneers. “Wouldn’t want to damage that pretty face of yours before you can convince your date to put out.” 

“Don’t talk about (Y/N) like that,” Steve’s hands grip threatening around the lapels of Tommy H’s jacket. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Tommy H. laughs. “You never win a fight.”

“Steve,” he glances at you, the pleading look in your eyes makes him loosen his grip on Tommy H. He growls as he roughly pushes the shorter teen back, causing him to trip over a chair and fall onto his back. 

“Tommy!” Carol’s fake voice goes up one annoying octave louder before rushing to her boyfriend's side. 

“You stay away from (Y/N) Henderson,” Steve threatens. “And you best watch what you say about her and Dustin.”

Steve grabs your hand and twirls you onto the dance floor, and away from your bullies. “When did you get so smooth Harrington?” you giggle as he spins you into his arms. 

“When I wanted to start impressing you Henderson,” he admits softly, pulling you in closer to him. 

You don’t know how to respond, so you sway to the music with Steve. Being in his arms feels so right, but so wrong at the same time. He is Dustin’s best friend, and you don’t want it to be awkward for them if anything ever happened between you. The familiar beginning notes of a Foreigner song are being played by the band on the stage in the front of the gym. Steve’s voice joins, out of tune, the baritone voice from the lead singer.

“When you love someone, when you love someone, it feels so right, so warm and true, I need to know if you feel it too. Maybe I'm wrong, won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong?

This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I want to be sure,” you pull away from Steve’s shoulder and stare into his eyes. There’s nothing but sincerity in those hazel eyes as he sings to you. 

“When you love someone, yeah, really love someone. Now, I know it's right, from the moment I wake up till deep in the night, there's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be than holding you tenderly,” you sing back, causing Steve to smile shyly at you.

“I love you (Y/N),” he admits nervously, but never breaks his eye contact. 

“I love you too, Steve,” the words slip out of your mouth. Tears prick your eyes as you realize just how much you mean those words, you would be lost without Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. 

Steve grins at you, cupping your face and pulling it to meet his half way. The moment your lips touch your breath leaves your body, a fire lights through your body and rests deep in your soul. For the first time in over two years, you feel safe and content. Happy. Who would have thought King Steve would have been the one to make you so indescribably happy? You’ll have to thank Dustin for this later. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere Steve Harrington,” you breathe out as your lips disconnect. 

“Well it’s a good thing I never want to be without you then,” Steve’s thumb caresses your cheek as he smiles the widest you’ve ever seen. You swear if his smile gets any bigger it’ll split his face in half. Then again, your sure your faces mirrors his.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny​

[heli0s-writes]

Happy Birthday, Steve Rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Fireworks and ice-cream cake for your man.  A/N: 1 of ?? Snapshots between you, Steve, and Bucky. In the same canon as Mystery of Love-- check it out first :) 

It’s a sweltering hot evening in July when you carefully pat on the last of the fire-engine red lipstick in the vanity. Your hair is curled neatly in large, fluffy rings, brushing against your shoulders and over your back, and you carefully fill in your plucked eyebrows with dark powder until it becomes perfectly arched.

Then, you shimmy on the costume, making sure to smooth out the wrinkles and pull up the pantyhose.

“Baby, holy shit. Baby…”

Hot breath puffs at your neck as you try to fix the blue collar of the suit. You shoo your assailant away as his hands begin to unbutton the very button you had just fastened. He’s quicker and more dexterous, of course, and pops it open even as your hands fiercely guard it.

“Lemme take it off ya, please… He’s had all day. Pay attention to me, kitten.”

“It’s his birthday, you nympho!” You shriek with laughter as Bucky’s hands forgo the buttons completely and dives into the front of your blouse, grabbing onto your breasts. Twisting out of his grasp, you fix your chest and slip on the heels, trying your hardest to ignore just how handsome he looks with his hair out of his face.

“Get your uniform on and meet me on the roof in ten minutes, or so help me, Buck, no sex for a week.”

Your lover pales considerably and salutes you with as much acquiescence as he can genuinely muster before nearly flying into the closet. You laugh as you head into the kitchen, scooping the frozen ice-cream cake and stashed bag of goodies into your arms and dashing into the nearest elevator.

“You look lovely, ma’am.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes

“Thank you, Fri.” You respond, “Is Steve back yet?”

“Captain Rogers’ ETA is four minutes, ma’am. Should I send him to the roof upon his arrival?”

“Yes, please.”

When you arrive, you’re greeted with cheers and whoops from the rest of the team. Tony has set up air conditioning units galore and even a small lemonade stand where one of his extra suits robotically passes out glasses to those who request them. They’ve opened up blankets and sit comfortably. Tony, however, refused and instead, brought his own personalized lawn chair, even as Pepper leans back on a blanket next to his feet.  

You curtsy with pride, radiant like a sparkler on the Fourth o’ July… and speaking of…

Today, for Steve Rogers’ very patriotic and serendipitous birthday, you have dressed up as his very own USO Girl, reminiscent of all those tours he did with the United States Army. Bucky has joined you, requesting (and being granted) his old uniform from the museum. From next to Sam, said man saunters over, taking the cake and the bag from your hand and dipping you low before planting a kiss to your sternum—the only place you’ve allowed him to in fear of smearing any of your make up. But even there, you’ve dusted yourself with a layer of loose powder—glittery and perfumed.

“Get a room!” Tony shouts before rolling his eyes and taking a swig of his alcoholic lemonade.

It’s been like this all day, really. Usually affections are confined to the bedrooms, but this morning, you and Bucky made breakfast for Steve while he was away on his jog and took turns kissing him in the dining room. Then, the three of you splashed around in the pool for a while, feeling each other up beneath the blue-green water, refractions of your hands and thighs glimmering under the sun. After that, you took him to an early dinner while Bucky got a haircut and picked up the cake you’d placed in weeks in advance.

It was a delicately planned thing, because Steve Rogers is scrutinizing as hell and could unravel any half-assed plan unless you could be more cunning than him. And this time, oh this time, you were. After an entire day of teasing, with his brain a cluttered mess of arousal, you sent Steve away to pick up sparklers right as the sun was about to set.

The elevator to the rooftop dings open and Steve steps forward, three boxes tucked under his armpit, brows furrowed.

“Happy Birthday!” You all shout.

You bound up to him and jump right into his arms. The boxes clatter to the ground and sparklers scatter all over his feet.

“Oh!”

He flushes red when he sees the crimson pout of your lips leaning in.

“Happy birthday, Captain.” You whisper into his ear, hands clasped behind his neck, knees bent and ankles crossed, not giving a care in the world if everyone could see your panties. From Bucky’s sudden appearance against your back, it seems like they might have.

Setting you back down, Steve takes a look at your outfit—low-cut blue blouse with stars on the lapels, alternating white and red pleats on a skirt so short it makes him burn even more, and you’ve even got on the silk white gloves and heels to match. You grin at him, pearly teeth dazzling like diamonds against the red velvet of your lips.

Bucky smiles, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist, “Happy Birthday, old man.”

Steve gasps audibly when he notices, hand coming up to rest against Bucky’s neck, fingers dipping into the dark green collar of his dress shirt and gray of his jacket. He’s committed himself to the look—even cutting off his hair to mirror the way he’d been back during the war. Steve’s hand moves absently to Bucky’s jaw, rubbing against the smooth plane of skin. His heart flutters at the alleyway memory- the first time Bucky told him of his enlistment.

“Wow. Buck.”

“Get a room!” Tony yells again.

Sam joins in too, hollering at the three of you. Soon enough, Natasha does too, so finally, you take a step back and wander towards the rest of the team, grabbing two lemonades for the boys before placing the candles in the cake.  

You click your heels over to Steve, swinging your hips back and forth to the tune of an imaginary jazz band and start singing Happy Birthday cheerily. Pepper joins in, grabbing Tony’s hand as he spins her around. At the end, everyone claps and Steve leans forward, blowing out the candles with a wide smile on his face. His eyes are fixed onto yours until his breath snuffs out the last flame.

Bucky serves everyone a slice, and against the breeze of the hot wind, frozen layers of vanilla and chocolate are a welcome reprieve.

Steve settles in the middle, kissing your shoulder softly before doing the same to Buck’s jaw, licking the salt of his sweat from his chin. Bucky growls playfully before taking another bite, purposefully smearing the cream over his pink lips—an overtly lewd invitation.

 The sun now sits low in the sky, almost gone from the horizon completely. The darkness shields the others from seeing what’s growing inside Steve all day—and what now swells against the fly of his jeans. How could he not be frustrated? Bucky had woken him up with bites and nips before disappearing on a run. Steve thought he could catch up, but Bucky was nowhere to be found on his usual trail. Instead, he had looped back around to the compound and helped you make breakfast.

The sweet gesture turned even sweeter with the two of you driving him crazy in the dining room, sucking maple syrup from his fingers, pressing up against him while doing the dishes, kissing him. Then, in the pool--- good God, Steve thinks, how much can a man take?

You’d worn the smallest bikini—one he’d never seen before, and melted into the water on Bucky’s back. The two of you, moving against the blue, mesmerizing and wet, nearly made him come right there—right in the damn pool. Then you’d refused to shower with him—rattling off an excuse.

Dinner was no better. You entered in a lavender summer dress, tucked a wildflower behind your ear, and drove stick to a quiet rustic restaurant full of spicy aromas and candlelight. The way your eyes blazed behind the flickering centerpiece, how your hair slipped over your shoulder, how your lips bent and moved as you chewed. You knew full well what you were doing to him.

“Oh, shoot!” You had cried, right as you pulled the car into its usual parking spot, “I forgot the sparklers. Would you mind getting them? I want to help Tony set up… you know how he gets with these things.”

How could he say no? Especially with your big, doe-eyed stare, and that wildflower, a gathering of yellow petals accentuating your beauty so perfectly? You leaned over across the middle console of the car and pressed a brief kiss to his lips, deeply inhaling the scent of him. “Hurry back, the fireworks will start soon.”

 Steve nuzzles your cheek as the first flare shoots into the sky with a shrill cry before bursting into an exploding chrysanthemum of red and white. The taste of vanilla and cake crumbles linger on his tongue as it slowly traces the shape of your ear. You had tricked him, and now it was his turn to control the day. His day.

“Captain!” You scold playfully, “My goodness!”

Your man is mostly sweet and rarely wild, so it takes you completely by surprise when he growls into your ear, “I am your captain, aren’t I?”

You turn quickly to face him, missing the next firework that streaks into the darkness. The boom of it drowns out his words for everyone save you and Bucky.

“Will you call me that tonight? All night?”

Bucky’s low chuckle is timed perfectly with the next rocket’s screech. “In a mood, aren’tcha, Stevie?”

“I’m your Captain too, Sergeant.”

The deafening crack of an exploding cluster blazes into the night overhead, pinwheels of blue sizzling and scattering, lighting up the shadows of Steve’s face. You watch his features darken with the night as the lights die. Bucky hums submissively to his left, leaning his chin against Steve’s sharp shoulder.

The next light is bright purple, washing all of you in violet, turning the blue of Steve’s gaze into an opulent amethyst. He licks his lips before it flickers away and your eyes need to adjust to see the shape of his mouth.

“I’m finished with cake and fireworks.” He states plainly, setting the plate of melted dessert down along with his fork. “And so are you two.”

Steve stands, brushes off his pants, and leaves without another word.

Another flare roars. Red this time, as you and Bucky stare at each other, the air hanging between you so heavy you could cut it with the cake-knife now lying uselessly by Pepper’s foot.

Bucky scrambles up, fixing the hat on top of his head when it teeters too far to one side and yanks you up with him. Your heel nearly breaks as you run behind, pulled along by your wrist. The explosions in the sky are nothing compared to how your chest feels right now— rumbling furiously at the mere thought of Steve’s hands twisting the night’s reigns over his fists. You feel a cool bead of sweat trickle down your chest, right on top of his Words.

“Where are you going!?” Natasha calls when Bucky nearly rips the elevator door open.

“We’re getting a room, like Tony suggested!” You shoot back, hopping in and bouncing on your toes.

“This was your idea!” Sam protests, but the door has already shut and both of you are slinking down out of view. Before the two of you are completely gone, they hear Bucky’s muffled cry- triumphant and celebratory.

“God Bless America!”

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x15: Palm Springs (AKA A Fling in Palm Springs)

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: The gang heads to Palm Springs for President’s day weekend.

Warnings: swearing probably, lots of fluffy feelings, mentions of sex. 

Words: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!!)

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys this week’s episode! We are going to be skipping the next one but Laverne the gum-chomping waitress WILL make an appearance at some point in the series, so don’t worry. Next week the reader moves out with Brenda and deals with Class President election!

-

“You’re really gonna stay and work all weekend?” You launch yourself backwards onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble against your legs, “Kelly says anybody who’s anybody goes to Palm Springs.”

“You’re talking to Kelly again?” Your brother cocks an eyebrow at you as he cuts himself a brownie, stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

“Well, no… Kelly told Brenda who told me— but what does it matter?” You steal the brownie pan from his other hand, and place it out of his reach, “Just because it’s from a secondary source doesn’t mean it’s not true. It’s a ritual. Like the geese flying south or something.” 

“How do you expect to get there? It’s not like you have a car, or a bike, or can afford a plane ticket.” You stay silent for a moment, then give him a pleading, rosy smile. “Oh, no. No! You’re not taking Duke to Palm Springs.” Duke was Eric’s beloved cherry red ‘48 Ferrari. It was given to him on his eighteenth birthday, previously loved and adored by your father, and his father before that and blah blah blah. 

“Please? I always take good care of it!” You beg, “I’ll even fill up the tank when I get back! What is it, a dollar per gallon?”

“Sorry. No way. You’ll have to ask Brenda,” he shrugs stubbornly, reaching around you and swiping the pan while you're preoccupied with the argument. 

“I can’t! She’s riding with Kelly!”

“Then ask Brandon— look, this isn’t my problem, Y/N/N. Either find another ride or don’t go.”

-

“It has the original interior, the original grille work. It’s gorgeous,” Brandon enthuses, slipping his hand under your shirt and to your sides as you both lie in the backseat of Mondale, mid make-out session. Well, you were making out. Until he decided to stop it to talk about that car he wanted. Like guys often do.  “and it’s only twenty-five thousand dollars.” 

“Twenty-five thousand? Brandon! No wonder your dad won’t buy you that thing. Dads are cheapskates, It’s just a fact of life.” 

“Dylan‘s dad bought him a Porsche.”

“Babe, Dylan’s dad is facing a grand jury indictment,” you stifle a giggle as you pop a button off of his shirt. 

“But my dad knows how hard I work,” Brandon grumbles, “And to top it all off, last night Nat told me that I can’t go to Palm Springs this weekend with you, and all of my friends because his sister is sick and now I have to work all weekend. But hey, you don’t hear me complaining, do ya?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” 

-

“Hey there!” You’re greeted  almost immediately by Brandon upon entering the Peach Pit, who’s over at the far end of the counter with a little blond boy. “What a nice surprise. I thought you’d be in packing mode for your trip… but knowing you, you packed early, didn’t you?”

“Always do,” you nod, taking the seat in front of him. You hand Brandon a modest wad of cash and kiss his cheek, making him smile. He mumbles a thanks as he stuffs it into his pocket and hands you a menu. 

“Hey… do you ever get the feeling that the entire world is flying in first class, and you’re stuck with a folding chair in the baggage compartment?” He takes your hand in his, leaning over the counter. 

“Never,” you deadpan. He studies your face, causing you to giggle into his shoulder. 

“Liar!” He laughs genuinely, his eyes crinkling at the edges,“you total liar!”  He straightens himself out, “This is Curtis.” He gestures to the adorable little boy beside you, “the hangout king of Beverly Hills.”

“It’s a free country, I can hang out if I want!” The little boy whines. 

“Hey, hey, relax, sport. No one said you couldn’t… but does your mom know how much time you spend here?”

“She’s the one that brung me! I told her the food’s not that good," Curtis criticizes, mowing down a plate of greasy french fries. 

“See what I have to put up with to make a buck?” Brandon teases, grabbing a plate of food from the kitchen and dashing off to deliver it to a table. Once he’s gone, Curtis turns his stool to you. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Oh! Well, uh… no. But he’s… not not my boyfriend,” you waffle. Curtis narrows his eyes, confused. “Look, it’s complicated, kid."

“You give him that friendship bracelet he’s wearing?” 

“Yeah, actually… he told you about that?” 

The kid dodges your question, chewing on the straw of his drink, “Why aren’t you wearing one?”

“It's a long story, Curtis. Certainly one you don't have time for, okay?" 

"I got plenty of time." 

-

You couldn’t ride with your brother, you couldn’t ride with Brandon, there’s no way in hell you’re riding with Steve… that left one option. Brenda, Kelly, and Donna. 

“Donna,” Kelly giggles, “we’re not going to Europe. You don’t need three bags!”

“Kelly, I have to dress according to the guys we meet. I mean— high school guys, college guys, grad school guys, dropout guys— you cannot dress the same for all guys. No,” Donna shakes her head disapprovingly, like she just dropped a fashion truth-bomb on all three of you. To be honest, though, she kind of did. 

“I guess she has a point,” you laugh, propping yourself up against a locker, “Bring everything.” 

Then Steve saunters over, in his usual confusingly patterned button-down, an agitated look spread across his face. He nods down to the innumerable bags on the floor. 

“What, are we going to France?” He scoffs, only taking a moment before continuing, “Will you guys come on? There’s gonna be a lot of traffic on the roads." Gee, wonder what’s making him so delightful this afternoon.

“Hey gang!” Oh no. David Silver? What was he doing here? “Are we going to have a blast or what? Huh?” We? 

The rest of the group is just as lost as you are, exchanging silent looks of terror to the person next to them. Steve takes note of this and clears his throat.

“There’s been a uh, slight change in plans.”

-

“It’s weird, I mean I want to be with Dylan and everything, but part of me just wants to get it over with. Like I’m the last person that hasn’t done it yet." Brenda confides uneasily as you all stand against Kelly’s convertible, waiting as the tank fills up.

“Brenda… you are,” Kelly replies. 

“No you’re not!" You assure her,  "Look, Bren, you’re really gonna like it… I think." Ha. Like you know any more than she does. Donna nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, totally… probably. Maybe? I—“ 

Kelly cuts Donna off, “Listen, who would you rather be with? Dylan McKay or David Silver?” 

“Bren, Dylan’s a wonderful guy. You’re gonna have a great time! And you brought protection, so there’s nothing to be worried about!” You place a soothing hand on her arm. 

“Right!” Brenda smiles, “I mean, I care about him, he cares about me, it’s gonna be great, right?”

-

“My grandparents collect anything they can get their hands on,” David guides the four of you, sans Brenda plus Steve, as you wander his grandparents' house. It’s definitely nice, definitely big… kinda smells like patchouli and sunscreen in the best way. “When I was younger I used to travel with them but my dad’s mad at them about something so I don’t see ‘em much anymore.” 

“What’s he mad about?” Donna asks. 

“Well, my grandparents like my mom and think it’s, y’know, bad he wants to divorce her... Come on,” he waves you all over to him as he escapes through the back door, “I saved the best for last.” You reluctantly follow behind him, your shoes clacking down the concrete steps and into the depths of his backyard. It was gorgeous— a huge pool, palm trees, brick-lined lounging areas. You could get used to this. 

“Dude, we are definitely styling out here in this little desert oasis,” Steve grins, “David, I always knew you had potential.” No you didn’t. 

“Thanks, Steve,” David begins to venture further back, “but you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Look, if anyone gets in the mood, you climb up this little terrace here to this hidden nook and nobody will bother you.” You step up another flight of brick-lined concrete stairs and through a small patch of greenery, to be met with a cute little private hot tub… with people in it. 

“David?” The old woman gasps, clutching her small champagne flute.

“Grandma?” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” The senior man, presumably (and hopefully) his grandfather groans.

-

“It was an amaaaazing trip!” David’s grandmother raves, pouring pretzels into a glass bowl as the group is gathered around the kitchen island. 

“It was indescribable,” his grandfather agrees excitedly, “we would dance every night under the stars.” He pulls Kelly from her stool, picking her up and spinning her around as if they were about to tango. 

“Ooh! Can somebody pull the ice cream?” His grandma asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Donna smiles.

“Triple. Chocolate. Chip. I mean, If we’re gonna do it, we should do it right.” Steve chuckles politely at the woman, though he looks like he wants to put a gun to his head. 

“Well, I’ve never seen so many old fogies on one boat in my whole life. I mean, a floating rest home is what it was!” His grandpa laughs heartily, getting ice cream bowls from the cupboard, 

“Oh, Henry, that’s not so. But hey, one day we woke up on the boat and we both said ‘Let’s go home!’” Funny. That’s exactly what you were thinking. “I mean, we missed our little house in the desert.” 

“We sure did,” Henry smiles happily, grabbing his wife’s jaw gently and planting a big smooch on her. “And lucky for us, we would have missed you if we didn’t cut our trip short!” 

“Uh, well you guys must be really tired. Huh?” David chuckles awkwardly. 

“Oh, we’re exhausted!” The woman nods, “but hey, who cares? I am so excited to see you! And to finally meet some of your friends! Hey! Why don’t we all stay up late, chow down on the snacks, and get to know each other?” Oh, joy. 

-

“This way ladies,” David’s grandma guides the three of you upstairs, her hand on your shoulder. “You’re gonna go up these stairs, down the hall, first door on your right, and you are gonna love it.” You hop up the steps with Kelly and Donna, bags in hand. 

“Did you guys hear her?” Kelly starts, opening the door to the room and throwing her bags on an empty bed. Hey, she acknowledged you. That’s a start. “She said she was gonna invite all the cute guys from the neighborhood over to the pool tomorrow!”

“Steve is not gonna like that,” Donna 

“Oh, who cares?” Kelly snickers, “I wonder how Brenda’s doing.” 

“‘Oh! Dylan, what beautiful eyes you have!’” You joke, throwing your hand to your forehead and bowing backwards. 

“‘Oh, Brenda, you are so exquisite!’” Donna joins in, giggling. 

“Barf.”

-

You splash your feet in the Silver's pool, crowds of people surrounding it. Overwhelmed by the vast amount of new people, you're off by yourself, kicking the water around, staring at your feet. 

"You know, there's room on this raft for two." You look up to Steve, lying back on a giant inflatable alligator. Ugh, if only it was a real one. 

"Why don't you ask your new girlfriends?" You point behind you to the two girls, who you could only think to describe as biker babes, lounging together. Porcelain white skin, spiked black bikinis, way more makeup than you need for a pool party. "They look pretty interested."

"Can you imagine what it would be like if you were interested? You know, me instead of Brandon?" You feign a gag, shaking your head. 

"I don't really want to, Steve," you cringe dramatically as he chuckles, "but thanks for getting that thought haunting my dreams forever. Really appreciate it."

"Remember—" He wags his pointer finger at your face, eyes narrowing lightheartedly, "I saw you first." He puts his foot flat against the concrete wall of the pool, kicking off, but as soon as he's far enough— he guffaws. Of course he laughs at his own jokes. 

-

"Dylan, hi!" You practically leap over to him in the foyer, your damp feet leaving faint footprints on the cold floor.  "So?" 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed ever so slightly, "So?" 

"How'd it go?" You raise your eyebrows excitedly. 

"How'd what go?" 

"With Brenda!" He groans at that. 

"Don't ask."

"Well, it's too late, I already did." 

"What's with you girls?" Oh, this should be good. "You see a guy with another girl and you immediately think they're sleeping with her?! What is that?! I mean, every time a female customer goes into the Pit-- do you lose it at Brandon?" 

"Can't say I do. They usually want him. But thankfully it's not the other way around… look, if this is about the other Walsh-- and McKay, it better be, or else I have questions-- just talk to her about it. Have an adult conversation." 

"Easy for you to say, you're dating the king of good family values. The kid's a Hartley House episode." 

-

You open the fridge in the kitchen, helping David’s grandparents scoop out ice cream. You fidget with the scoop in your hands before setting it down. After a devastating loss of Charades, you had to comfort your friends with ice cream. It was the only option, really. 

“How do you guys do it?” They both look up from the bowls to stare at you. “The whole long-term relationship thing,” you clarify. “It’s just so… scary.”

“You’re right,” Henry nods, “It’s very scary. Trusting someone, with your heart, your intimate feelings. I mean, before we got married, Adele broke up with me seven different times. Running for the hills was our solution to every problem. Giving yourself to that person— trusting that they’re going to cherish you, to value you and every intimate part of yourself— that is the hardest thing.”

Adele jumps in, “And you have to accept each other for who you are. For every flaw and every perfection, you have to let the other person be who they are. But when you do find the person you can really be yourself with, who you can have fun with, and fully trust… it is the greatest feeling in the world.” She takes the scoop from in front of you and begins scooping. “Who is he? It’s not David, is it?”

You giggle, “No. No, it’s not David. His name’s Brandon, he’s—“ you can’t stop a grin from slowly breaking out on your face, “He’s great. He’s kind, and considerate, and totally crazy about me... but it’s still scary, y’know? My last relationship didn’t exactly end on great terms. And if I barely even liked the other guy but I was still totally obliterated by it ending… I can’t imagine how I’d feel with Brandon. I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life. I guess you can imagine how much of a major scare that is, huh?”

“Seven break-ups, sweetheart. I can imagine.”

-

"He even set up a meal plan for the kid! I can show you the security cameras if you want to see them," Nat indulges. You never thought you’d say this, but you were thrilled to be back in Beverly Hills. You missed your own bed, the Peach Pit… the cute waiter at the Peach Pit. And you’re thrilled to be eating something that isn’t ice cream. 

"Oh, don't you dare! I cannot handle any more of that guy being good with kids or else he's gonna get me to procreate with him-- and nobody wants a bunch of  little Walshes running around here," you snort, stirring your water mindlessly with the straw. Nat shrugs as he picks up an order.

“I could use the extra help!” As per usual, he booms out in laughter, walking away with the plate of food. 

“What’s he so happy about?” You twist your head to the kitchen and you’re faced with your overtly-paternal and charitable lover. 

 “Oh, it’s nothing. Just you fathering a sweet little homeless boy for the weekend,” you have to halt yourself from fawning over him. He’s probably the only teenage boy that would tolerate a little kid, let alone help them out like he did. 

“He told you about that?”

“You mean how you not only befriended the little boy, but fed him for free, and made sure that his whole family would stay fed until they got back on their feet? Yeah, he might’ve. I mean I laughed, I cried— it was the feel-good story of the year, B.” He smiles at his feet as he ties his apron around his waist. 

“I really missed you this weekend, Y/N/N.” 

“Well, I’m here to stay now,” you smile as he kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m a real lucky guy, you know that?”

“That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.” 

-

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